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She’s going to be a problem.
What kind, I don’t know.
The thought falls out my head as soon as we’re upstairs and Orion sinks into my side, slinking his arm around my waist.
My switch flips.
Omega.
Mine.
I haul him up, slam his back against the door. Orion tilts his face to meet mine, slipping a soft, low moan of contentment when his thighs hook around my hips. His cock is hard. Ready.
One hand clawing into his soft curls to remind him who he belongs to, I claim his mouth, pushing my tongue between the seam of his wet, pink lips.
His pheromones are candy.
His scent, his taste, drive me fucking insane.
My knot aches because every day I’m not buried, coming deep inside him is one day too long.
Orion grabs my shoulders, already working his lithe hips, grinding his hardness against mine, scent smoky with lust.
“Atlas…” he murmurs against my lips. “Please.”
My omega’s plea is my command.
His sharp, needy sweetness, the way his fingernails claw my shoulder blades on the wrong side of desperate, they’re all little digs, reminding me I haven’t fucked him right.
I haven’t taken care of him properly.
Tonight, I’ll give him everything he needs, dick him down until he begs me to stop, limp and weeping, destroyed with fucking pleasure.
Coaxing his lips open with my tongue, I carry him to the bed. I lower him onto the cool sheets without breaking the kiss.
I can’t. I want to devour him, the sweet, needy side of him that makes my instincts rage to bite, protect, claim.
He claws my back, the hit of pain lighter fluid in my veins as he tries to drag me tighter, closer, begging me to take him, his soft tongue and hot breath mingling with mine.
My cock rises, knot swelling. Gonna fuck him for hours.
Then I taste something cool on my tongue. Iced cider like a sad, fallen apple left out in the frost.
I cup the back of his head, gently tugging his soft curls.
His eyes are glassy as sapphires. Orion turns away, looking down, trying to hide, but the tear tracks on his cheeks are a knife to my gut.
I don’t have to ask who hurt him.
It’s always me. Always fucking me.
“What’s going on?” I want to wipe his tears with my thumb, lick them clean, but he squirms, and it’s not the good way. His scent is sour apple as he avoids my gaze.
I want to help him put his pieces back together, soothe him, reassure him, but Orion pulls away.
He doesn’t trust me.
I’ve hurt him too much.
