Chapter Thirteen #3
“Okay,” I say grudgingly.
He slips one hand around the back of my neck. “You forgive me? You still want me as your omega?”
I look down at him, and the sight of his full, parted lips and earnest green eyes just make me want him even more. “Of course I forgive you, mio. You’re not getting away from me that easily.”
“I don’t want to get away.”
“Good, because I’m not letting you go either way,” I rumble.
“No?” Excitement sparks in his eyes. “You’d come after me? Chase me down if I left?”
“You know I would,” I say darkly. “You can’t run from me. You belong to me, Elio. You know that’s true. There’s no escaping me. It’s not an option.”
He gives a needy whine and takes my mouth hungrily. His warm, trembling tongue slips between my lips, and I groan at the sweet taste of my omega. I kiss him back, exposing my hunger, and he makes a sound that I feel all the way to the base of my cock.
Fuck, I need to get inside him. I press him back against the cool stone and the chill draws a gasp from him that I swallow down.
I want to take my time with him, almost afraid my raw need will drive him away, but I can’t slow down.
Not when he returns my kiss like a ravenous wolf, sucking on my tongue and groaning into my mouth.
“I missed this,” I growl, biting his bottom lip. “Missed you.”
He moans, shuddering against me. He pants as I learn him with my mouth. I nibble and suck the ridge of his collarbone, and the soft skin below his ear. I take one nipple at a time between my teeth, tugging until he cries out. I nip a sensitive spot beneath his ribs and he shivers and grips my hair.
I straighten and he’s hard against my hip.
I wrap my hand around him, the water easing the way, and I stroke him slowly.
The sweet scent of his slick mingles with the steam.
He sighs and his forehead drops against my shoulder and his nails score half-moons into my back.
I want to wear his marks. I want them to scar me.
Brand me. I want his need for me written on my skin.
“Marcello,” he whispers. “Fuck me. Need you inside me. Fuck me.”
I growl softly, turning him to face the wall. His palms flat on the wet stone, his back against my chest, warm water streaming down both of us. Slick drips from his hole, and my heart hammers my ribs. I press the wide head of my cock to his entrance, and he gives a little whine of anticipation.
I press into him slowly and the aching sound he makes fills the shower.
His desperate cry bounces off the glass and stone as I penetrate him.
He gasps as I thrust into his body, his hole convulsing around my shaft.
I groan at the tight squeeze of him, and I lock my arm around his waist because his knees give out.
His hole squeezes me so tight and hot, my eyes roll up in my head.
Fuck, he’s perfect. The feel of him wrapped around me is almost too much.
It’s been too long. I’m on the verge of filling him with my seed almost instantly.
Clenching my teeth, I hold my orgasm at bay.
It’s not easy. I want to fill him so full, my cum runs down his quivering legs. But not yet. Not yet.
I move in him with long, slow strokes. He cries out with each thrust, his clawing fingers white against the tile.
The water hammers down around us and his back is slick against my chest. Each thrust is a confession: I would burn down everything I’ve built for you.
You’re mine and only mine. You’re never leaving me.
He turns his head and catches my mouth over his shoulder, the angle awkward and desperate, kissing me while I’m inside him. I suck his tongue and lips, and his hand finds my hip and grips, pulling me deeper. I groan and bite his shoulder, feeling him tighten around me.
The noises he makes as he pushes back on my dick are obscene. Needy, desperate sounds that break from his throat as if they’re being fucked out of him. He can’t stop them. They’re sounds of pure lust and they make me so hard, I almost can’t take it.
His nails dig into my hip as he breaks first. A shuddering cry erupts from him, his body clenching around me as he paints the shower wall with his cream.
His hips jerk forward as he comes, and then back again, impaling himself harder on my shaft.
He cries out and spurts more cum, his body convulsing and his hole quaking.
“Fuck, yeah,” I growl and I follow him over the edge. I press deep, spilling inside him with his name on my tongue. I start to thrust harder, filling him with my load, pushing it as deep as possible. His body jerks with every rough pump of my hips, and he cries out as I take him hard.
“Yes,” he whimpers, taking my cock deep. “So good. So fucking good.”
Once we’ve climaxed, we’re both breathing hard. I kiss the nape of his neck, and he sighs, squeezing his hole on me. I groan and give a weak push, wishing I could fuck him all over again. But I’ll need a minute. That took a lot out of me.
I pinch the base of my dick to stop the knot from forming.
Then I carefully pull out of him and turn him, gathering him against my chest. He slips his arms around my back, his face in my neck.
After a few moments, we part to clean off.
I gently shampoo his hair, pressing soft kisses on his skin.
Once we rinse, I turn off the water and we get out of the shower.
I gently dry him with one of the soft towels, taking care of him before myself.
I kiss him tenderly on his full lips, and he smiles shyly.
He’s pliant and heavy-eyed as I rub the towel over his shoulders, down his arms, across his chest. I feel he trusts me, which is not something I’ve ever really felt from him before. Not fully.
I cup his cheek and he holds my gaze. “Thank you for coming back to me,” I say quietly.
He swallows. “I needed my alpha.”
My heart aches happily at his words. “Yes, that’s right. You’re where you belong, Elio.”
He doesn’t say anything.
I get him into bed. Pulling the soft, warm covers over us. He curls onto his side, and I fit myself behind him, my arm across his waist, my face in his damp hair. I hold him tight, relishing the feel of his body against mine again. He’s asleep in minutes.
I don’t sleep. Not for a long time.
I lie in the dark with my omega in my arms, more content than I’ve ever been.
I’m still stunned by what has happened between us.
I never saw this happening, not in a million years.
This was supposed to merely be a transaction between us.
A deal with an expiration date. No complications, just business.
But I’ve fallen in love with Elio.
What’s terrifying is I have no idea if he feels the same.
He said he needed to be with me, his alpha.
But is instinct love? What I’m feeling isn’t just instinct.
It’s deeper. I’m a selfish man, but I’d give Elio anything he wants.
Anything at all. I’d take a bullet for him without a second thought. His life matters more than my own.
What if he doesn’t feel the same? I don’t know how much of him I get to keep.
And I’m not a man who does well with uncertainty.
He said he’s accepted who I am so he can stay with me.
Does he mean for the duration of the contract or longer?
I need him to mean longer. But I can’t force him to care about me in return.
What will I do if he doesn’t feel what I feel?
What will I do if he tries to leave me in three years?
I said I’d never let him go, but I don’t want him to be my captive. I want him to be here willingly.
I press my lips to the back of his neck, inhaling his familiar scent. He sighs in his sleep and presses closer to me. I tighten my arms, close my eyes, and hold him, willing him to love me back.
****
I finally do drift off, but Elio wakes me before the sun is fully up. The bed shakes and I become alert to the sound of him rushing toward the bathroom. I sit up, listening to the unmistakable sound of retching. In an instant, I’m out of bed and across the room, hurrying to him.
He’s on his knees on the cold tile, gripping the toilet, his shoulders heaving. I crouch beside him and put my hand on his back. He flinches.
“Are you sick?” Stupid question, obviously. I awkwardly pat his back. “I’m here. It’s okay.”
“Go away,” he rasps, looking embarrassed.
“No. It’s okay. I’ve seen worse.”
He winces and turns back to the toilet. He retches again, bringing up nothing. He does that for a few minutes, muscles straining, but nothing but bile comes up. Eventually, he sits back on his heels, pale, shaking, and covered in sweat.
“I never get sick,” he mumbles.
I frown, stroking his back. “Maybe it’s stress.”
“I don’t know.” He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. “I’ve felt a little off for about a week.”
“Off how?”
He looks at me, letting out a shaky breath. “I don’t think it’s anything I ate. I think I might be… something else.”
I don’t want to get my hopes up, but I think I know what he’s hinting at. “You mean you might be pregnant?”
He swallows hard. “It’s possible.”
I bite my bottom lip, excited at the thought he’s carrying my child. “We can take a pregnancy test. I have some in my medicine cabinet.”
He frowns. “Do you?”
“I had Ornella stock them,” I admit. “Since the idea was you’d give me an heir, it seemed like we should have some tests handy.”
“Oh. Good thinking.”
I help him to his feet and have him sit on the side of the big tub. “I’ll get a test.”
“Okay.” His hand goes to his stomach.
I go to my medicine cabinet and find the pregnancy tests where Ornella put them. My hands are shaking, which is a surprise. My hands don’t shake easily. Of course, it’s also not every day I might find out I’m going to be a father.
I return to him and hand him the box. “Do you want me to go?” I ask. “While you take the test.” I don’t want to go, but I want to do whatever he wants.
“No.” He looks up at me. “Stay.”