Chapter 12
Ido my best to ignore Jasper as he prepares a simple breakfast. Just like I do my best to not think about him walking into the apartment in the middle of the night, smelling of Dominic so strongly I could still smell the citrus scent of my friend when I grabbed a drink this morning. Instead, I try to focus on the travel guitar in my hands, running through the extended solo of one of the songs the band is recording tonight. Not that I succeed.
Every few heartbeats, I glance across the open space, watching as he works in the kitchen, my eyes unerringly finding the source of my frustration. This time is no different. The bruise might as well have a spotlight on it, the way it sits above the collar of his black tee but below his hairline. Every Alpha instinct comes surging to life, the need to stake my claim on him, mark him, making my hands tremble.
What is it about him that makes me so reactive?
He has no scent, no need for comfort or reassurance, no drive to make me proud or content. He isn’t misdesignated. Jasper is as Beta as they come.
And yet I want to bend him over the island and bite over that damn hickey until it’s my bruise left on his throat. Until it’s my cock he’s stretching his lips around and my cum coating his throat. My forgotten boner rages to life at the thought, and it’s the metaphorical last straw.
I perch the guitar against the side of the couch and cross the space before he’s finished plating the eggs. His head snaps up when I pull the plate away from him and set it on the counter, his eyes wide with his shock. His throat moves with his sudden swallow.
Fuck me, bergamot floods the space. For a moment, I hope he won’t notice my scenting, but then his nostrils flare.
“What’s wrong?” he asks.
Wrong? Part of me wants to double check he understands what scenting is, what it signifies. Alphas don’t fucking scent when things are wrong. And right now? The only thing wrong is that I’m pining over a man who clearly has eyes for everyone but me. Including my best fucking friend. I breathe through my nose, clenching my hands, trying to calm that innate part of me that needs him to understand that he’s mine.
Jasper grabs the edge of the counter, his grip tight enough that his knuckles whiten and his forearms go taut. He runs his tongue over his bottom lip, eyes skating over me. I take another deep breath, trying to convince myself to take a step back, to ignore that hickey, but just as I’m managing to lift my foot, I notice a second bruise just under his left ear, like where I might put a bonding mark on an Omega.
My dick twitches.
“Rylan?” he asks, lowering his voice. It sluices over me, trying to calm me, but all I can think of is someone else—another fucking Alpha—having him splayed out on a bed to do with as they please. “What happened, Rylan? What has you so reactive?”
The last bit of resistance fades, slammed out of me by a roaring wave of Alpha-fueled need. I close the distance between us, pressing my hips to his, a growl settling low in my throat. His eyes flare, his hold on the counter relaxing.
“You,” I mutter.
I grab him, cupping his face, and slam my lips to his, using my extra inches of height to tilt him to an angle that allows me better access. It’s nothing like what a first kiss should be, soft and sweet and unspoken promises. I’m rough and demanding, dumping all my frustration into the movement of my mouth and lips and tongue. He hums, opening for me before I even run my tongue along his lip, and I smirk against his mouth, twisting my hand into the hair at the nape of his neck. I scent harder, bergamot overwhelming the room, so thick I’m practically choking on it. A Beta would probably assume an Omega lives here, it’s so powerful in this moment.
His hands are warm where they reach under my shirt and press against my stomach, the calluses from his daily playing catching on my skin. I crowd into him, stealing the last bits of space between us until his breath catches, and then rip my mouth from his, sucking on that damn bruise under his ear, pulling the skin between my teeth.
His groan sets me aflame, a low purr kicking up in my chest that I quickly tamp down. Last thing I need is him knowing just what the hell he does to me. He runs a finger across the waistband of my sweats, the question unspoken but loud enough. I bite that bruise again.
“Is that a yes?” he asks, groaning again as I grind against him.
I nod, running my tongue across his jaw until I see the other hickey. His hands are sure, diving into my pants and circling the root of my cock before I can manage to take a breath. He strokes me, from root to tip and back. My knees buckle, and I bite that second bruise, giving in to the need pulsing through me to claim him as my own.
I’ll regret it the moment whatever the fuck this is ends. The moment he pulls away and remembers he hates me and can’t stand my presence, that disinterest will dull his eyes, and I’ll hate myself for letting him know just how fucking hard he makes me. But I’m not going to deny that his hands on my dick has me wanting to find an Omega just so I can feel him through a fucking bond.
I capture his mouth again, thrusting into his hold, twisting my hands into the short hairs at the nape of his neck. He manages to push the sweats down to my knees without losing hold of me, and fire licks down my spine. That should absolutely not be such a turn-on but fuck am I hard right now.
“Jasper,” I whisper against his lips.
He pulls away from me, his eyes bright, his cheeks flushed, his neck roughed up from my mouth. He swipes away the pre-cum beading at the tip of my cock, his thumb playing with my piercing even as he uses his hold as leverage to force me to take a step back. I brace myself for the rejection, for the same speech he gave Poppy when she finally braved asking him out at the beginning of the season a few months ago.
You’re a wonderful person. An excellent musician. I’m not interested in anything romantic right now. Believe me when I say it’s me and not you.
She had handled it with way more grace than I know I’m capable of. She’d even joined Huntley a couple times for trivia—and sat right next to Jasper all evening without a bit of jealousy poisoning her smile in the pictures the group had shared to social media.
Just the thought has me frowning, though his continued touch keeps my dick from deflating. Why is he still touching me if he’s going to let me down gently?
My hips rock forward without my meaning to. His grip tightens, and I stifle a groan. Silence stretches between us, my gaze catching on the way his tongue lingers on his lip, the way his Adam’s apple moves with his quick swallow. I open my mouth, not entirely sure what’s about to fall from my lips, when Jasper drops to his knees. The movement’s so graceful a flash of envy races through me. If I hadn’t heard the magic he can pull from a cello, I’d think he’d wasted his potential by not pursuing some kind of sport.
His eyes flicker up to mine, the blue peeking out from his lashes, and my cock twitches in his grip. He doesn’t say anything as he takes me into his mouth, his lips stretching, his cheeks hollowing out as he sucks me deep. I lean forward, grabbing the edge of the counter, grunting as he shallows out, his tongue running over the slit, licking away another bead of pre-cum before tracing the piercing with an experimental touch.
The entire time, his gaze stays locked on mine. It’s arguably the hottest experience I’ve had. His soft touch on my thighs sends a shiver down my spine, and I suck in a harsh breath, trying to rein in what I can of the overwhelming rut instinct. I’m only moderately successful, managing to keep from thrusting forward even while I moan, goosebumps racing across my hips as he finds the sensitive space between my dick and my balls.
It distracts me enough that I don’t realize how deep he’s taking me. I clench my teeth, but I can’t keep my growl back this time, the low rumble filling the room as throughly as my scent as I bump the back of his throat.
“Fuck.”
The curse falls from my lips, nearly a pained gasp as the muscles of his throat constrict around me, pulling me even deeper, his nose brushing my pelvis. Fire licks through my veins, pooling at the base of my spine.
Because of fucking course it would be Jasper that gives such a perfect blowjob that I’m at risk of blowing within three minutes.
The single word admission spurs him on, his gaze trained on me as he works me with a precision I hadn’t realized I desire. Sloppy, messy, brutal blowjobs are almost always what I receive, and I luxuriate in them—in the submission they require.
But Jasper’s skilled touch has me dangling over the precipice way faster than normal, has me already aching for more. His hands are steady, soft, his lips firm, his mouth the hottest of hells and the sweetest of tortures. Holding back the desire to rut shatters my control, and my release races through me before I can do more than offer a low grunt in warning. Jasper doesn’t even blink, swallowing before I’ve fully spent, his throat squeezing the head of my dick so thoroughly I moan, the sound as breathless and shaky as I feel.
“Jasper,” I whisper, the awkward reality of our dynamic creeping back into the room. He pops off me, the slurping sound making me grunt, and then pulls my sweats back over my hips.
“Better?” he asks, still kneeling before me.
When I nod, his throat ripples, and another rush of desire races through me, making my dick twitch again already. He blows out a breath, easing to his feet. I drop my hands, giving him space.
“I have to go.”
No.
I grab his wrist as he moves past me, forcing him to still. Something passes over his face, an emotion I don’t know him well enough to understand. In a moment, it’s gone, his carefree half-smile twisting his lips but not reaching his eyes.
“I have private lessons today,” he says, that same careful calm as earlier.
It’s like he can tell whatever is upsetting me hasn’t really resolved. How the hell is he so attuned to me? Is it because he’s fucked Alphas before?
I slam a wall around that thought, beating it to silence. Thinking like that will set me off again. I force myself to release him, watching him the entire time he organizes his things and slings his cello over his shoulders.
“Jasper,” I whisper when he’s a moment from leaving.
His hand stills on the doorknob, his head tilted away from me. His shoulders move with his deep breath, his knuckles whitening for a hair’s breadth of time before they relax again. His voice is soft, careful, but it does nothing to soothe my rage, my primal need for him.
“It doesn’t need to change anything, Rylan. I don’t expect anything.”
Change nothing? He can just give me the best goddamn blowjob of my life and walk away like it was any other typical morning? Like he manages angry, territorial Alphas all the damn time?
A wave of primal need rises in me, so swift it steals my breath. I take a step toward him, but he’s already opening the door and stepping out into the hallway. He doesn’t look back as the latch resettles. I run my hands down my face as I turn away from the rejection, my skin crawling. His uneaten eggs sit as a silent reminder on the counter. I don’t even realize what I’m doing until I hear the shattering of the ceramic against the tile backsplash.
It does nothing to soothe the ache in my chest.