As soon as the front door closes behind me, I slump against it, shoulders deflating like a lead balloon, drained of all energy. My keys clink when I toss them, along with my wallet, into the glass dish that sits on my entry table.
The relief when my feet slip out of my shoes and I make my way to the kitchen, unbuttoning my shirt and pulling it free from my jeans, has me letting out a giant sigh.
I head straight for the fridge and pull out a beer, popping the top before taking a long pull from the bottle. There’s something about a cold beer that hits you in the bones.
I turn around and prop myself against the counter. The bottle is halfway to my lips when a flicker of movement in my living room catches my eye.
Now, I’m not saying the sound that comes out of my mouth is anything dignified. I will fully own up to that.
“What… the… fuck… Jasper?” I say, my hand going to my chest like I’m clutching some kind of string of imaginary pearls. “You scared the ever-loving shit out of me! What are you doing in my living room?”
“Did you have a dog when you were little?” he asks, standing next to my fireplace mantel.
Wha…?
He’s wearing black leather pants and his signature white boa jacket, the complete opposite of my grease-stained jeans, T-shirt, and flannel. He looks like he stepped out of a fashion magazine.
Jasper’s mop of wavy curls sticks up in all directions while his bracelet-adorned wrists jingle as he turns the pages in my photo album. He’s a vibrant burst in my otherwise ordinary living room.
“Wait? What?” I ask, focusing on the question and not on the beautiful man in tight leather pants in front of me. A man can only take so much.
“Growing up, did you have a dog? I don’t notice any signs of…”
“No, no, no, no…” I quickly shut the photo album and pull it from his grasp. I do not need him seeing my buck-toothed, pimple-adorned face of childhood.
“I don’t see any signs of pets in your family photos. I kinda had you pegged for a dog person?”
“Jasper, what are you doing here, and how did you get in?” I ask, pinching the bridge of my nose.
He looks at me and winks before taking the beer out of my hand and bringing it to his lips, taking a sip.
And… now I’m fixated on those pouty lips as they curl around the bottle. No matter how much he infuriates me, he always stops me in my tracks with his flawless beauty and grace.
Focus Olly.
He hands me the bottle back, stepping up close, our chests inches apart as he looks me straight in the eyes.
It’s hard to focus. I’m also finding it hard to breathe.
“Do you ever just need to feel something? Anything? Like, if you don’t show proof you exist in the world, you might be nothing more than a speck of dust.”
There’s worry in his eyes, almost as if he truly believes he’s nothing. Jasper Valintine is far from nothing.
“We all want to feel something. It’s scary to think we might be insignificant in the grand scheme of things,” I say.
And then, something I don’t see coming…
Jasper’s lips crash into mine and a gasp leaves me.
What is happening? Is Jasper kissing me?
Of course, I know he’s kissing me, but we don’t kiss. Well, I have always wanted to kiss but…
He tastes like strawberries, and his lips are soft, like cotton candy. The metal of his lip ring is a cool contrast to the heat of his tongue as it dances along the edge of my lips, causing my dick to twitch. The kiss is quick and deep before ending slowly and breathlessly.
“Jasper?” I breathe out, confused.
“What?” he asks, stepping back and turning away from me, casting his gaze at another picture sitting on my mantel. Clearly ignoring whatever the glorious fuck that was. “I was bored and in the neighborhood, so I thought I’d stop by.”
