Jasper

At twenty-five, I’m a live wire, a storm trapped in skin—tall, lean, my dark hair a wild mess that falls just right, my hazel eyes sharp with a glint I can’t explain. I’ve always been restless, a **** that bends the world my way without much effort, but lately, it’s different—stronger, deeper, like something’s woken up inside me. It’s in the way people look at me now, the way they lean in, eager, especially women. Their eyes linger, their breaths catch, and I get what I want—always have, but now I know it’s not just charm. It’s power, a hunger humming in my blood, a shadow I feel but can’t name. Liam’s essence, though I don’t know his name yet, is alive in me, and I’m ready to play with it.

The office is my stage, a tech firm buzzing with screens and ambition, and she’s the star—Lydia, the belle everyone wants. She’s all curves and confidence, her blonde hair a cascade of gold, her blue eyes bright with a fire that matches mine. Her skirts hug her hips, her blouses tease just enough, and she moves like she knows the room’s hers. I’ve watched her for months, a quiet itch building, but now, with this new heat in me, I’m done waiting. I catch her at the coffee machine, her fingers brushing the mug, and I lean in, close enough to feel her warmth, my voice a low rumble. “Lydia,” I say, letting her name roll off my tongue, “you’re making this place too damn distracting.”

She turns, her lips parting in a half-smile, her gaze flicking over me—my open collar, my rolled sleeves, the way I fill the space. “Jasper,” she replies, her voice a tease, “you’re one to talk.” There’s a spark, a pull, and I feel it—her pulse quickening, her body tilting toward me, caught in whatever this is. I step closer, my hand brushing her arm, a touch that’s light but electric, and her breath hitches, her eyes darkening. “Maybe we should do something about it,” I murmur, my lips near her ear, and she shivers, a flush creeping up her neck. It’s easy, too easy, and I love it—the way she bends, the way I command.

The flirting’s a game at first, a slow burn that lights up the office. I’ll drop by her desk, leaning over her chair, my fingers grazing her shoulder as I point at her screen, my breath warm against her neck. “You missed a line,” I’ll say, and she’ll laugh, but her hand trembles, her thighs pressing together under the desk. She fires back, brushing past me in the hall, her hip nudging mine, her perfume—vanilla, spice—lingering like a dare. “Keep up, Jasper,” she’ll toss over her shoulder, and I’ll grin, my blood singing, the hunger in me coiling tighter.

It turns serious one night, a late shift, the office empty save for us. She’s at her desk, hair loose, her blouse unbuttoned just enough to hint at the lace beneath, and I can’t take it anymore. I cross the room, my steps deliberate, and she looks up, her eyes locking with mine, a challenge in them. “What?” she says, but her voice is husky, wanting, and I don’t answer—just pull her up, my hands on her waist, pressing her against the desk. “This,” I growl, and kiss her—hard, deep, my tongue claiming hers, tasting the heat of her, the need she’s been hiding. She moans, her hands fisting my shirt, pulling me closer, and I feel it—the essence, Liam’s gift, surging, making her mine.

The desk creaks as I lift her onto it, papers scattering, her skirt riding up to bare her thighs. My hands slide under, gripping her hips, and she arches, her nails raking my back through my shirt, tearing at the fabric. “Jasper,” she gasps, and I rip her blouse open, buttons popping, exposing the lace that barely holds her, her breasts spilling into my palms. I tease her, my thumbs circling, my mouth following, sucking through the fabric until she’s writhing, her legs wrapping around me, pulling me in. “Now,” she demands, and I obey, shoving her panties aside, my pants undone in a heartbeat, entering her—deep, fierce, a thrust that makes her cry out, her head thrown back, blonde hair a wild halo.

We move together, a storm of flesh and fire, the desk rocking with us, her moans a melody that drives me wild. My hands roam, one tangling in her hair, the other gripping her thigh, and she bites my lip, drawing blood—a taste that’s sharp, alive, pushing me over the edge. I thrust harder, faster, and she tightens, her release a shudder that pulls me with her, a groan tearing from my throat as I spill into her, our bodies locked, trembling, one. It’s passion, raw and untamed, the essence in me feeding on her surrender, her desire, making it ours.

After that, we’re inseparable—a blaze that consumes us. She’s mine, and I’m hers, the flirting turning to dates, to nights in her bed, my bed, anywhere we can tangle together. Her beauty’s a weapon, her curves a siren’s call, and I’m her match—wild, magnetic, the hunger in me drawing her deeper. We fuck like it’s a ritual—slow and teasing one moment, her lips trailing fire down my chest, my hands pinning her wrists; fast and **** the next, her riding me, my name a scream on her lips. People see us—coworkers, friends—and they’re jealous, awed, because we’re that couple, the ones who burn too bright, too hot.

I propose six months later, under a sky streaked with stars, my ring on her finger, her body pressed to mine as we kiss, a promise sealed in heat. We marry in a whirlwind—her in white lace that clings like sin, me in a suit that she tears off later, our wedding night a blur of sweat and sighs, her thighs around me, my mouth on her neck, tasting her pulse. Liam’s essence is in me, awake and alive, giving me this—her, us, a love that’s passionate, erotic, unstoppable. She doesn’t know the source, doesn’t need to; it’s ours now, a fire we stoke together, married, bound, eternal in our own way.