There were compliments in mimicry, but to be unique was invaluable.
All I wanted to be was unique in my craft.
The meatloaf was in the oven, the potatoes steaming in a colander, ready for mashing. I’d made fresh buttermilk biscuits and gravy from scratch.
I’d even gone a little overboard, trying to impress Harrison by making a chocolate sour cream cake, but secretly hoping that he was my dessert instead.
I set the table simply and waited. I laughed at myself as I tapped my finger on the marble countertop. Usually, whoever my date was had to wait for me.
The doorbell rang, and the sound made my groin tighten and my heart thump.
I breathed in and out slowly, trying in vain to cool down. I hadn’t even let him in, and my belly fluttered like it was my first date.
I opened the door and sucked in a breath. Harrison wore a blue jean button-down shirt with a pair of dark-brown pants—with flip-flops.
“I really didn’t plan on any social calls. Anyway, I’m a flip-flop kind of guy.” He wiggled his toes as he explained away his shoe choice. I didn’t have the heart to tell him that I loved a tough guy in flip-flops as long as he took care of his feet, which Harrison obviously did.
“Flip-flops are great. Come on in.”
After I closed the door, I reached out and pulled him into a hug. I hadn’t planned it but he didn’t resist. In fact, he ran his broad hands down my back and let them linger just above my ass.
I breathed through my nose long and deep to take in his scent. Harrison must’ve been a feral child or something. It was like the forest was embedded into his skin. The scent wrapped around me as I pulled back and zeroed in on his lips.
“Smells good in here,” Harrison said, taking a look around the place.
“I hope you like meatloaf. I felt like something comforting.”
“I do like meatloaf, but I wasn’t really talking about the food.”
My eyes lifted to meet his as I made my way back to the kitchen to finish up. He winked at me and then stroked his beard again.
Damn it, the beard did me in.
“I’ve got to finish up the meal. You’re welcome to look around or whatever.” He took a seat at the bar and watched me. It was a pet peeve of mine, people watching me cook. On TV, people watching was okay because it wasn’t live, but real people in my kitchen unnerved me.
Except Harrison—him watching me while I did what I do best only revved me up in more ways than one.
“This is your place?” he asked. I thought I’d told him that I was passing through, but I could understand his confusion.
“I’m just staying here while I’m in town. Hotels give me the creeps and no kitchen.”
He nodded. “You like to cook?”
“Yeah. Since I was little. My mom taught me how.” It wasn’t a lie. But what I’d left out was that after my mom taught me the basics, I’d gone to le Cordon Bleu in Paris and studied to become a chef. Graduated best in the class.
“So where do you call home?”
“I travel a lot, but I have a house in Los Angeles. Still looking for a place to call home—or a person.”
His eyebrows bunched when I looked at him. I’d mashed the potatoes with milk and butter and sprinkled in garlic and chives.
“A person?”
I didn’t look at him while I spoke. I couldn’t. “Yeah, an omega. Someone to spend my life with—have children with—someone to call home.”
I attempted to change the subject by scooping some of the mashed potatoes onto a clean spoon and offering him a bite. He took it slowly and put his hand over mine to pull it out. Our eyes met. I swallowed against the lump that had formed in my throat while watching him take the spoon into his mouth.
“Mmm, those are really good.”
I took the rest of the food out and prepared it for serving. We sat at the table and made small talk for a minute.
“Damn, Lucas, you went all out. I’m not sure anyone has ever made a meal like this for me.”
“Not even your parents?” I asked. My mom made a spread like this every single night—without fail.
“My mom died during childbirth. Dad ran off. I was raised by my grandfather. He taught me to craft wood. Started when I was four. I think he didn’t know what else to do with me.”
“And your grandmother or other grandfather?” I asked after taking a bite. The meatloaf was succulent and moist, perfect if I did say so myself.
“Grandmother. She passed a few years before I was born. This sure beats The Diner.”
I learned during the meal that Harrison was from Mapleville, a small town. He lived on the outskirts in his grandfather’s old home, the home he grew up in.
He made a decent living off his woodcrafts and lived a simple, quiet life.
I lived a noisy, hectic life. Good thing this was just a date, or hopefully a sleepover. Our worlds were far too different for anything more.
“Cake?” I asked at the end of the meal. He’d finished two full platefuls and four biscuits. The man could eat, and I like that about him.
“I’m stuffed. But, wait a few minutes, and I’ll take a slice. I eat a lot—sorry.”
I got up and went to sit on the couch, patting the seat beside me. “I like a man who can eat.”
“What else do you like in a man, Lucas?” he asked, sitting next to me. I scooted closer, needing his warmth. I felt cold all the time—not my skin, but inside, like whatever was supposed to heat my soul was missing.
“Beards.” I reached out and smoothed his like I’d seen him do before. He groaned in response and grabbed my waist, pulling me closer. The hair was coarse and thick. I wondered if the rest of his hair was the same texture.
“You can’t really get a feel for it like that.” He took my hand and laid it on his thigh. “Come here.” I leaned forward, not really knowing what Harrison meant, but hoping to the gods he meant to kiss me.
“Closer,” he whispered, pulling me onto his lap. I straddled his hips, and they bucked once, almost by themselves. “Give me that sweet mouth,” he growled as he demanded my lips, and once he took them, I moaned and finally got my fingers into his hair. Harrison bit down gently on my bottom lip and put his hands on my ass, bringing me closer to where my hard-on rubbed against his tight stomach.
His tongue coaxed my lips apart. He took the opening and plunged his tongue inside, moving in a rhythm that threatened to make me come with just a kiss.
“Shirt,” he said, out of breath as I was. He helped me pull off my shirt and toss it to the side. Before I could get my mouth back on his, his hot lips closed around my pierced nipple and sucked, at first gently, but harder as I responded with sounds of passion.
It looked like dessert was me after all.
Chapter Four
Harrison
When I stepped into the apartment Lucas was renting, I expected a pot of pasta, maybe some baked chicken. Never in my wildest dreams had I suspected anything like the feast he laid before me. He fluffed it off as simple comfort food, but there had been nothing simple to it.
There was something about being fed by an alpha with food he prepared with his own hands that just did it for me. And when said alpha was hot as sin and easy to talk to, to boot, it was all I could do not to jump him right then and there. Somehow, I resisted.
That was until he had us settled into his couch and was touching my beard. The heat in his eyes matched the fire in my belly, and before I knew it I was pulling him onto my lap and savoring the taste of him, the feel of his lips on mine, his scent enveloping me. I’d never wanted anyone more than I did him in that moment.
When I yanked his shirt from him, I just about came. Damn he was sexy. And if shirtless Lucas wasn’t enough, that was when Alpha Lucas came out.
“Bedroom,” he commanded.
Yes, please.
We all but ran there, losing articles of clothing along the way. If I’d been home and just met him, we’d probably be going about things at a much slowe
r pace, but we had one night, and I was so ready to take advantage of it. And who was I fooling? No matter where I met him, we’d have been going at it like this. The lust between us was palpable.
We hit his bed, completely naked, and he then he got up and went rummaging through his suitcase that was perched on his dresser, cussing as he did.
“Just a minute.” And like that, he was out of there and in what I assumed was his en suite. Cusses flew from there as well.
It took a moment for my brain to catch up with what was happening. He was looking for a condom. I ran out of there faster than fast, found my pants just outside the bedroom door, and yanked my wallet from it, grabbing the condom I had stashed. I wasn’t sure how long it had been there, but I was pretty freaking happy with past Harrison at that moment.
I jogged back into the bedroom to find Lucas there looking confused until I held up the condom.
“Thank fuck. I thought I brought some on the trip. I had not.” I didn’t unpack that statement too much, not wanting to think of him with another omega or alpha or beta or freaking anyone. This was our time, and any thoughts of someone else were pushed aside. I threw the condom on the bed before opening my arms to Lucas who stepped inside them, slamming his lips to mine.
Our heights matched perfectly, and his cock slid against mine, causing beautiful friction as we kissed until I was about ready to explode. I stepped back, instantly missing his warmth, but not wanting things to be over before they started.
Instead, I dropped to my knees and with one lick, gathered his precum on my tongue before swirling it around the tip and swallowing him to the root, earning me a groan of pleasure.
Sexy alpha.
My hands wrapped around his thighs as I bobbed my head, sucking in deeply while I pulled away, not allowing my hands to play with him, knowing that would end things far too soon. This was foreplay, not the main event. I needed his knot. I only hoped he was willing to give it.
He grabbed ahold of my hair, guiding me briefly in my ministrations before pulling me up and off of his cock.
“When I come, I want to be in you.”
“I need your knot.” No sense being coy, not when we both were so clearly on the same page.
“On the bed, Omega.”
Sexy. Sexy. Alpha.
I sprang to my feet and was on the bed in a second flat, earning me a chuckle from the sexy alpha about to rock my world. Heck, he already had. Anything else we did was icing on the freaking cake.
“What shall we do with that condom? Did you want to wear it, or shall I?”
He did not just ask what I thought he did. Alphas didn’t do that, but the look in his eye told me he was damn serious. I’d never taken an alpha. Another omega, a beta, sure. But never an alpha.
“You are trying to kill me,” I groaned.
“How so?” As if he didn’t know. Lucas climbed onto the bed beside me, his cock bouncing, ready for action.
“You’re making me decide between getting your knot and taking you.”
He nodded as if that were a normal thing that happened in my life. It. Was. Not.
“Impossible decision.”
“Yet it’s yours to make.” He reached over me, grabbing the condom and handing it to me. “Put the condom on whichever of us needs it.”
I ripped it open and it wasn’t until I saw a fresh drop of precum glistening on his cock that I decided.
“Knot me,” I pleaded as I rolled the condom on him, inwardly berating myself for not stopping at the pharmacy on the way to dinner so we could choose option three: both.
“As you wish.” He kissed me soundly, directing us both until lay on the bed as his hand came around to find me slick and waiting. “Damn, look at you so ready for me.”
“Since the field,” I confessed just a second before he had me on my hands and knees and entered me in one single motion.
“Yessss,” I hissed as he filled me completely. I pushed back, willing him to move, and by the second time, he was pistoning into me with full gusto.
He gripped my hips as he drove me closer and closer to climax, his cock hitting me directly in the spot that always had me soaring, the one most guys didn’t even seem to bother looking for. I found myself counting, trying not to come too soon, but as his hand wrapped around my cock giving it a single pump, the attempt was in vain, and I found myself shooting cum all over his bed as he screamed my name and his seed exploded into me.
We collapsed in a pile of sweaty limbs, his knot connecting us as his front pressed against my back.
The last thing I remember hearing before falling asleep was, “Ready for that cake?”
Chapter Five
Lucas
Three months later...
“Just give me the list already.” I jutted my hand out at Warren again and demanded the list of places the studio considered for the new show. My temperament left a lot to be desired in the last few months, and him going through each one like some kind of pompous real estate agent wasn’t going to cut it.
There wasn’t enough coffee in the world to handle that crap.
“Fine, here. They asked that you narrow the list down to three today.” Warren sounded as exasperated with me as I was with myself.
The original list of possible towns to film the new reality show I’d signed up for was over thirty, and since then I’d narrowed it down significantly, dismissing some of them sight unseen. Every week, the studio and the producers hounded me to pick a spot, and I was ready to crumple up this piece of paper and shove it up their—
“What about this one?” Warren interrupted my thoughts. “It’s a smaller town than the rest and really charming. They have a Greek restaurant that looks like it hasn’t been tended to in decades.”
I pushed the other pictures aside to look at of the one he pointed to. It looked quaint with an attractive main drag and picturesque town hall. The restaurant had seen better days, but it had bones, and bones I could work with.
“What’s the name of this one?” I asked, going straight to my computer to google it.
“Mapleville. So vintage sounding.” I think Warren wanted to live in Mapleville from his reaction.
The town seemed nice enough. Florist, coffee shop, run-of-the-mill diner, and everything else you would expect in a small town. It actually looked like a nice place to live. I’d bet people moved to Mapleville to raise families.
“Where have I heard this name?” I tapped my temple. I listened to people talk to me all day, most of them wanting something from me. But I knew for sure the name Mapleville had come up.
“Holy crap. I know where.” Warren sprang from his chair and grabbed his iPad where he flipped through something. “I take pictures of every business card I get. And this one was a doozy. I know it’s in here. It’s a wood-finish card.”
I leaned back in my desk chair. “We have connections in Mapleville?”
A blush bloomed on his face. “Well, you have a connection in Mapleville. Boy, I deserve a raise for this one.”
“Show me.” Finally, he landed on what he was after and shoved the iPad in my face. I slapped my hand over my mouth, feeling like the biggest idiot on the planet as I read the name of the business and, more specifically, the owner. Of course. Mapleville. The place where the one who slipped away lived.
The one I thought about almost every second.
The one I dreamed about at night.
The one who was long gone the next morning when I woke and turned over to see the other pillow void of him.
Harrison.
Harrison lived in Mapleville and his shop was there, and he was there...and he was there.
I gathered up all the pictures in a disorganized bundle, not the least bit interested in any other prospect. “Call the studio. Tell the producers I’ve decided on Mapleville, and if they don’t agree, tell them I’m not doing the show. That’s it. End of story.”
His eyebrows shot up. “Just like that? That Harrison guy…”
I zeroed my best stink
eye at him, but then let out a long sigh. Warren had put up with quite a bit from me since that fateful craft show. I’d been moody and irrational—downright temper-driven in most cases. And that was after I got over the week of moping around and not showering.
He was the one who came to the apartment and snapped me out of it.
And, while I went about my life, I didn’t think there was a chance in hell of ever getting over Harrison Graham—ever.
“What about him? Stole my heart? Didn’t answer my calls or texts? Left me with nothing but a memory?”
Warren pouted a little. “All of that. Yes. You haven’t been the same, since, and you have yet to unpack all the stuff you had me buy from him.”
I exhaled and turned my chair to look out the window at the city skyline. I bet Harrison was looking out on mountains or forest or whatever naturescape surrounded his house, not thinking about me. “I can’t look at it, yet. But if the producers go for Mapleville, which I think they will, we’ll make sure his stuff is in every shot. I’ll see if I can unpack it tonight. It might do me good. We’ll bring it all down there when we go. Speaking of, let’s plan a weekend trip to scope it out.”
“And see Harrison.”
I turned back around and pointed at him. “Don’t get cheeky, Warren. Just because I told you some lovey-dovey crap doesn’t mean you’re my dating coach or whatever. And yes, we will find Harrison.”
I’d become straight-up ridiculous since beard and tattoos broke me in two.
“Okay, then. I’ll go book some flights and yell at some producers and not be your dating coach. Anything else you need?”
“Yeah, cancel all my orders of Hans’s salmon. He tried to pass off frozen as fresh this morning and pissed me off.”
“Yes, Sir. Mapleville, here we come. Hans, you’re in the toilet.”
I wrapped my arms around my torso, thinking of the possibilities awaiting me in Mapleville. Yes, there was the show, but even though my life had been nothing but work, work, work since I’d gotten out of school, the dream for more still burned like an ember in my heart.
Tasting His Omega Page 2