She leans back just a little as she drizzles the last of it lower. Between her legs. Just a hint of amber sheen disappearing into the heat between her thighs.
My control snaps like brittle sugar glass.
I step toward her, slow and deliberate, until her back hits the edge of the counter. Her breath catches, barely, but I feel it. Her body knows before her brain does—she’s mine.
“I was gonna talk about how honey retains volatile aromatics,” I say, voice low, words dragging like molasses. “Howits glucose-to-fructose ratio affects mouthfeel. How it coats everything it touches.”
I skim a finger across the line she’s drawn on her collarbone and lift it to my lips. Suck it clean, eyes never leaving hers.
“But now?” I murmur, dropping my mouth to her throat, my breath hot and humid against her pulse. “Now I’m thinking about how I’m going to taste it off your perfect skin, inch by inch.”
She exhales, shaky. Sweet fuckin’ music.
“Messy girl,” I say, dragging my tongue along the curve of her collarbone, chasing the trail she left. “I can’t wait to clean you up.”
I shove the jar aside, grip her hips, and hoist her up onto the counter in one movement. Her legs fall open like an invitation.
I lean in and lick across one sticky nipple, slow and firm, tasting sugar and salt and her skin beneath. She arches into me, lets out this gasping whimper that shoots straight to my cock.
“You know honey is antibacterial?” I murmur against her gorgeous tits before sucking one into my mouth. I make sure to tongue every last drop from her piercing. “It preserves everything it touches. Lucky me.”
She tries to pull me in, greedy now, but I don’t let her. Hell no. I want her begging.
“Wanna learn something else?” I say, grinning against her sternum as I trail kisses lower. I press her thighs wider, hooking one over my shoulder. My breath ghosts over her slick skin. Beautiful. Mine.
She stares down at me, a glorious, sweet angel of wrath. “Yes, Chef.”
That does something to me. A shock of power that would have brought me to my knees if I weren’t already on them. “Honey is hygroscopic,” I growl. “Means it draws moisture to it. Makes everything wet as fuck.”
“Nico,plea?—”
I dive in, tongue first, chasing every trace of honey she’s left on her body—every inch she’s tried to turn into a challenge. She moans, high and ragged, clutching my hair as I lick into her with meticulous precision.
“So sweet, baby,” I mutter, relishing in her taste, dragging my mouth up her inner thigh.
“Jesus fucking Christ,” she breathes.
“Was he the one who called this the land of milk and honey?” I taste her again, deeper this time, getting all the way in there, sucking and lashing and letting her grind against my face like I was made for it. Because I was. I fuckin’ was.
When she finally shatters, when her whole body jerks and writhes and she moans my name like it’s the only word she knows, it’s then that I yank her to the edge of the counter and plunge myself in hard and deep, start fucking her in the rough, brutal rutting she likes, licking honied Annie from my lips like the feral fuck I’ve become, the one she’s made me.
Annie screams again. It’s my new favorite sound after “Nico” and “please.”
“And on the sixth day, they made a sex tape,” Annie says in the car hours later, fiddling with my phone. “What do you think is the best way to get this from your phone to mine?”
We were a little late leaving the house. Lots of cleanup.
Now we’re hauling ass to Miami. This is our last stretch in the small space of this car, this car that we’ve filled with truth and lies and more truth, hugs and words and more hugs. And sex tapes.
“Dunno, sweetheart. Try the drop thing.”
She fiddles some more. “Done.”
“Just make sure no one sees it,” I remind her. After very little consideration, I decided not to post the video toNakedReactions.
Annie’s silent.
I look over, and she’s vibrating with tension. Her eyes brighten again. Hello, Impulsive Annie Li.
