I sniff, still tear-streaked. “God, I’m a mess.”
“Yeah,” he says softly, brushing a thumb over my cheek. “But you’re my mess.”
And then he’s bending, a hand reaching to grab the honey jar off the ground before he dips forward, catching me behind the knees.
I let out a quiet gasp as he lifts me clean off the ground.
“Reid—”
“Shut up a minute,” he rasps. “I need to make a proper mess of you.”
He carries me across the lawn and lowers me onto the outdoor couch that curves around the unlit firepit. The cushions are softbeneath my thighs, the kind of plush you can sink into and never want to leave.
The honey jar clinks softly as he sets it down on the table beside us, and then he kisses me. The love crashes through both of us in an instant—his mouth is hot and rough, tongue greedy as he pushes me back and finds the edge of my borrowed T-shirt, dragging it up over my head.
I’m in nothing but panties underneath, and his groan could break the sky.
“Fuck,” he breathes. “You’ve been lying in my bed like this?”
“You were the one who left it,” I pant.
“I’m never leaving again.”
He moves over me, and my legs part instinctively to let him in. One hand reaches behind him, fingers curling around the jar.
The lid pops off with a soft click.I barely have time to process the sound before he’s dipping two fingers in and drizzling a thin line down my chest. The honey is warm from the sun, thick and golden as it rolls between my breasts.
“You’re fucking dangerous,” he says, voice like gravel. “Do you know that?”
“No,” I breathe. “But you’re welcome to show me.”
He sets the jar aside and follows the trail with his mouth, licking it clean. Every sweep of his tongue burns with reverent hums, as though I’m the best thing he’s ever tasted.
I arch under him, fingers in his hair, moaning when he sucks a drop from the underside of my breast.
“Fuck, Havoc,” he murmurs.
He reaches down and tugs my panties off, then drizzles another line of honey over my hip, the top of my thigh, the soft skin just beside where I’m aching.
“Reid—”
His mouth follows, mustache bristling against my skin, and when he finally puts his mouth on me, I can’t help the whimper I let out.
My hips grind up into his mouth, and he moans like he’s trying to drink the sound of me down.
And when I come, he doesn’t stop. He keeps lapping, hungry for the taste of me until I’m twitching, and only then does he kiss up the inside of my thigh, over my belly, between my breasts. The scrape of his stubble makes me flinch, already so sensitive I’m trembling.
When he reaches my mouth, I taste myself and the honey on his tongue.
“Need you,” I moan into him. “Please.”
Something feral flashes across his face as he fumbles at his waistband, kicks his shorts off with a muttered curse, and sits back against the cushions. His cock is hard and flushed, heavy against his stomach, and the sight of it makes something greedy curl low in my belly.
I straddle him without asking and sink down, watching his face as I take him inch by inch.
“Slow,” he breathes. “All the way down. Wanna watch you sit on it.”
“Like this?” I lean down to kiss him as I roll my hips and moan.
