Novels by Honey Pot

ANASTASIA. The skirt falls from my teeth. I can’t help it. It just does. “Holy…shit…fuck…”“What did I say about language?” He speaks against me and it’s like a rumble on my oversensitive skin.“I can’t…can’t control it.”“Because you’re close?”“Yeah.” And because it’s him. But I don’t get to say that, because he sucks on something else.My clit.Holy shit. Shit!The spasms take over me without warning and I’m falling. I’m falling so hard that I think it’ll never stop.The fall.The pleasure.The depravity of it all.It does, though, leaving me in a haze, and I think it’s over. But his stubble glides over the sensitive flesh of my thighs and he’s still lapping at me, sucking, nibbling, torturing my sensitive clit.For some reason, I’m so much more tender now than when he fingered me. And it hurts. It hurts so good.“Damien…I can’t…take it…” I reach a hand for his hair in an attempt to touch those strands, to push him back.“Hands and feet on the desk, Anastasia.”I snap back into p

ANASTASIA. A normal person probably would, but I’m a little weird and a very bad girl, so you can play with me all you want. I’ll be your toy.” At least that way he’s not putting a thousand walls up between us.That way, I can get close, even if only by sex. I’m fine with sex. I like the feelings it brings and the surrender of it all. And if what happened last night is any indication, sex with Damien will probably bulldoze through all my thoughts and expectations.As if to prove that it’ll go way different than I’ve fantasized, Damien reaches a hand to the waistband of my skirt and toys with the zipper, his thumb grazing my hipbone beneath my shirt. “You’ll be my toy, huh?”“Yeah.”“I can play with you?”“You can.”“Do you let boys play with you often, Anastasia?”“Sometimes…”He doesn’t like that. He doesn’t like it one bit, and that translates through the crowding tension in his shoulders and the way his touch turns from explorative to downright dominating. He grips me by the hip,

DAMIEN. “Picking up Payton.” She clinks her nails hard, the sound escalating with every second. “Stop smiling at her, flirting with her, all of it.”“What the hell are you talking about?”“I saw you yesterday. You went out together for lunch and never came back.”“Because we had meetings with judges.”She scrunches her nose like she used to do whenever Mary made the mistake of not including her favorite drink with her meal. “I still don’t like it—her in your car, I mean. So if you don’t want me on the Harley, don’t let her in your Mercedes.”I can’t resist smiling at how she negotiates. She’s all uptight and serious, too, making a mountain out of a molehill. All her assumptions about me and Payton are unfounded, but I don’t correct her, because she looks weirdly adorable right now.“And then what?”That catches her off guard, causing a frown to crease her forehead. “Then?”“What happens after Payton isn’t in my car and you’re not on the back of the bike?”“I…don’t know.”“Are you goi

DAMIEN. Something alarming, as in, someone probably asked her if I’m gay. That’s what her socialite friends spout off about me when I refuse to meet their prim and proper daughters. That I’m gay.I ignore Mom and her shallow entourage. The thought of her and Dad brings forward nausea I’ve been trying to get rid of for fucking decades.But Anastasia and the not-some-normal bike kid are still talking and laughing. They’re still trapped in their own world as if the rest of their surroundings don’t exist.So I pick up my phone and call her.Her smile drops when she sees my name on the screen, and she swallows a few times before she picks up.“Hello?”“Have you finished the report I sent you this morning?”“I’m getting there.”“Getting there doesn’t mean it’s done, Anastasia.”“I’ll be finished in a few.”“My office. Now.” I hang up and take the elevator to the highest floor, then head to my office and sit behind my desk.Soon after, there’s a knock on the door before Anastasia comes insi

ANASTASIA. He pumps them in me, and I’m clenching him—us—in a choke-like hold.“Fuck. Do you feel how your tight pussy is strangling me?”“Yeah…”He groans deep in his throat, and it does things to me, things like making me tighten around him harder, swallowing him deeper.And I can’t help moaning. I don’t have the space of mind to control it or the rest of the sounds that come out of me.I’m a mess of chaotic emotions and sensations, and there’s no way I can mute myself anymore.“Is it because it feels full?”“Yeah, full and good and…and…I’m…”“And you’re what?” He pumps harder, faster, pressing the heel of my palm against my clit.The sureness in his movements, the pure dominance of it, drags me under in one swift movement.“I’m coming!”I clench around him the hardest yet as that wave crashes into me. The orgasm is neither gentle nor soft. It’s callous and demanding, just like him. My legs shake over his shoulders, and my head is a fog of mixed emotions—emotions I can’t get hold o

ANASTASIA. My nipples harden and push against my bra and shirt, making them ache, but not as much as where my fingers are heading. That’s where it hurts the most, because his eyes are there.So I sink my fingers between my folds, using him as an anchor. And it feels different with him watching, like I’m building up an explosion, not an orgasm.But my hand is too soft, and it’s not enough, even when I twist my clit and roll my hips.I think it’s because he’s there and he’s watching with his jaw set in a line. Although I want him to watch me, to see me, so what’s wrong?I can’t reach that peak, no matter how much I try, and it’s not due to my lack of arousal, because I’m so soaked that there are probably wet spots on the sheet.“What’s wrong, baby girl? Having trouble?”My fingers pause at that. Baby girl.I think I became wetter, too, but that might be because he’s pushed off the wall and is stalking toward me. And it’s downright stalking, with his shoulders squared and his steps slow