Poem Honey Novels & Stories

But I had no other choice but to take her word. “So what are you working on with work by the way?” “Well it’s actually for Edith. They have so much honey. More than they can supply to their town. So we just get buyers and try to find a logistics company.” I suddenly felt my chest tighten. Like something was sitting on it. I tried to take a breath but it didn’t go all the way in. “Sweetie are you okay?” I heard my mom say. In between my breaths I was trying to get words out.

Is it even healthy for me to be eating this much of it? Honestly, I don’t care. My wolf purrs whenever I’m savoring some, so I’m going to say it is a good thing. I lick my lips as I stare hungrily at the piece of toast while I slowly drizzle the honey across it. As I take a deep breath and inhale the honey aroma, my wolf once again purrs while he wags his tail. Why does the smell of honey have such an effect on us? Oh, I wish I knew why.

The spot I'm lying on is now warm from my heat. “Wider for me,” he teases. “I need to marinate your pussy.” “Oh, god,” I mumble. My legs stiffen and my toes form a lump from intense curling. When the honey mix pours on the top of my pussy and glides down my slit, I drip. Wet. Slippery. It mixes the honey and smoothly runs down my body like butter. “I see that, my rose.” He faintly chuckles. “The wet sloppy sound your hissing pussy makes is too loud not to notice.”

“Wake up, bro. Kid isn’t even here for you to claim lack of sleep for your slacking.” I shook my head and focused on stringing up the white and yellow streamers that went with the honey bee theme Pam and Hana decided on. I don’t think Hana gets the joke the same way I do. In the last decade, Pam has commented more than once about Winnie the Pooh and his bottomless hunger for honey compared to my hunger for her. Let Hana and everyone else think it’s just a cute baby thing or that Pam’s number on pregnancy craving has been honey. She puts that shit on everything… and I mean everything.

Candice murmured around a mouthful "The spices are heavenly; it is so heavy and it lingers over your tongue like butter." She looked up and saw Sally smiling proudly from a corner, raising her right thumb, she gave her a thumbs-up. Sally looked confused then, quickly looked away, returning to her previous chore. The honey bread was a morsel of baked bread with a slight cut in the middle, it was crunchy on the outside with a honey-like jelly on the inside. Candice closed her eyes in bliss when she stuffed a piece in her mouth. From that moment, she knew she would keep coming to this restaurant. Nothing she had eaten ever since she arrived here had given her this much pleasure, this right here

Not after Killian assaulted a human. The girls and I have worked so hard. We built the bee hives. The herb garden. It took so long for the cuttings to sprout. We killed a lot before they took root. And then after we mastered growing them, there were the plagues: slugs, spider mites, whiteflies. One step forward, two steps back. Another honey vendor showed up one day, and they had dandelion honey and sourwood honey and all different types, not just clover. Then another showed up. Then every farmer had honey, and our profits hit the crapper.

“Nobody has beautiful feet.” “You do.” He kissed my ankle. My instep. The delicate bones along the top. “Everything about you is beautiful.” “That’s the honey talking.” “I haven’t opened the honey yet.” *Then he did. The lid twisted off with a soft pop, and the smell of wildflower filled the space between us. He drizzled a thin line along the top of my foot—cold, then warm as it met my skin—and lowered his mouth.* *His tongue was hot and slow and devastating. He licked the honey off in long, deliberate strokes, tracing every tendon, every bone, every inch of skin I’d never thought of as sensitive until his mouth was on it. I gripped the couch cushions and tried to remember how to breathe.*

"You purchase them. You haul them home. You neglect them until they liquefy in the crisper drawer." "That's a catastrophically inefficient system." "It's the human system." We halt at a stall where a woman with soil ground into her fingernails sells jars of honey in gradients from pale gold to black amber. Julian seizes a jar, reads the label, and his brow furrows. "This honey costs forty dollars." "It's local. It's artisanal. Bees with refined palates harvested it." "That's not the operational mechanics of bees." "You're annihilating the ordinary experience."

He caressed her pale cheeks with distressed eyes before opening the jar and taking out the pearly honey dew after pinching the purple striped bee to death. Samel put the honey dew on Asha’s lips and pushed them in the lightly opened soft petals that seems to burn his hands with electricity. The honey dew that was painstakingly created by the purple striped bee worked fast in detoxifying its own poison, and Asha’s complexion visibly improved which settled down Samel’s anxious heart. Samel slightly tightened his arms around Asha as the feeling of satisfaction and completeness drowned his entire soul in ecstacy.

I head into the bathroom, humming without realizing it. Warm water hits my skin, and I start singing along softly to From Eden by Hozier that played from my phone. 'Honey, you're familiar like my mirror years ago Idealism sits in prison Chivalry fell on his sword. Innocence died screaming Honey, ask me I should know I slithered here from Eden just to sit outside your door.'