Poem Honey Novels & Stories

But he had chosen to leave, to disappear, and to hide in the shadows while I ate his food and read his words and tried to make sense of a man I did not understand. I picked up the bread and tore off a piece, and the warmth of it spread through my fingers and into my chest. I dipped it in the honey and put it in my mouth, and the sweetness filled my tongue, and I closed my eyes and tried to remember the last time I had eaten something that tasted like this. The honey was rich and golden, with a floral undertone that reminded me of summer, of flowers, and of warmth that had nothing to do with fire.

I’m tired of speculating. Is there honey, or not??

"Now hold still." "Why—" I drizzled honey over her chest. Sticky. Sweet. Coating her skin. "This is going to get messy," she breathed. "That's the idea." I leaned down. Licked. Following the trail of honey. Tasting it and her. Better than anything I'd ever tasted. My tongue circled her nipple through the lace. The honey making it stick. Making it cling. I sucked. Hard. She arched. Pushing into my mouth. "More?" I asked.

The sweetest most divine honey that we would drown pancakes or waffles in. I rip the blindfold off and kiss her again. "With how good you smelled, there’s a chance we won’t make it to the forest if you let me continue".

I had learned, through everything that had brought me to this study in Washington with the rose on the windowsill and Julian in the doorway and the baby four months along and the framework expanding and Adaeze's seven names in a notebook on the fourth floor of the federal building three blocks away, that the right pace was the right pace. And this one was exactly right. I closed the document. Julian was still in the doorway. "Dinner?" he said. "Yes," I said. "What did you get at the market this morning?" "The good bread," he said. "And the amber honey from the vendor on the east side." I looked at him. "You found an amber honey vendor," I said. "The rooftop hives are everywhere if you look,"

A little tired of bouncing, Heloise flapped a pair of arms and ran up and through the building and flew into the kitchen like a butterfly. "Ouch, miss, this kitchen isn’t the place for fun." Jane quickly stopped her, "Come on, come on, out with Jane, dear." "I want to gather honey! I want to harvest honey!" Heloise yelled, knocking her head towards the cooking bench as she struggled. Jane rushed to embrace her, Heloise's eyes flickered, and before Jane regained her senses, Heloise had smoothly dropped several pills into the water bottle. Nobody noticed what she had done.

Elowen needed medicine for her persistent cough, a shepherd had gashed his hand badly on a broken fence, and a little girl had been stung by three bees and insisted she was "definitely dying right now." "You'll survive," I assured her gently, applying a soothing paste. "I promise." "...Really? Are you sure?" she asked with wide eyes. "I'm very confident. I've seen much worse stings." She considered that carefully. "Can I still have honey on my bread even though the bees were mean?" I smiled. "I think that would make the bees feel victorious if you stopped eating honey." The little girl gasped dramatically. "We can't let them win! I'll eat extra honey."

a sweet, sweet tone like honey freshly taken from the hive. A hive, one that had practically no worker bees to defend it, one that did not bring any difficulty to that child... One who only willingly granted her honey. The sweet part of you... Stop thinking too much... "It’s good that you recognize this, I’m happy," one part of me said sincerely, and the other...the other one kept asking, questioning "what is it like?" I leaned on my hands, those hands that were restless before. "Ah..." her gaze was to the opposite of mine "how could I say? He has that air of mystery, one that gets to be...charming" bit his lip hard, as if trying to contain himself.

The air is thick with the sweet aroma of honey and milk, a harmonious blend that stirs desire and longing. Each breath fills me with a craving beyond the scent alone. It's like honey and milk hold the key to unspoken desires, tempting me to indulge in their warmth and sweetness, igniting a stirring within me. The scent speaks a silent language, conveying a deep understanding and wrapping me in a comforting familiarity. It whispers of intimacy, leaving behind promises I can't quite recall fulfilling. "Look at that!" Hunter's voice echoes in my mind, catching me off guard. "Leave it," I scold him internally, trying to resist the urge to look.

He lathed his tongue where his finger had traveled and absorbed her taste. "Honey, god...ahhh." He laughed huskily then growled against her quivering flesh. "I am the honey god, and you, my sweet goddess, taste like ambrosia." He didn't care that the words sounded corny and with another flick of his tongue, neither did she.