Vivacious Honey Novels & Stories

I try to raise my head as he slithers in. "There's my girl. Can you speak, or are you purposely ignoring me?" His eyes squint, with his father's demonic glare and I try my voice to show him. "I'll soothe that for you. I think the broth, some water, and some honey might help. A hot toddy perhaps? I was a bar tender for a bit. Mixed plenty of drinks." He sits me up into his arms and unties me. One swift movement he lifts me and takes me down into the kitchen. There, he has pulled up a dusty recliner to the table, and he sits me onto it.

It wraps around my wrist, a golden bracelet of liquid sugar. I bring my wrist to my mouth. I lick it. The taste explodes in my brain. But it’s not just sweet. It’s data. Glucose. Fructose. Water content: 17%. Floral source: Clover. I see the molecular structure of the sugar dissolving on my tongue. It is a symphony of chemistry. "Taste it," I say to Alex. He leans in. He licks the honey from my skin. His tongue is rough, warm, biological.

She was trembling constantly now, thighs shaking, voice gone hoarse from begging. “Please—please just let me—” “Not yet.” He reached for the honey. This time he didn’t drizzle. He poured it straight from the jar in a thick, amber stream directly over her clit and watched it slide down in slow, viscous ribbons. The honey was warmer than the chocolate, thicker, clinging to every fold. When he finally touched her again it was with the pad of his thumb—pressing the honey into her clit in slow, firm circles while two fingers slid back inside, fucking through the sticky sweetness.

I said before spreading her more apart and almost looking into her insides. I trailed a finger up her left thigh and saw her dripping more. A puddle was already gathering at her core, and I decided to do something. I picked up the honey bottle and opened it, watching her eyes grow wide in a mixture of fear and appreciation. "Would you like me to eat you up with this honey.” I inquired and she bobbed her head. I decided to teach her a lesson. "Please yourself, Hannah."

"Well, with the authority I have as your king, I order you to sit and dine with us tonight." I felt my heart weaken and the urge to leave dropped right away. At this point, I had no choice but to turn back and join them in whatever they were celebrating. Hazel placed another wide tray on the table and began to dish out more food—very mouth-watering dishes. First, she brought out Honey Fire Lamb. It's a soft brown meat, covered with wild honey and green herbs. She carefully placed it on a black clay plate, allowing the rich and sweet smell to fill our nose.

She was, however, fond of her hazel eyes, she thought most of the time it was her only saving grace in the looks department. She rolled her eyes at the beer pong partners and made her way through the house, Suzie at her side loudly greeting everyone she'd ever talked to it seemed. Violet made her presence known on the low key with basic hand waves and subtle heads nods here and there to the few people she cared to greet as she searched out the alcohol. The first keg was in the corner of the living room to the left of the entryway. She quickly chugged a red solo cup of beer, light beer she was sure of it, and immediately went for another cup, she would need her liqiud courage if she had an

They wrestled near the door with such sizzling and sensuality while their clothes were still on. “You’re so hot, honey,” she remarked. Honey. That was the second time she called him honey. Cyrill doesn’t know whether Rozelyn leaving him all alone to visit Vesta is a good thing or a bad thing. He somehow wished Roz was here to help him with ‘knocking girls down’. He certainly knew that Vesta would never call him honey. For her, honey is a sweet treat and must not be used as a nickname for a person. So something is certainly off about Vesta—that is if it was really Vesta manifesting in front of him.

Yet she stood up laboriously as Mary and Zerden approached her stall. “Good day,” she said. “Good day,” Mary replied. “We’d need a kilo of honey if missus has it.” “I have honey, all right,” said the woman, taking out a large glass jar containing golden honey. “It costs 1 kresi and 5 vorm,”, she said as she put the jar on the table. “That is a good price for such beautiful honey,” Mary said. When Zerden started to tack take out the money, Mary whispered something in his ear. He looked at her questioningly, but she looked sternly back. He shrugged his shoulders and gave the money to the woman.

His fingers pushed my panties aside, stroking my still-sore folds gently. I moaned into his mouth, legs parting wider despite the ache. “Asher…” I gasped. “Shhh, let me take care of you.” He reached for a bottle of honey from the gift basket Maria had left on the counter, part of the welcome setup. With a wicked grin, he drizzled the golden liquid over my chest, watching it trail down between my breasts and lower, over my stomach to my pussy. The sticky sweetness made me gasp at the contrast with the cool air.

"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."