Page 44 of Blood Sweeter than Honey

He stops only a foot or so away from where my hips are, hesitating for several moments as he sets his clothes down at the foot of the bed. I’m exposed from the hips down. Earlier, I hadn’t been able to fall back asleep until I did something to cure the needy ache between my legs by pleasuring myself to fantasies of him, but my body seems to have already forgotten.

Finally, after several moments of deliberating, Gideon tugs the waistband of his pajama pants down until the long, thick, veiny length of him is liberated.

Akash-fucking-almighty, this man could demolish buildings with that thing.

Even with his huge hand, his fingertips barely touch when he wraps it around his cock to spread the leaking seed over his crown.

I’m trying so hard to hold still, to not let my hips wiggle in search of his touch. I nearly gasp as Gideon spits into his palm and begins to administer languid strokes up and down his formidable length. Indecision wars within me.

Should I let him know that I’m awake?

That I want him?

My logical mind kicks in, calculating the various outcomes that could come from me welcoming him into his bed right now.

Memories resurface in my mind’s eye—all of which were thoroughly underwhelming: fleeting relationships, zero loyalty, and even less emotional depth…

Intuition tells me any sexual encounter with Gideon would be everything I’ve ever dreamed of, but the fact of the matter is that I still barely know him. I want what I have with him to mean something. That tether-like tug aches in my chest as though demanding I fulfill our bond—if that is indeed what it is. Even if he is mysoulbound,I don’t want us to be strangers when we’re intimate. I want more than that.

Still, I only have so much restraint.

So I shall meet myself in the middle and allow myself to enjoy the sight of Gideon stroking himself to completion to my ‘unconscious’, nude form.

Naughty boy. I’ll get you back for this.

GIDEON

Goddamn it, she’s so beautiful.As if she can hear my thoughts and wishes to lure me forward, she gives a needy little sound and her hips give a tiny hitch forward as her pretty pink pussy winks at me.

It’s so perfect.

A shaft of pale moonlight shines from the window directly onto the bare, slightly puffy lips of her cunt. The pink folds within are barely visible, with the exception of the petite, glistening slit of her entrance.

The tight, puckered ring of her luscious ass is visible from between her cheeks, thanks to her leg being hitched so high up.

Fuck what I wouldn’t give to kneel beneath her.

My eyes lift to her face, and for a fraction of a second, I swear I see those flowers in her hair again. Right beside a petite set of horns. The hand stroking my cock stills as I squeeze my eyes shut, but the image doesn’t return, and it’s way too dark to chalk it up to anything more than the dark playing tricks on my eyes. I’m way too aroused to give it any more thought, and my stroking hastens as my heart pounds.

This woman could have horns, wings, and a fucking tail, and I’d want her just as badly.

Winnow’s hips give another small thrust as she exhales a soft sigh, slowing my movements.

What would she do if she woke up?

What I’m doing, by most standards, is wrong. But with each passing moment that this woman remains in my house, this feeling settles deeper in my chest. The one that tells me she didn’t end up here by coincidence. That somehow, some way, a god that I never put much stock in led us to one another. And it gives me an increasingly irrepressible urge—one that never in my life have I felt toward another woman—that demands I mark her as mine.

Scarred as I may be, I know I’m not a bad-lookin’ man. I’ve had my fair share of women approach me in the last five years. And none of them have interested me.

Yet, since the moment I laid eyes on Winnow, it’s like everyone and everything that came before her has been rapidly dissipating until all that’s left is her, and some primal beast I never knew was there is confirming that this woman is indeed mine.

I don’t care how crazy this woman is or isn’t; I know I won’t find this connection in anyone but her. She and I belong to one another, and I’m going to hold onto her with both fucking hands.

The sound of a soft, barely-there snore emboldens me to sidle closer to her, but then her hips give a little wiggle again, beckoning me, making me wonder…

Are you awake, sweetheart? You need me to take care of you, but you’re too shy to tell me?

She lets out another gentle, needy sound that makes my fucking balls ache. My eyes return to the sight of her cunt, quite literally dripping with need, and it’s the last little shove toward her I need.

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