Page 51 of Blood Sweeter than Honey

As has my sex drive.

Nearly every time I go to the bathroom, I have to jerk off just to take the edge off. Each time I do, my fantasies of her become increasingly desperate: Winnow tied up just for me in every which way, spanking her with hand and paddle until she’s trembling for me and ready to squirt around my cock, filling each and every pretty little pink hole of hers with every drop of my cum…

And on top of that, the sheer volume of fluid my balls have been producing is borderline cause for concern.

It’s honestly a wonder I’m not suffering from dehydration.

There have been a number of otherunusualdevelopments that I can’t help but notice, such as the fact that my strength and reflexes seem to have increased manyfold.

Even today, when I had to flank our calves—sweet little 500 to 600-pound

babies—so Gertie could vaccinate them, what is normally a grueling,

muscle-burning task of driving them to the ground and flipping them onto their sides

felt like light work.

Gertie, Levi, and Beau had all watched with raised, stunned brows as I performed the feat with swift ease.

Entering the house,my heart thuds with excitement and anticipation, like when you ascend the peak of a rollercoaster and are about to reach the precipice of that thrilling plummet.

The moment Trigger and I round the corner, we find Winnow, dressed in nothing but my baggy t-shirt and boxers, bent over on all fours and scrubbing my floorboards.

To see this woman, glistening with sweat and cleaning my house with a smile on her face, makes my heart feel all kinds of twisty, turny, achy, fluttery things.

Maybe it’s the fact that my love language is acts of service, and every chance Winnow gets, she finds a way to show her appreciation for me.

Maybe it’s that she’s taking care of my house like it’s her own. Like she knows she belongs here.

Maybe it’s that gorgeous smile and sheer joy lighting up her face at the sight of me and Trigger.

Maybe it’s that she makes me feel like we’re teammates supporting one another.

Maybe it’s all of the above.

And maybe it also has a little something to do with the sight of her down on her hands and knees, in a position that I’ve visualized in my mind over a dozen times as I fucked my fist in the shower.

Because good-god-all-fucking-mighty.

However, her cleaning my house, I pray to God, isn’t something she’s doing because she feels obligated. Though if the mega-watt smile splitting her heart-shaped face is anything to go by, it would seem she’s doing it for all the reasons I hope.

I can’t help the heavy-lidded gaze I give her as I lean in the kitchen doorway, folding my arms across my chest because otherwise, I just might not be able to hold myself back from fucking her right where she is on the floor.

Winnow’s cheeks flush as she sits back on her heels, wiping the back of her hand across her perspiring face, framed by loose tendrils of that rosy-blonde hair. My eyes choose that moment to play tricks on me again, giving me a flickering glimpse of those petite horns, and flowers in her hair.

And now a tail.

That’s new.

But then I blink and they’re gone, making me wonder if I really am just hallucinating. Her soft, melodic voice returns my attention right back to where it belongs.

“I wanted to do something more to show you my appreciation than just making you the same damn sandwich every day.”

The termswoonmay normally be reserved for the way a man can make a woman feel, but lord almighty…

This woman has swooned the fuck outta me.

I gradually follow as Trigger trots over to shower her with affection that she eagerly returns—and I feel another tug of the invisible rope she seems to have lassoed me with drawing me closer.

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