Chapter 20
TWENTY
Honey
My head feels fluffy when I wake, like someone stuffed too much cotton wool inside. My mouth is dry, and when I roll over I find a jug of water and a cup on the nightstand that I don’t remember putting there. I fill the cup and drink it all before refilling it and drinking another.
Wow. Guess I was thirsty.
When I go to sit up, I discover something else. I’m sore between my legs and stiff like I’ve worked out, though it’s been ages since I went to the gym.
My memories of last night are strangely tangled with my vivid dreams. Vivid, sexy dreams.
I press my legs together around a delicious sensation as I remember imagining Gryff holding me, spreading me wide, driving into me.
Oh god, did we?
But when I look around the room, Gryff isn’t here. The bed is empty, and I hear his soft snores from the living room. I guess it was just a dream. I hope it doesn’t fade as the day goes on, though. This is one dream I want to hang onto.
I get out my wand and give myself one quick and furtive orgasm because I know I should. I feel strangely sated, though, and I give up after one and tuck the wand away into my bag.
When I creep into the kitchen and living area, Gryff is still asleep on the couch, one arm flung up over his head and his expression unusually peaceful.
The harsh lines around his eyes are gone, and the way his lips are parted in sleep makes me realize just how full and sensual they are.
I wonder what it would be like to kiss him.
In my dream it was amazing. I lift my fingers to my own mouth, remembering.
I shouldn’t be thinking about that, of course.
Being around Gryff… thinking about Gryff only serves to rile me up, and that’s a dangerous thing for me to do.
It just feels so safe to let my mind wander with him.
I can let myself desire someone because I know it won’t have any negative repercussions.
I stand there watching him for another few moments, wondering what it would feel like to trail my fingertips across the stubble of his chin, then I turn away with a quiet shake of my head. I sneak quietly out the back door, shutting it behind me.
I can’t shower at home. The water is still off.
But I can get changed, and I’ll wait until after I do the yard work to shower anyway.
It’s already hot out, so I tie my hair into a ponytail high on my head then pull on my bikini and some old denim shorts.
I find my earbuds and hit shuffle on my ’90s and 2000s playlist. Then I select a pair of sturdy boots I left here stashed up high in a closet and head out to Dad’s shed to find the tools I need.
For some reason it feels like a violation to take Gryff’s.
Gryff’s yard is overgrown. I don’t want to mow the lawn yet because that will make too much noise.
I don’t want to wake him. He looked like he could use the sleep in.
I’m surprised to check the time and find it’s much later than I’d normally get up.
In theory that means I got nearly twelve hours of sleep, but I don’t feel like a girl who’s had twelve hours. I feel fuzzy around the edges.
Focusing on the task I’ve set myself, I select some gloves, gardening shears and clippers, and an old bag I can use to collect cuttings in, then I push my way through the long grass to the overgrown plants at the back of his yard.
There’s a beautiful big tree which towers over the small house.
Even if I wanted to, I couldn’t do anything with the tree. It’s far too tall.
But beneath it is a tangle of weeds and smaller plants that hang out over the grass. That will make a good starting point.
The sun is warm on my skin as I bend to pull at the weeds, and soon my bag is full and I’m singing along to Brittney Spears and Christina Aguilera.
I bend over to yank out a particularly stubborn weed, but it won’t come.
With a huff of frustration, I get onto my hands and knees so I can get a better look.
I might have to go get out a trowel so I can get some purchase under it.
Bent over like this a phantom memory of last night assaults me suddenly, and for a moment I’m face down on Gryff’s bed while firm hands clutch my hips and his pelvis slams into mine over and over as he fucks me from behind.
Oh shit.
My belly tightens, and all my lower muscles clench. A wave of pure need makes me suck in a sharp breath and arch my back.
What is going on? I already came this morning, and a few minutes ago I was feeling great. I knew I should have masturbated for longer, only I was worried about Gryff hearing me. Why does my imagination suddenly feel about a hundred times more vivid than usual?
I glance back at the house from over my shoulder. As far as I know he’s still inside, and here in the long grass I’m completely hidden from the street.
Silently I unbutton the front of my shorts and slip my hand inside. My clit is so sensitive I moan as soon as my fingertips graze the top and slide between lips so slick I’m surprised I haven’t made a wet patch on my shorts. Lucky I’m wearing a bikini, I guess.
I flush as I slide my hand further, gathering the wetness, spreading it around my clit in delicious slow circles.
I have to press my lips together to stop myself from making more noise. It feels so good my legs are trembling, and I can tell I’m not far off.
A door slams behind me, and I whip my hand out of my shorts so fast I almost topple over onto my side.
“Honey!” Gryff’s voice is rough with sleep, and he sounds almost frightened.
I jump to my feet, forgetting all about buttoning up my shorts. “I’m here! I was just—”
He turns toward me and fixes me with a fierce look. His eyes flash amber in the sunlight, and my whole body heats up like popcorn on the stove about to burst.
I freeze. All of a sudden some ancient instinct whirrs to life inside my brain. I’m caught in his sights and everything about his sudden still screams predator.
My mouth drops open, and I forget to finish my sentence. All I can think about is the rasp of stubble against my oversensitive pussy and the way his hands felt on me in my dream.
He stalks toward me, and I’m caught in his gaze as if I’m trapped. “Why are you out here?”
He looks so angry. I mean that is his normal look, but after having seen him relaxed in sleep, it’s a stark contrast.
I lift my hands in a gesture of surrender. “Nothing.”
My heart pounds as he strides closer, eating up the space between us until he’s standing so close I have to lift my chin to look up at him.
“What are you doing?”
“I thought I’d help out in the yard.”
His gaze roves over me, taking in my flushed cheeks, my bikini—which I’m having regrets about since he looks like he’s personally offended by the shade of blushing pink. Then it drops lower and I remember my shorts are half undone.
Gryff’s eyes narrow. His nostrils flare, and he reaches out and snatches my right hand.
The hand that was just down my shorts.
He brings it to his face, and I watch like I’m caught in a sudden deluge of sticky treacle; sweetness blooming between my thighs as he lowers his head and draws in a deep breath.
Then his gaze snaps back up to pin me to the spot. “Help out with what? Bringing the whole street running here? Do you want me to have to fight every alpha from here to Main Street?”
“I—fight? No! I just needed to—”
His grip on my wrist tightens. It doesn’t hurt, but it sends a thrill racing from my toes all the way to the root of my long ponytail. “I know what you need, Honey. I spent the better part of last night taking care of it. What made you think I’m done?”
My mouth drops open. Then it wasn’t a dream!
Oh my god, those things were real? A flash of memories overtakes me and damp seeps through my shorts to wet my thighs.
All the brown in Gryff’s eyes disappears and they flash a bright, iridescent orange as a low growl rumbles from his chest. “I’m not about to stop. You’re still in heat, and that little ache between your thighs is only going to get worse until you take my knot again.”
My knees almost give out beneath me. God he’s so right about the ache. It’s back and it’s fierce and suddenly all I can think about is his big hard cock filling me up. That thick bulge at the base swelling until I can’t breathe past the pleasure of it.
A very, very undignified sound rises up and escapes me before I can stop it.
Gryff walks me back until I’m pressed up against the trunk of the large tree, the rough bark somehow perfect against my overheated skin.
I moan as he leans in to lift both hands above my head and the hard bulge of him nudges my belly.
“I’m not done, Honey. I’m going to be the only one satisfying every need of yours until the heat has passed. Understand?”
I nod meekly, all the words catching in my throat at the intense look on his face.
His chin dips and his mouth lowers to within an inch of mine, and then I feel it.
My lips part, my breath rasps on my next inhale, and there’s a crackle of energy in that intake of breath, a spark, a flame—desire. I taste it.
It tastes like the first effervescence of lemonade hitting your tongue on a summer day, the first drugging bite of a piece of chocolate, rich and morish. It tastes a hundred times better than anyone’s desire I’ve ever tasted because it’s his.
And then it’s gone.
My knees quake, and my body coils as I prepare for the rush of energy that comes when I feed on someone, dreading and longing for it at the same time, and then it snuffs out.
Gryff snaps his eyes closed, breathing heavily for a moment, and if he weren’t holding me up by my wrists I know I’d fall in a heap.
Then he bends and scoops me up with a growl, tossing me over his shoulder. “Get back in the house, omega.”