Chapter 8 Garrik
GARRIK
The kiss is still buzzing on my lips when I pull back, breathing hard.
I stare at her…just looking, memorizing. I’m terrified she’s going to tell me this was a mistake, but I’m certain she’s not drunk this time, and neither am I. No…this is real.
It’s happening.
“Iris,” I whisper, my hands gripping her hips as I try to stay gentle. “We don’t have to—”
“I know,” she interrupts. “But I want to. Please.”
I kiss her again.
It starts slow…if a little hungry, but I’m still afraid of hurting her. Iris is demanding, though, tilting her head to pull me in closer, deeper.
My tongue slides into her mouth and she moans around it.
Gods…
Iris melts into me, letting out little gasps against my lips, fingers threading into my hair. My hands roam over her back, desperate to slide beneath her oversized sweater, wanting, wanting…
She pulls away.
“Inside,” she breathes. “Now.”
I do as she commands, lifting her effortlessly, carrying her toward the cottage. She tastes like the sweetest honey, her scent enveloping me, and I don’t want to stop kissing her even as I stumble slightly, the two of us laughing against each other’s lips as I fumble for the door.
“Let me,” she whispers.
She somehow finds the knob behind us, then I’m pushing inside, the dark interior swallowing us up in the scent of woodsmoke and sugar. Lavender hangs drying from the ceiling, mingling with Iris’s sweetness, and I’m nearly overcome as I groan against her.
I can’t make it all the way to the bed…I need her naked now.
She gasps against my mouth as I lift her onto the big dining table in the middle of the cottage, the wood creaking beneath her.
I brace one hand beside her hip, the other sliding gently up the back of her thigh.
She’s all soft skin and shaky breaths, her legs parting instinctively as I step between them.
The kiss breaks, but I stay close—resting my forehead against hers.
“Still good?” I ask.
She nods, smiling, brown eyes sparkling. “So good.”
My hands skim her inner thighs, tracing patterns into her skin. She squirms, and I can’t help the way I groan quietly…because she’s already so warm, so ready, and I haven’t even gotten started. I can scent her nectar filling the room, panties soaked with arousal.
“I want to taste you,” I murmur. “May I?”
She nods again, breath catching. “Please.”
Gently, I nudge her backward so she’s lying against the table, her sweater hitched up around her waist. I groan in satisfaction at the sight of her wet panties, dark and glistening, drenched. I kneel to press a kiss to the curve of her hip, then another, then another, working my way down.
When I tug the fabric down and off, she shivers—and then she gasps when I drag my tongue along her inner thigh.
“You taste so much sweeter than I imagined,” I breathe. “The prettiest flower…”
“Did you imagine it a lot?”
I glance up to find her propped up on her elbows, watching me, and I smile. “More than you know.”
I grin and reach for one of the small vials on the edge of the table, filled with pale golden honey we harvested from the heliotropis grove earlier this week. It’s warm and heady, laced with natural aphrodisiac properties so mild they’re usually only used for relaxation.
I uncap it, dip my fingers in, then let a thin drizzle trail along the top of her thigh.
She shudders, gasping.
“Holy…what was that?!”
“Just honey,” I chuckle. “It will make you more…open. More sensitive.”
“I’m already sensitive,” she groans.
I laugh now. “Then I’ll be gentle.”
But before she can respond, I’m licking a long line up her pussy.
The taste of her mixed with the honey is unreal. She’s sweet and rich and responsive, one hand fisting the edge of the table, the other tangling in my hair. Her thighs shake, tremble, toes curling as she rests her feet on my shoulders.
“Garrik!”
“I’ve got you, Iris,” I groan.
I’m never letting you go, I think.
When I finally ease a thick finger inside her, she arches off the table with a soft cry.
“Too much?” I ask.
She shakes her head, brow furrowed. “No…no, it’s good. You’re just…big.”
“I’ll go slow,” I promise, pressing a kiss to her belly. “Want to make sure you’re ready. Want you to feel good.”
“I do,” she says, voice shaking. “I really do.”
I lick and suck, slow and steady, and she rocks her hips toward me as I add another thick finger.
The honey is working its magic, her pussy sucking on my fingers and telling me how much she wants more.
She keeps moving, keeps rocking her hips, her swollen clit getting all the attention while I thrust my fingers into her.
“You’re doing so good for me, Iris,” I murmur. “But I need to stretch you more before you can take me.”
“I can do it—”
“Let me take me time, honeybee.” I drag my mouth up to her hip bone, kissing it as I keep thrusting my fingers into her, locking eyes with her. “It’s already so hard not to fuck you senseless.”
She just groans, meeting my eyes. She’s panting now, her sweater rucked all the way up, hair spilling in wild golden curls across the table.
The honey shines where it drips down her skin—slick and fragrant and heady.
I swear I can feel it working its way through her system, softening ever muscle, making her pussy ache for more.
“Please, Garrik, I want you,” she whimpers, hips grinding helplessly. “I want…I need all of you.”
“Not tonight, honeybee,” I say. “You need time…practice.”
One more finger goes in, still not even close to my girth, and Iris arches. She cries out in helpless pleasure, her fingers slipping against the table’s smooth wood as she tries to brace herself. Her pussy clenches around my fingers and I groan, forehead dropping as I clutch her to me.
“Fuck, Iris—”
“Garrik…” Her chest heaves, sweater sliding fully off one shoulder to reveal her breast. I can’t resist craning my neck to snatch her nipple into my mouth, sucking hard as I thrust my fingers deep.
With my other hand, I catch her wrist and press it to her belly, and her eyes widen when she feels me from outside.
“You can feel how deep I am already,” I growl. “Just my fingers, and I’m so deep…and you’re taking me like you were made for me.”
“I need your cock—”
Gods, she is filthy. I shake my head, hooking my fingers inside her, thrusting as her nectar drips down my arm. “If I took you now, you’d break.”
“I want to break,” she whines, nearly feral. “I want you to fuck me, please—”
“You will,” I promise. “When your body’s ready. Not until then. Now…let’s get started. Come for me, Iris.”
And that’s what does it.
She comes around my fingers, clenching over and over, her body falling back against the table as she writhes. I let her feel how she’ll take it, how much it will hurt when I’m inside her and she’s clenching like that…but she likes it.
Maybe she really was made for me.
I slide my fingers out slowly, watching the way her pussy pulses around nothing, still desperate for me.
“Don’t worry, honeybee,” I murmur, and then I lower my mouth again, slow and deep and thorough.
She screams.
I latch onto her clit, sucking gently, tongue flicking in time with the slow slide of one honey-slicked finger—and she goes off, legs clamping around my head as she tries to grind against my mouth. Her whole body arches, trembling with sensation, every breath catching on the edge of a moan.
“That’s it,” I whisper when she finally falls back, spent. “You’re doing so good for me.”
Iris is panting like she’s just run for miles. Her thighs are trembling, cheeks flushed to the tips of her ears, and the look in her eyes—gods—it’s devotion. It’s hunger. It’s awe.
“Garrik…” she whispers. “That was—”
I kiss her inner thigh, trailing up toward her hip. “Not done yet.”
Her eyes widen.
I reach for the honey again.
“I’m going to make you come on my tongue at least twice more,” I say, watching her pupils dilate, “and then I’m going to fuck your thighs and let you feel how hard I am for you.
Her mouth opens, but nothing comes out. She’s already too gone—honey-drunk, aching, open and pliant beneath me.
I trail my fingers down her ribs, over the swell of her hip, and then back between her thighs.
She flinches at the touch—still oversensitive, twitching from her last orgasm—but she doesn’t stop me.
If anything, her hips lift, seeking more.
“Shhh,” I murmur, kissing the inside of her knee. “Let me take care of you, Iris.”
I drag a thick stripe up her slit, slow and steady, letting my tongue gather every trace of her. I swirl it around her clit, then suck—light and rhythmic, just enough to make her thighs jerk again.
“Garrik—oh gods—” She keens, her voice dissolving into a breathy whimper.
“I’ve got you,” I growl against her, and I do. I’ve got her completely.
I slide one slick finger back inside her, curling it just right, and this time I add a second before she can even ask.
She’s soaked—ruined for anyone else—and I mean to keep her that way.
Her walls flutter around me, struggling to take both, and I feel her breath catch as her back bows off the table again.
“That’s it, honeybee,” I murmur. “You’re opening up for me.”
The honey is still working its magic, loosening every tight edge, and I can feel her body responding—greedy for pressure, greedy for depth.
She’s grinding now, hips chasing my fingers, my tongue, everything I give her.
I suck harder, faster, and her hands scrabble across the wood until one finds my hair and clutches tight.
“Fuck—I’m—Garrik—”
Her second orgasm crashes into her like a wave, shaking her to pieces.
She sobs my name, hips bucking, legs trembling.
Her thighs squeeze my head tight, and I let them.
I want her to hold me there. Want her to feel overwhelmed, overcome, adored.
My cock is aching for her, painfully hard, but she needs this first.
I would pleasure her forever if she let me.
She sags back down when it’s over, barely able to lift her head. “You’re insane,” she pants. “I’m…I can’t even see straight—”
“Good,” I rumble, licking her clean with one last reverent swipe. “Now one more.”
Her eyes go wide. “I can’t—there’s no way—”
“You said please not five minutes ago,” I tease. “Don’t tell me you’re tapping out already.”
She glares at me, but it’s weak…flushed and dazed and delicious. “You’re the worst.”
“You love it.”
She groans in exasperation. “Fine. But if I die, you have to explain it to my archivist supervisor.”
“I’ll start with ‘death by excessive orgasm,’” I say, grinning, and she laughs—ragged and delighted, the kind of laugh that makes me feel like I could live off it forever.
I press soft kisses along her thighs, giving her a moment to breathe, and then I slide my fingers back inside her. She whimpers but doesn’t stop me. Her body welcomes me now, slick and hot and open, the walls of her pussy fluttering as I curl my fingers just right.
This time I use my mouth and fingers in perfect rhythm—slow, deep, precise. I take my time, teasing her higher and higher, letting her fall apart over and over without tipping her all the way over the edge…until she’s panting, begging, grinding against my mouth like she’s starving for it.
“Garrik, please,” she sobs. “Please let me—”
I hum against her clit and press just right inside her, and she shatters.
She comes with a cry, full-body and desperate, her hands yanking at my hair, her thighs convulsing as I hold her through it. She moans and moans, riding the wave all the way through, until she’s a puddle of molten girl on my table.
When she finally sags back, too spent to speak, I lift my head and kiss the inside of her knee.
“There we go,” I murmur. “My sweet, perfect honeybee.”
Her hand twitches. I take it gently, cradling it to my mouth.
“I’m going to take you to bed now,” I whisper. “We’ll sleep for a few hours. And in the morning…”
I lean closer, brushing her hair back from her face as I press a kiss to her cheek, then her temple, then the corner of her mouth.
“In the morning, I’m going to stretch you again. And then I’m going to fuck you.”
She makes a broken little sound and melts into my chest.
I lift her carefully off the table, cradling her against me as I carry her to bed.
She belongs here.
And so do I.