The Dangerous Taste of Honey

For years I walked alone. Down the dark streets of neighborhoods that have fallen. Homes that once stood tall with lush green lawns and flowerbeds overflowing with colors. No longer are the insects that live from their nectar. Now they stand sullen and gray, even on the brightest of summer days.

Quite often now, I am not alone. I walk with her. The woman who comes in the night. She wanders with me, lost and wanton. We search for a dark which can only be discovered in the long hours of the night.

The witching hour.

“Do you trust me?” she asks.

“I trust you entirely, with all of my heart. I trust you with my life.”

Her lips curl to a smile. She bites her bottom lip sensually, awaking a warmth from inside her. I inhale her scent, it reminds me of fire. Her curves in the dark, the sound of her breathing. I welcome the warmth within me as well.

“Would you love me?” she questions.

“I would.”

“Would you forget me in the light but hold me in the dark?” her eyes pierce through mine. I am lost within them. A sea of madness harnessed in the undulating waves of serenity.

“Of course.”

“Would you touch your lips to mine?”

“I want nothing more.”

She moves closer still, the heat radiates through my bones. I feel her like a flame, embers of a dying afternoon sky.

“Touch me.”

I pull her to me. I explore the silk of her dress on the small of her naked back. Skin so white, so smooth. My finger traces the small protruding bumps of her spine. She presses herself against me still.

“Would you love me?”

“With all I can ever offer.”

Her smile penetrates through me, I am just a man and she is my goddess.

“Would you taste me?”

Her eyes whisper the hint of her inquiry. Her hand captures mine, pulling it down as she helps me to lift the dress from her legs. I feel under her thigh, the muscles tighten and release as she lifts it more, wrapping it against mine.

“Taste me.”

I move my hand slowly. Her breath is warm and hot in my face, she will not look away from my eyes, as I dare not look away from hers. I enjoy the soft fever of her the more I move my hand closer to where we both want it to be. I can feel the sensation of a pulse moving through her body. The heat that continues to fire the more my hands glide further.

“Yes,” she moans.

My fingers touch her. So smooth, so open. She grinds herself against me as my fingers dance in her.

She finally releases her gaze and moves her mouth to my ear. Her breath on it causes a flutter up my back causing my eyes to close and dream.

“Taste my honey,” she whispers.

I move my way down her neck, past her flat belly. The silk feels cool but below this, under the black silk dress that clings to her, there is a radiant fire burning. I can smell her now. Her hands guide me to it. My tongue gently touches her, she welcomes the heat of my breath as she pushes against my mouth.

“Taste me now.”

She uses her fingers as my mouth moves along, tongue massaging her as I enjoy her flavor. She senses the love I have for her and places her fingers inside my mouth and then back inside her. I remove her hand and place both of her legs across my shoulders and lean her back against the old oak tree where we began. There are no lights, only stars, and the shine of the full moon.

“How do I taste?”

I gaze up at her eyes from below. A small furrow of her brow, nervous of my response. “Like honey,” I reply.

Her body trembles as she releases herself, her climax only a moment later. I remain. I will not move until I have had my share of her. In this precious moment, I am her life, I am her love. I am her wish granted.

My purpose is her lucid wish fulfilled, and just like that, she is gone again. I am alone as morning arrives.

My only hope is she comes again, at night, in the dark — where we are one.

Oh, how I hate the dawn of a new day when all I can detect is the distant scent of fire and the familiar taste of honey on my lips.