Overview

Nestled between ancient apple trees and humming hives, Larkmere Apiary hides the sweetest secret in the valley: a basilisk who trades petrifying glances for honey-slick worship. Odessa Larkmere has spent years earning the trust of the magnificent Mabel Fernspire. First with smoke and song, then with custom-forged veils that let molten-gold eyes roam freely over bare skin without turning it to stone. What began as cautious harvest rituals has blossomed into moonlit trysts dripping with honey, pollen-dusted poetry, and the slow, deliberate uncoiling of centuries of loneliness. Under flickering beeswax candles, scales slide against freckled thighs, forked tongues trace sticky trails, and every moan tastes like summer. A mischievous satyr and a sharp-tongued harpy circle the pair like eager bees to nectar. Sometimes helping, sometimes stealing kisses, always adding to the warm, giggling chaos of desire. This is cozy monster erotica at its most indulgent: low-stakes, high-heat, and sweet enough to leave you licking your fingers long after the last page.

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