Burning Spice Cookie X Reader Novels & Stories

Yeah, today she’d need four of Spider’s most lethal espressos to get herself together, for sure. “Mornin’, Mirrie.” She turned, and with a great effort, pasted a fake smile on her face. “Hi Spider.” Liam ‘Spider’ Valance – her boss and good friend – stood at the counter carefully stacking fresh-baked cookies on the glass display tray. She stared at the white chocolate chip ones briefly, decided what the hell, wandered over. “Can I have one of those?” she asked hopefully.

It was scorching like a flame and if auras could be tasted, hers would definitely be bitter. I shuddered, walking over to the first aisle to check it out. The first book that caught my attention was Blood, Pawns and Obsession. It was a dark romance by Rylie Martin. I had one of my projects on hold because I wanted to read this book and get into the head of the psychotic male lead, so I would understand him better and be able to execute my plotline to my taste. The grin on my face unconsciously widened, and I brought the book to my nose, sniffing it in.

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My face burned, and love juices gushed out of me. “If you say so,” I said, even though I was now all hot and bothered. My core kept clenching repeatedly, and there was an ache that only Rowan could soothe. But the idea of having to wait until we get to our penthouse… the anticipation of what was to come… It kept me craving and looking forward to it. “Well then, let’s finish these cookies and then we can read the book,” Rowan said, grabbing a mug of the hot chocolate, which was now lukewarm and gave it to me.

God, she tasted like sin coated with deliciousness. “S-sir…” Her moans were broken as she started to move her hips, riding my tongue like she couldn't get enough, and fuck I loved it. I slid a finger in along with my tongue, teasing her g-spot and she cried out in pleasure as she arched her back.

I pull it off the rest, hiding it behind me. "It's okay, we don't mind if you read it," he says, expressionless, not looking up from his task. He seems to examine the spine of each book, looking for a certain title that belongs to the book he needs. I walk by his side, now noting the real similarities between Ray and Xavier; their almost identical looks except for the scar and hair. All this time, he hasn't acted like a grump, which is a plus, and also a side of him that is pleasantly new to me. He smiles as he pulls out the book we need, a dusty one that isn't thick at all. The side reads Summer Kitchen: 100 Delicious Recipes and the cover is completely blank. I squint at the thin cookbook,

The monster inside him roared, craving more, yet yielding to the unyielding heat of Eli's claim. Every touch, every whispered command, every fiery kiss was a strike of passion, a battle neither wanted to lose, but both needed to win. The air around them crackled, flames licking higher as they dove deeper into each other, a Hellfire set ablaze by desire, raw and untamed. Leo's growl mixed with Eli's breathless moans, a symphony of control and surrender that echoed into the night. No rules. No limits. Just the burning, insatiable hunger between two souls who refused to back down.

“What’s this?” “Trying to make those cookies and failing spectacularly.” I glanced at the tray of slightly charred discs. “They look… characterful.” She swatted my arm, laughing. “Be nice or you don’t get to taste-test.” I stole one anyway, bit into it. Burnt edges, but the center was soft, spiced just right. “Not bad for a first try.” “Liar.” But she leaned into me, content. We stood like that for a minute—her hip against mine, my arm around her waist.

"Can't hurt to try." I reluctantly stand aside to let her in, and Jasper, the traitor, perks up at the sight of the cookies—or maybe it's Stephanie. Doesn't matter because I can feel the wall between Jasper and me starting to crumble. I'm a sucker for chocolate chips, and, as it turns out, so is he Stephanie breezes past me, her scent a mixture of vanilla and something wild that pulls at the wolf inside. It's almost enough to make me forget my earlier determination to indulge in brooding.

From my seated position, the cookies are at perfect eye level, and against my better judgment, I pick one off the top of the pile. It's dark brown and brittle. A few pieces flick off as I lower the cookie closer to the small plate my cup of coffee sits on. Burnt doesn't begin to describe the abomination in my hand. It looks like she put the cookie through torture. "What kind are they?" I ask before bringing the cookie to my lips. "Chocolate chip." Tabitha grins, looking down at the plate. "They're a little burnt." A little burnt is an understatement. That's like saying the Titanic nudged an icicle.