Delicacy の小説・ストーリー

“It’ll be a feast!” The sight of her father bustling around the kitchen, teasing her mother and reminiscing about their shared memories, drew a smile from Delia. She realized that laughter—their laughter—had been absent from her life for too long. As they sat down for dinner, Delia looked around the table at her parents, the ambiance filled with joy and mutual support. Her mother served their favorite dishes: creamy pasta, roasted vegetables, and a salad filled with vibrant colors. The comfort food offered more than just nourishment; it was a gateway to a time when she felt safe and loved.

During dessert, Leo caught her looking and got a smug grin as they worked on their chocolate souffles. “I did pretty well if I do say so myself. I picked it up all by my lonesome too. The pushy jeweler kept trying to entice me to buy some gawdy monstrosity. But there is a beauty and elegance in its simplicity.” Amber giggled in between a forced bite of her dessert. She felt as though she would burst now, though not from happiness. The scallops, ravioli, cod, and deer meat sat heavily in her bloated paunch. But here in France, leaving food on a plate was seen in bad taste. And leaving chocolate behind was like a cardinal sin in her books.

She declared solemnly, “She requests a dish… ah yes, the ‘Honeyed Moon Delight.’” The Master blinked, repeating it slowly, “Honeyed… Moon Delight?” “Exactly,” Elia said with a serious nod. He frowned, muttering, “Honey Moon Delight… Never heard of such a thing, but wait here, I’ll check the recipe shelf.” As he turned his back, Anana watching from the window had to bite her knuckles to stop her laughter as Elia fought to keep a straight face. The moment the Master disappeared behind a pantry door, Elia darted forward, snatched a steaming loaf from the counter, and slipped it under her cloak. She looked up at the window, eyes gleaming in triumph, and mouthed, “Told you I could do it.”

Collins cut in, his eyes fixed on his meal, “I'd do that for my wife if it makes her happy.” My wife, my wife, my wife. Tammie couldn't understand why that word alone made her heart tingle. She bit her lower lips, “Mr Blackwood, you're something.” Her eyes were fixed on him now, scrutinizing all the minute details. The way he held his spoon, his posture, and the way his jaw moved. “God, I'm so drunk.” she blurted out, her heart beating erratically. She couldn't stop staring, appreciating the Greek god sitting a few meters away.

Lucien Delano had seated his wife to his left and his daughter, Ria, sat on his right. Proserpina was eating the dessert very delicately and he felt his groin tighten with desire as he looked at her soft, full and moist lips. With an effort, he shifted his attention to the dessert, again, an Indian one, Ras malai accompanied by tiny golden, crisp, sugary circles that had been deep-fried, and which were called Jalebis. “Out of this world,’ sighed Melissa appreciatively smacking her lips. The Don sighed. He had had too much; now he needed to get O’Connor into his study and talk business.

The high front slit on her dress exposed her smooth and soft legs, making his jaw drop. “Sir?” Val called out gently. That's when Adam realized that his lips were parted. He closed them and then swallowed. “You look really beautiful.” He complimented her with a lewd grin. Val flashed him a smile. “Thank you,” she murmured, sitting down. Then Adam walked over and took a seat too. Foie gras, caviar, lobster, wild striped bass, and a lot of other different delicacies were set on the table. “If there's anything more you need, just let me know,” Adam offered, trying really hard to please her.

Due to the intense hunger after a long night, she piled her plate high with a generous portion of bread, eggs, and sausage. Delcy, sitting across from them in a striking purple silk gown, let out a small snort. “Goodness, I didn’t know our new Luna etiquette standards included eating like a wolf that hasn’t seen food in a decade.” Seara continued chewing her bread calmly. She merely glanced at Delcy briefly before refocusing on her plate. In her eyes, Delcy was nothing more than a chatty parakeet who only knew how to primp. “Maybe out in the forest they weren’t taught how to hold a fork properly,” Delcy sneered again, this time louder so Elder Stroud could hear.

••••🍀RACHEL🍀 |Manhattan,New York|Collins Manor|:|A Month Later|:“You haven’t eaten from your plate, my love. Do you want to have something else?” Father asked.We were having breakfast in the gazebo of the central garden that circumnavigated the paths that led to other peculiar gardens.My father lived a lavished lifestyle. Everything was to his disposal, he could afford anything he ever wanted due to his purchasing power. Unlike the satisfaction that wealth brought, it can never be substituted for happiness. I sighed, cutting into the Confit De Canard(Duck Confit) with aid of my cutleries. A French dish comprising of duck meat, salted and boiled in oil and then preserved in a cool place.It

Immobile. “Sounds like you couldn’t find an easy female, so you had to buy one,” she giggled. Gods, her laughter was sweet music to my ears. “That’s kind of pathetic. Don’t you think?” She reached up on her tip-e-toes and bit my bottom lip. She tugged. One of her fangs sliced through my lips. The pain was brief and heavenly. “Woman,” I growled at her. “Ansley the Devourer of Souls.” Her lips curled into a devious smile, and utter wickedness washed over her delicate features.

Do it better and with more enthusiasm. "Delicious," he repeats. "Repeat", because the truth is that it has a terrible pronunciation of Italian. " Delicious ," I repeat. —Delizioza. —Your pronunciation is making me want to fuck you—it's not true, really. It only makes me harder. I slow down my pelvic movements, seeing how something of me enters and leaves her is incredible for my knowledge. It sounds ridiculous, and it is, because I've never thought of that with another woman. It's not like I've been with many, but this, with Aria, is…