Delicacy Novels & Stories

Settling back into the comfortable chair, he eagerly unwrapped the meal, revealing a culinary masterpiece. The dish, aptly named "Succulent Symphony," featured a canvas of tender, seared filet mignon adorned with a rich truffle sauce. Accompanying the main course were vibrant roasted vegetables, their colors a feast for the eyes, and a medley of aromatic herbs delicately seasoned the dish. The plating itself was a work of art, showcasing the chef's meticulous attention to detail.

Compared to times I take a shower this had to be the shortest seeing that I was only in for about fifteen minutes that is probably due to the fact that I was alone with a man I barely know not that I thought he would make a move or anything but it's better safe than sorry so with that thought in mind I led myself out the bathroom and into the kitchen where I debated for a minute or two on weather to open the fridge or not but got my answer the minute my stomach let out a loud growl. The fridge was fully packed with someone brands I never knew existed, deciding to go all out I made a couple of sandwiches to which I ate while making dinner which consisted of a Sunday roast with Yorkshire puddi

Fuzzy slippers completed the look: tragic heiress chic. I caught my reflection again and almost laughed. Almost. Downstairs, the dining room sparkled like nothing had happened. Crystal gleamed. Silver domes waited in perfect rows. I lifted one—poached eggs swimming in truffle oil, prosciutto curled like rose petals, berries so glossy they looked fake.

He leaned his elbow to watch Delilah's beautiful legs standing on tiptoe while eating Strawberries. "Lordes, why do you put the print so far inside? My hands are almost there, aaahh a bit more!" James's gaze grew wilder. His tongue had licked the corners of his lips a few times. Tired of taking and to no avail, Delilah straightened up and took a breath. "Lordes, why not just put the Strawberry down? I don't think that bad Mr. J will mind. What he knows about cake decorations are anyway," Delilah chirped more. Delilah began to suspect the creep over though she was still trying to reach the print.

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…