Spicyyyy Novels & Stories

I shouted, looking at him intently. "Ms. Kim Ahri Gaumond, I'm not making fun of you. You know what it is," he replied bluntly.

"Gigi marked those for her and me!" "Wuss!" Tyce called out, chuckling. "There is no fucking way you can handle those things!" Kyle retorted. "Already did." Tyce went back over and popped another in his mouth. "Who else wants to challenge me?" He beat his chest with his fists. "Oh, Goddess. I've tried Paige and Gigi's spicy food before. I definitely can't handle it!" Jasmine laughed. "Tyce, I'm really impressed." "Okay, no more spicy eggs. The last two are for me!" Paige took them and put them on a plate for herself. "I better eat them before we get in trouble for poisoning everyone."

The restaurant Catherine Hart chose was the kind of place where a salad cost fifty dollars and the waiters looked at you like they were doing you a favor by serving food. Maya sat across from her future mother-in-law, watching the older woman cut her salmon into precise, identical pieces. Everything about Catherine was controlled—her platinum blonde hair pulled back so tight it probably gave her headaches, her designer dress that cost more than most people's monthly rent, her smile that never quite reached her cold blue eyes.

She claimed the farthest corner seat, dropping her six-figure bag careless on the plastic chair beside. "Spicy kick?" The lady checked. "Load it up," Sophia grinned. "I'm a spice fiend." "You got it!" The woman hollered back cheery. Sophia had craved heat since kid days, but skin-care strict these years kept her from the heavy stuff. Roadside joint like this? Time to drown the hurt in fire. The lady hustled over a plate piled with chili-dusted wings. "My own blend—secret recipe. One taste, and they're hooked."

“You were mine, Piper. You still are. Do you really think you’ll ever find someone like me?” I spin around, jerking my arm free from his grasp. My chest heaves as the fury surges up, hot and uncontrollable. “That’s my prayer, Adam,” I hiss, voice sharp enough to slice through his inflated ego. “I pray I never find someone like you ever again.”

My name is Elena, and I am twenty-six years old, single, and currently so wet that the cotton of my panties is glued to my cunt. I work from home as a freelance graphic designer, which means my days are spent staring at screens and pretending I am a functional adult. Today the pretense cracked somewhere around noon. I had been answering emails in just an oversized T-shirt and no bra when a client sent over a mood board full of soft-focus bodies, wet mouths, hands gripping hips. Innocent enough on the surface. On me it landed like a match.

Everything inside me goes tight and aching. A small whimper escapes me. His hand finds my waist and grips hard, steadying me. "Dolly," he says, like a prayer and a curse. His voice has dropped an octave. "Don't stop." He doesn't. He moves against me again, slower, and I tilt my head to give him room, my hand finding the front of his shirt and holding on. The heat under my skin rolls up my spine and pools low. I smell honey and spice on myself, thick enough to taste, and beneath it smoke and cedar and something that is entirely Noah. They twist together into something new. Something that is me and him.

Nyla: Sure, you can take as much as you want. A wide grin spread across my face. I replied quickly with a simple “Thanks” before I could overthink it. I grabbed the cutter and carefully opened the carton. Inside were rows and rows of small sachets of hot sauce. I took one, tore it open, and squeezed a generous amount over the fresh fries I had ordered earlier. The smell hit me first. It was rich, spicy, and slightly sweet. I dipped a fry and took a bite. Holy shit.

I glance around my shoulder. Tyler stands frozen in the pantry doorway, eyes locked on my ass. His gaze drags slowly over the curve of each cheek, the thin cotton of my shorts riding up just enough to expose the bare skin beneath. He doesn’t blink. His stare is heavy, hungry, completely lost in the sight of my flesh. Heat floods my face and spreads down my neck. I clear my throat loudly. His eyes snap up to mine, guilty for half a second before the corner of his mouth twitches like he’s not sorry at all. He steps forward with the spices. "That looks good. Keep going."

*winking emoji* My heart sank and I froze. The sender was a girl from his gym, someone I’d seen in his stories wearing tight leggings and a cropped top a few times. I didn’t think much of the relationship before because he posed with everyone, Ryan was friendly, too friendly apparently. I marked the message as unread, and when Ryan stepped out of the shower he smiled at me, wide and devious. “Did you send it, Pennywise?” he asked, his voice sweet as honey whenever he called me by his nickname for me.