The Book Spice Novels & Stories

Sinclair watching us lazily from his seat on the couch, his protruded cock still bobbing as he puffed on his cigar. His eyes met mine and he smirked. Something about how sensual it was made my stomach tickle. He crushed the butt of his cigar on the ashtray, still holding my gaze. He poured whiskey slowly into a glass cup, and my eyes flickered his fingers closed round the glass as he swirled the liquid slowly, and brought it to his lips. When I looked up, his eyes were still holding mine down, black with lust. His gaze flickered down to my breasts, and my stomach kicked when he bit his lips.

The spices wafted over, releasing a rich, mouthwatering aroma. Zara lowered the heat as the dish simmered, glancing at the cookbook beside her. It featured Italian recipes meant for housewives, its white pages decorated with floral patterns and colorful designs at the center. She reread the instructions carefully, then set the book aside. Using a plastic spatula, she turned the food, stirred gently, and switched off the gas.

Copyright © 2024 Unusualdee All rights reserved. Original work. This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental. PRINT ISBN: 9798332220357 AUTHOR’S NOTE Welcome to my world of Spicy One-Shot Collection! As you embark on this journey of passion and desire, I wanted to share a personal note with you.

The woman asked with a smile "The usual, two glasses" Spade ordered and she nodded before walking out of the room, the moment she closed the door, Nate realized that they'd been left alone, he suddenly felt the tension hightened in the room, with Spade just a few inches away from him, he could feel his body heat and smell his cologne, today there wasn't a strong scent of nicotine, but rather his usual, signature musty scent. "Aren't you gonna look at the menu"? Spade asked pointing to the menu on the table.

Chapter 3 Lydia’s POV “If you want me to stop looking at you like this… tell me now,” Julian said, his voice low and rough as he stood there shirtless in the kitchen light. I took another slow sip of wine, my hand trembling just enough that the glass tipped. Red wine spilled across the counter and down the front of my silk robe, soaking through the thin fabric and making it cling to my breasts. My nipples hardened instantly from the cool wet silk. “Shit,” I breathed, setting the glass down fast.

He stood and offered Jasmine his hand as Mathin did the same for Andrea. They toured the market. At Mathin’s insistence, Andrea bought several beautiful books. Each was covered with sturdy leather and bound with brass. One was a cookbook. “The Haunt version of Betty Crocker,” Jasmine assured her as she handed it to her. “Just don’t try the recipe for pickled beetle eggs.” She smiled wickedly. “Too spicy.” She selected several bottles of essential oil and fragrance from the perfumer, and Mathin pointed out which spices they came from as he purchased supplies. She chose her own herbs and seasonings from the colorful display of glass jars available in one of the numerous outdoor booths.

Léon Dinner unfolds in that strange intimacy. I answer her questions, name the spices, explain why risotto requires patience, why you never serve cheese with fish. She listens, grave, as if each piece of information is precious. She tastes, appreciates, closes her eyes when a flavor surprises her. I don't talk about my work. She doesn't ask. We're suspended, outside time, in this kitchen that has never been used, illuminated by virgin wax candles. When she finishes her plate, she sets her fork down carefully.

The city sky had grown dark to a mellow gray, the kind that swathed everything in gentleness—buildings, trees, people. Rain still lingered in the air, shrouding the windows of **Chapter & Soul** in a soft mist. Inside, the world progressed more slowly, more softly. It was perfumed with old books, chamomile tea, and something sweet that Lena had baked and not labeled.

A shelf in the kitchen held small jars of spices, but rather than the usual garlic, pepper, or chili powder, the jars were labeled with things like Horehound, Solomon's Seal, and Myrrh. Another thing that caught our attention was the bookshelf in the living room. Most of the titles appeared to be hand-bound in leather. The names on the spines sent a chill straight through me. Herbs and Spells, Magical Uses for Mammals and Reptiles, and The Book of Shadows. The biggest book sat on a small table beside the shelf. Leo opened it and was flipping through a few pages when I leaned over his shoulder to take a look. All I found on the pages was a strange, unreadable script and some obscure hand-draw

I guess now I’ll be able to say I went without food for 3 days as well. I pulled one of the books off the shelf, rolling my eyes at the title, “Cooking for the beginner.” I chuckled, “unless you have water dishes in you, you’ll be of no use to me.” I flipped to the first page and began reading. The book was about different herbs and spices that could be used to create soups. Bringing the book over to the desk, I opened the cabinet and began sniffing the contents to identify each one. I wrote them all down on a piece of paper numbered the way I placed them back into the cabinet. I bit of pride bloomed in my chest and Scarlett chuckled, “that was all me, don’t be so proud of yourself.”