The Flavor Bible Novels & Stories

Lexi smiled, feeling grateful for her friend's unwavering support. As she put down her phone and returned to her canvas, Lexi felt a sense of calm wash over her. This was her life – a life of art, of music, of color and chaos. And she wouldn't have it any other way. But little did Lexi know, her life was about to take a dramatic turn. A turn that would lead her down a path of luxury and excess, of secrets and lies. A path that would test her limits, challenge her values, and force her to confront the darkness of her own past.

He smirked as he took a spoonful of ice cream and slowly took it on an upwards journey to this mouth. Was he doing it slowly or did it just seem slow to me because I was watching his mouth. Why did something so ordinary seem so hot when he did it? As he swallowed the ice cream, I watched his throat move. Don’t lick the spoon, I prayed. I wanted to lick it, see what he tasted like. I wanted to see what he tasted like everywhere, but his mouth. God it was so sensual. I wondered what he could do with that mouth. “I’m not insulted at all..” he said slowly keeping the spoon down and jolting me out of my mesmerized state, “Aren’t you going to try it? This is divine.”

The lid twists off slowly. Perhaps the next batch will be smaller. Or maybe none will be made for a while. “Alright,” I say, sitting down with the jar in hand. The lid lifts away. “This salt makes food taste like whatever you want. I sprinkle it on, and you decide what your meal becomes.” Damian looks uncertain. “I’m not sure I want bacon flavored oatmeal.” Caleb laughs outright. “That’s not how it works,” he explains. “You’ll think you’re eating bacon. Real bacon. Texture and everything. It’s magic. It’s amazing.”

17: THE ARCHITECTURE OF MALICE. Roxanne Flair. The brass handle felt like ice against my sweating palm. The air inside the private holding lounge was thick, smelling heavily of spilled bourbon, expensive leather, and the unmistakable, suffocating musk of sex. I expected panic. I expected them to scramble apart, a frantic rush of fabric and whispered curses. Instead, Richard rose to his full height with a torturously slow, fluid grace.

I planned to brush it off and leave, but Dexter jumped in to argue with him first. "Yeah, for some people, being with Lincoln would be reaching way above their league, but we're the perfect match." Dexter continued provocatively, "And thanks for stepping aside, Caleb. You clearly knew that you were out of his league." I could not help but laugh. Caleb looked embarrassed and quickly ushered us inside. That evening, I invited Dexter to dine at a food truck. "After we broke up, I swore off dating. Not because I was holding onto him but because I felt like relationships weren't worth it." I began opening up to Dexter after a few drinks.

I glanced down and frowned. "I never asked for them heated." Panic instantly spread across her face. She bit her lip, clearly at a loss, before finally forcing herself to speak. "I'm sorry. Lucas only ever eats them fresh out of the oven, so I subconsciously just…" I almost laughed out loud. Was she trying to declare that she knew Lucas's habits better than I did? Such a cheap form of provocation. Truthfully, I had been the original regular customer at this bakery. I'd even gotten myself one of their black-gold VIP cards.

But instead of swallowing it all, he bit off one end and then tried to place it between my lips. The mingled smell of salmon and the vivid, scandalous image in my mind overwhelmed my senses. I opened my mouth slightly, letting the salmon rest on my tongue. The taste was fresh, cool, and unlike anything I’d experienced before. I felt an unexpected rush of excitement and addiction building inside me. “If given the chance, I’d like to taste the salmon with your body temperature and taste especially the taste of that private part,” he said, his voice a sultry invitation straight from the Devil himself.

"I can make a neat margarita." "Too sweet." "Vodka?" "Too strong." "Tequila?" She smiled, "Too risky." "Tequila it is," he chuckled. "How about that flask?" she asked, glancing at the gold flask sitting behind him. "That's absinthe, Miss. It's dangerously strong." "Perfect." He hesitantly handed her the flask. "Thanks," she grinned, pushing the glass of her whisky into his hands. "See you around." "Without a name?" he asked as she turned to leave.

Blythe pleaded, her voice trembling with desperation as she seemed to lose control. Kai didn’t hesitate. He immediately began to devour her eagerly, his tongue skillfully exploring her folds and sending waves of intense sensation through Blythe's body. She arched in response, her hands gripping his hair tightly as the pleasure surged through her. The intensity of the sensations was overwhelming, and she pressed his face even closer to her core, urging him deeper.

said he, low and rough around the edges. I blinked, caught off guard. "Yes, and you are?" He gave a small, humorless smile. "Just someone who admires your work. I've followed your art for years. Controversial stuff. Lust. Desire. Sin. You paint what people are too afraid to say." There was something about the way he spoke that always seemed to tighten my chest. He was not flattering me; he was confessing. "Thanks," I muttered as I finished yet another drink.