Her Secret Ingredient – M/F/M BDSM Erotic
Romance from Lisabet Sarai
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Her Secret Ingredient by Lisabet Sarai
Stir in a pinch to stir up his passion
When the
Tastes of France food channel offers Mei Lee “Emily” Wong a series of guest
spots, she jumps at the opportunity to take her culinary career to a whole new
level. Ultimately, she wants a show of her own, but first she has to prove
herself to Michelin-starred network founder and effective dictator, Etienne
Duvalier. A legend in the world of classic French cuisine as well as a
domineering perfectionist, Etienne is sceptical about the culinary abilities of
a woman from Hong Kong. To make things more difficult, the master chef is also
so gorgeous that Emily can't help being attracted to him.
Emily
tries to solve both problems by spiking her luscious profiteroles with an
ancient Oriental aphrodisiac. Unfortunately, Harry Sanborne, the low-key,
bespectacled producer for Emily's show, samples the delicacies she intends for
Etienne's consumption. His powerful reaction to her secret ingredient comes as
a pleasant surprise to them both. Harry turns out to be far more impressive in
bed than on the set. However, he can't do nearly as much to advance her
ambitions as Etienne. Emily tries once more to tempt the exacting M. Duvalier
with her special cooking as well as her feminine charms. The outrageous results
threaten to end her TV career forever - until Harry steps in to save her
reputation and claim her heart.
From the Book
“Even our Monsieur
le Chef can be swayed by great food. The desserts – oh, I’ve just got to
try one of these...”
“No! Harry...”
Before I could stop
him, though, he’d nipped a cream puff off the pile and popped it into his
mouth. His eyes went wide as he chewed and swallowed.
“Unbelievable! Give me
another...”
“Please, no...!” I
grabbed at his arm, but it was too late. He’d already devoured a second choux. “Those are supposed to be for Etienne...”
“Come on, you’ve made
at least two dozen. He won’t miss one or two.”
Harry made as if to reach for a third puff. I hung on, trying to
restrain him, but he was far stronger than I. Under that dorky clothing, I felt
his muscles tense and shift.
He halted, his fingers
inches away from its target, as if suddenly aware of my touch. Turning away from the tower of pastries, he
gazed down at me. Behind his glasses, his mocha-coloured eyes gleamed with
powerful purpose.
“Harry?” My stomach
did a somersault. My cheeks felt as though they’d just come out of the oven.
Meanwhile he held me in that fierce, all-consuming stare.
My right hand still
gripped his left arm, near the shoulder. He reached out to rest his on my
shoulder, as if we were about to dance. “You know, I actually see something a
lot sweeter right here.” He slid his palm down my back and pulled me to his
chest with a decisiveness that sent my pulse into overdrive. When he leaned in
close, I smelled the almonds on his breath.
“Harry...I don’t
think...”
“Shh!” He enforced
this directive by fastening his mouth on mine in an energetic kiss.
He tasted,
unsurprisingly, of sugar and cream. His firm lips moulded to mine while his
tongue teased at the seam, coaxing me to open. I shouldn’t have given in, but I
honestly couldn’t help it. He might look like a bit of nerd, but this guy
really knew what he was doing. Wet, but not sloppy – forceful, but not brutal –
alternating between deep penetration and playful flickering – he kissed with
consummate sensuality. All I wanted was to swoon in his arms, to let him take
me over. He seemed eager to oblige.
The hand on my back
wandered down to cup my ass and pull my pelvis against his. I gasped at the
size and rigidity of the lump pressed against my pubis. My nipples snapped into
aching knots and moisture flooded my already damp panties. He laced the fingers
of his other hand through my hair, using them to control the position of my
head as he drank his fill of me.
His mouth slipped away
from mine to nuzzle below my ear, somehow finding the precise spot that’s
directly connected to my clit. Meanwhile
he groped my breasts, squeezing hard – harder than I usually like, but now I
actually wanted more.
Apparently he did,
too. He tugged at my blouse, trying to pull it out from the waistband of my
skirt, and finally succeeding. The first graze of his fingertips along my naked
skin sent a wave of arousal crashing through me.
“Wait – no –
aah...oh...” My protests faltered as he deftly extricated one of my breasts and
caught the nipple between his thumb and forefinger. He tugged on the taut node
of flesh, twisted it, flicked it back and forth. I swear I felt him doing the
same to my clit. At the same time, he caught my earlobe between his teeth,
worrying it like a pup with a toy.
Oh God! He was all
over me, fondling and caressing whatever flesh he could access through my
dishevelled clothing – and it was glorious! Crumpling my skirt to the waist, he
worked his clever fingers under the elastic of my panties to stroke my soaked fur.
I jerked against his palm, wanting him to explore more deeply. He appeared
happy to oblige, pushing into my channel with his fingers while strumming my
clit with his thumb. I wormed my way
into his loose trousers and clung to his cotton-covered ass, feeling his gluts
flex as he ground his astonishing hardness against my belly.
I’d never doubt my
grandmother again.
About Lisabet
Lisabet Sarai became addicted to words at
an early age. She began reading when she was four. She wrote her first story at
five years old and her first poem at seven. Since then, she has written plays,
tutorials, scholarly articles, marketing brochures, software specifications,
self-help books, press releases, a five-hundred page dissertation, and lots
of erotica and erotic romance – nearly fifty single author titles, plus dozens
of short stories in various erotic anthologies, including the Lambda winner Where
the Girls Are and the IPPIE Best Erotic Book of 2011, Carnal Machines.
Her gay scifi erotic romance Quarantine won a Rainbow Awards 2012
Honorable Mention.
Lisabet has more degrees than anyone would
ever need, from prestigious educational institutions who would no doubt be
deeply embarrassed by her chosen genre.
She has traveled widely and currently lives in Southeast Asia with her
indulgent husband and two exceptional felines, where she pursues an alternative
career that is completely unrelated to her creative writing.
For more information about Lisabet and her
writing, visit her website (http://www.lisabetsarai.com)
or her blog Beyond Romance (http://lisabetsarai.blogspot.com)
