Devour Me (Master Chefs Series #1) (14 page)

 “In
the real world,” he went on, “we don’t have that luxury. Meals have to be prepared
precisely and quickly. That’s why as chefs, we need to know our way around a
kitchen and have an intimate knowledge of the right tools to use. ”  He
chuckled as he held Taryn’s apron up to her, his eyes turning dark and
mysterious. “Take off all your clothes, Taryn, and put this on.”

Taryn’s
mouth opened in surprise.

Errol’s
voice was firm as he said, “Strip for me until you’re completely naked except
for the apron.”

“But…I
thought we were going to cook…”

“We
are,” Errol said, turning the kitchen table around to sit down and face her. “In
a way…now strip. I need you naked for this, Taryn.”

Taryn
unbuttoned her shirt slowly, tossing her shirt onto a chair while Errol watched.
She unzipped and peeled down her jeans, leaving her standing in front of Errol
in just her lace bra and sheer panties. Her mind still on Madame Xaviera’s
seductiveness, Taryn suddenly felt inadequate and unattractive in front of
Errol.

“Now,”
Errol said, “take off everything.” His voice was firm and commanding, not at
all like a lover.

“I
don’t…” Taryn started saying. She unhooked her bra and was letting it slide off
when she covered herself back up.

Errol
was in front of her in a swift moment, his hand, pulling her hand off of her
bra. “Don’t cover up,” he said. His lips hover over her ears. “Don’t cover up
your magnificent breasts, Taryn.”

“But
they’re not so…so…large…voluptuous like…” Taryn dropped her chin to her chest.

“What
is it? Something happened in class?” Errol put his hand to her shoulder.

She
shook her head and nodded.

“Yes? 
No?  Maybe?”

The
playful tone of his voice was wonderful to hear, but not enough to pull Taryn
out of the dark mood she’d allowed herself to slip into.  Xaviera was getting
to her, in every way possible, and she didn’t know how to cope with it.  New to
this game of love, lust and eroticism, she wasn’t equipped to compete with a
woman like Xaviera.

Errol
turned her to face him.  “Why don’t you tell me what’s really going on?”

The
burn of tears stung her eyes as she looked up at him.  She clenched her jaw to
keep it from trembling, while a ball of hurt crammed her throat.

“It’s
Xaviera, isn’t it?”

She
shot him a quizzical gaze.  “How d’y…?”

“Xaviera
has always had a talent for annihilating any other women in the room… in the
building… hell, in the city.  What happened?”

Taryn
shrugged.  “Nothing.”

“Come
on.  I know her.  I know you.”

“What
do you know about her that would make you think she’d specifically target me?”

The
playful grin faded and his gaze turned thoughtful and concerned.  “You think
she specifically targeted you?  Only you?”

“I
don’t think it, Errol.  She
did
target
only
me.  She was a
sweetheart to all the guys in the class and was minimally polite to the other
girls… but me?”

“What
did she do?”

“She
humiliated me in front of the whole class.  She taunted me for not knowing…”

“For
not knowing what?”

Frowning,
Taryn turned to grab the stupid ball thing off the counter. “For not knowing
what this damned thing is for.”

“Ah,
yes.”  Errol took it from her hand.  “This is used to…”

“I
know what the thing is for now,” Taryn growled.

Setting
the instrument back on the counter, he pulled Taryn into his arms. “Don’t let
her get to you.  It’s a silly game she enjoys playing. She enjoys the torment
of others. If she sees she’s getting to you, it’ll only get worse. She has that
mean-streak in her. One might even call her a bully.”

Taryn
pulled back to look at him. “Does she know?”

“Know
what?”

“About
us?”

He
shrugged. “I didn’t tell her anything, but she probably suspects. She’s good at
picking up on things like that.”

“She
wants you, doesn’t she?”

He
shrugged again. “Could be.”

Feeling
defeated, Taryn dropped her gaze to the floor. “I can’t compete with someone
like her.”

“Who
said anything about competing?”

She
met his gaze.

Errol
grasped her shoulders, shook her playfully and kissed her brow. “Enough of this
for now.  I’ll pour you a glass of wine, you’ll sit back and relax a bit and
dinner will be on the table in twenty minutes.  How does that sound?”

Taryn
sensed there was more to it than just that, but she didn’t argue or question. 
Sitting down with a glass of wine sounded good and she longed to put Madame X
out of her mind.

Chapter 15

A
fter a cozy dinner of
pot-au-feu
, Errol
and Taryn lingered at the table over a last glass of wine.  They’d avoid any
conversation that could bring them back to Xaviera, but the question continued
to gnaw at Taryn.  Was Errol going to have an affair with her?  Had it already
begun?

“Now
feel better?” Errol asked as he rose to clear the dishes.

Taryn
nodded slightly before she rose to help him, but he shook his head and gestured
to her seat.  “Wait here.”

A
few moments later she felt a strange sensation on the back of her shoulders.  “What
are…?”

“Close
your eyes,” Errol ordered.  He reached around to unclasp her bra then pulled it
off her shoulders.

Once
again she felt a strange, but pleasant sensation as something rolled along her
back.

“What
instrument could possibly create such a sensation on your skin?”

A
gentle, probably fluted wheel ran smoothly back and forth.  “A pastry trimmer.”

“Not
bad.”  He set the tool on the table.

Keeping
her eyes closed, she waited a moment.

“Now
this.”

She
felt a gentle but sharp pounding on her back.

“Hurt?”

“Barely.”

“Good?”

“Yes.”

“What
is it?”

“A
meat tenderizer.”

“Right.”

Another
moment of silence passed before a sharp scraping sensation passed across her
back.  “That could be a lot of things.  A spatula?”

He
passed from shoulder to shoulder.  “Feel the width.”

She
concentrated on the slow passing of the instrument.  “A dough scraper?”

“Good.” 
He reached for her hand.  “Come on.  You’ve graduated to the next level.”  He
guided her to the couch, but before she sat down, he slowly and meticulously took
off every stitch of clothing she had on. Grinning, he said, “The better to help
you feel every movement of every tool.”

“Right,”
she said knowingly.

“Lie
down and close your eyes.”

She
did as she was told, then Errol took her hands and set them on the armrest
above her head.  Moments later she felt a funny prickling sensation across her
belly.

“I
have no idea,” she confessed.

He
passed the instrument slowly over one breast, dipped into the valley then up
and over the other breast.  She nearly opened her eyes, the sensation was so
strange and foreign. 

“You're
not concentrating on what it could be.”

“It’s
funny. It tickles.”  She concentrated.  “This is another pastry thing, isn’t
it?”

“Could
be.”

“A
roller docker… or dough prickler?”

“Right
again.”  He set it down and quickly brought out the next test.

Three
dull blades plied at her skin in unison.  “That’s easy,” she said.  “A pastry
blender.”

“Okay. 
How ‘bout this?”

Two
slightly sharper blades rocked back and forth over her thigh.  “One of those
things you use to chop herbs.”

“The
name?”

“Oh,
something weird and funny.”

“Like?”

“Mezzanine?”

“Close.”

“Mezza…
something.”

“You
got half of it right.  Think of the moon.”

“The
moon?”  She rifled thought her culinary vocabulary.  “The moon…  lunar?  Oh, I
know.  Mezzaluna!”

“There
you go.”

Seconds
later she felt a vaguely oval pressure on her upper thigh.  It cut lightly into
her skin, like… a… heart.  “A cookie cutter,” she said.

“Too
easy.”

She
heard the tinkling of metal against metal as she waited.

“You’ll
never get this one.”

Cold
metal touched her breast, surrounding her nipple.

“A
guess?” he offered.

“Too
vague.”

“Here’s
a hint.”

A
strangely erotic sensation ran through her as something cool and hard prodded
her nipple while the rim of metal remained on her skin.  “That’s… odd.”

“Again?”

She
nodded, partly to better discover what the instrument was, but also to feel
that sensation again.  The prodding motion repeated itself several times.

“I
like it,” she finally said, “but I can’t figure out what it is.” 

“Want
to touch it?”

She
brought her hands up, but he pushed them back down.  “Not with your hands.”

Frowning,
she didn’t understand where he was going until she felt the cold metal on her
lips.  She smiled as he gently nudged the instrument into her mouth.  Running
her tongue along the instrument, she tried to imagine what it looked like.

“Watch
your tongue,” Errol warned.

The
prod that’d aroused her nipple now worked its way to the center of the circular
metal rod. 

“The
only thing I can think of,” she said, “is a cherry pitter.”

“Ooh,
what a talented tongue you have there.”

She
grinned behind her closed eyes as he set the pitter down and picked something
else up.  She heard a short, sharp intake of air then a tight suction pulled at
the skin of her belly.  “Hmmm.  That’s strange.”

“I
know you know this one.” 

She
felt nasty and dirty as the thought hit her.  Of course she knew what it was… a
baster.  But she was curious to feel that sucking, suction sensation…
elsewhere.  “Try again,” she whispered.

He
knew her too well.  In the next instant the suction pulled on an already erect
nipple.  An excited gasp escaped her and her eyes flew open for the briefest
second.

“Oh,
you like that one, don’t you?”

“You
surprised me, that’s all.”  She tried to leave the lust out of her voice, but
it still sneaked in.

“Well
then, how’s this for a surprise.”  He brought the baster to the sensitive nub
of skin between her thighs.

“Oh,
shit,” she cried out as she brought her hands down.

Errol
quickly stopped her from touching the implement and brought her hands back over
her head.  “Don’t make me have to tie you up.”

Repeatedly
he pushed the air out of the baster and set it on her to suck. “Too much
pleasure can get redundant,” he finally said as he pulled it away.  “We need to
find something that will… bring another dimension to your senses. In the
meantime, what instrument of the kitchen was able to bring such rapturous cries
of pleasure out of you?”

She
smiled.  “A baster.”

“Like
a turkey baster?”

She
cracked her eyes open and glared at him.  “What are you implying?”

He
chuckled and put his hand over her eyes.  “Never mind.  Onto the next…”

A
light tickling sensation ran over her wrists.  Three times the light touch
passed over her skin before Errol lifted her hands and put something under her
wrist.  Then she felt the unmistakable tug of rope binding her.

“Twine?”

“Yes,”
he said, his voice suddenly losing its playful appeal.  “Ready for that other
dimension?”

Taryn
hesitated.  “Like what?”

In
addition to being bound together, Taryn’s hands were secured to something that
kept her from bringing her hands down in front of her.

“Do
you trust me?”

Again,
she hesitated.

“Just
in case…”  Something light and airy brushed across her face.

“A
dishcloth?”

“Close.”

“Cheesecloth?”

“Perfect.” 
He set the cheesecloth over her eyes and reached under her head to knot it
tightly.

“Errol?”

“Trust
me,” he whispered into her ear.  His hand clamped over one ankle and he pulled
it up and secured it to the backside of the sofa with another cheesecloth,
leaving her feeling vulnerable and over exposed. “Forget everything you hear. 
Forget everything you’ve seen.  Forget everything you’ve tasted.  Forget
everything you can touch.  Just feel.”

Taryn
felt the sharp slap of something rigid yet pliable against her thigh.  A
surprised yelp escaped her.

“Like
I said, too much pleasure can become redundant.  Your mind, your body, your
skin needs a more intense source of stimulation.” 

Again
the sharp slap on her inner thigh brought out a yelp.

“What
implement could cause such delicious pain, Taryn?”

The
sharp slap burned across her belly.

“A
spatula?” she hissed.

“Too
easy.”  He tossed it aside.

A
sound smack reverberated on her upper thigh. Already she could envision the red
welt.  Swallowing, she wondered how far he would take this.

“What
is it, Taryn?” Errol asked as he brought it down again on her forearm.

She
winced and brought in a sharp breath. “Something hard.  Something inflexible.”

“You're
thinking too much.  Just feel it.”

Another
smack came to her shoulder.  “A wooden spoon,” she cried out.

“That’s
my girl.”

“Errol…”

“A
little reprieve from the pain, love?”

“Yes.”

He
rolled something along her leg, starting at her ankle and rolling up to her
knee.  The implement had ridges or grooves and wasn’t quite round as it seemed
to deviate from a straight course.