Inferno Anthology (4 page)

“You enjoy pleasing people, don’t you, Taryn.” His lips left her ear and travelled down the length of her neck. “And I enjoy being pleased.”

She struggled to find her voice. She had to say something, anything to make him understand this wasn’t what she’d expected. In her wildest dreams, yes, but in reality…she had her scholarship to think of. “What…?” The question remained lodged in her throat as he brought his lips into the valley between her breasts.

“You and I will get along quite well.” He brushed his hardened erection against her, making her shudder with need for him. She had never been touched so boldly by a man.

“Wait.” Through her lustful daze, Taryn found the strength to stop him. “I have no intention of prostituting myself in order to have a nice place to live or to get good grades.”

“That’s not my intention either.”

“Really? Then why are your hands and lips all over me?”

A pleased chuckled purred through his parted lips while his eyes danced with amusement. He took his hands off her and took a step back making her instantly regret her words. Her body now felt cold and alone without the warmth of his closeness.

“I’m happy to see you find this all amusing,” she managed to say. “But I have my future at stake here. What will people think when they learn I’m living with my teacher.”

“What I have in mind is completely legitimate and people will think you’re damned lucky.”

Taryn cocked an intrigued brow. “Go on.”

“I need a live-in assistant and have made no secret about it. I’m in the process of writing a new cookbook and I need someone to try out the recipes. It’s a lot of work, work I don’t have time to tend to. I’m already swamped. Between teaching, taping my show and the publicity tours, I barely have time to take a breath. And I’m already behind my deadline. Of course, I need someone with a strong culinary background. You’d have to write down every change, every adjustment, edit everything, organize everything.”

A little confused by the sexually charged reception and the now cool calculation of his arrangement, Taryn shrugged off the vague disappointment that’d settled on her shoulders and concentrated on the positive aspect of this plan. Working for someone as illustrious as Errol King was a definite plus in any résumé.

“I think you’re the perfect candidate, Taryn. Do you think it’s something you could handle? Something you’d enjoy?”

“I do.”

“Then, you accept?”

“Yes, I accept.”

“Fantastic. I know you’re going to do a great job. Now let me show you to your room.”

She followed him into the hall, gawking at her beautiful surroundings. Living in such an apartment was a dream. And when he pushed the door to her room open she knew it was a dream she could easily get used to.

Elegantly furnished and tastefully decorated, the room immediately embraced her. The neutral colors were warm and inviting, as was the throw rug by the bed. Large throw cushions on the bed added the only splash of color in the room; a deeply burnt orange and a blood red.

“Think you’ll be comfortable here?”

“I might never want to leave.” She walked to the window, certain the view behind the curtain would be better than the one she would have had were it not for his generous invitation. She wasn’t disappointed. “And I get to wake up to the Eiffel Tower every morning.”

“It’s a major part of the reason I chose this location. Isn’t it fabulous?”

It’s more than fabulous, she thought, feeling more like a princess than in any of her childhood dreams. As she looked out at the city she would call home for the next little while, she heard Errol come up behind her. Her breath caught in her throat when his strong arms wrapped around her waist and pulled her back to his chest.

“I’m glad you decided to come stay here,” he said. His lips brushed along her ear. “I was looking forward to seeing you in class, but I guess we were meant to meet earlier. I hope everything will work out well…and if you are very good, in time I might do more to you than touch you, Taryn. I might just bend you over, tear off your panties, and fuck you until you’re raw and screaming from having orgasm after orgasm.” He nibbled her lobe. “Or devour your delicious puss all day long. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” His fingers snaked their way under her shirt and lightly brushed her breast. “I know I’m already looking forward to it.”

For a moment she thought she’d misheard him. Surely she’d misheard… misunderstood. When his hard-on pressed into her backside she realized she’d heard exactly what he’d said and knew exactly what he meant.

New to the strange sensations he continued to bring her since their encounter, she didn’t know whether to fight him off or lean into his embrace. It felt good, that much she couldn’t deny, but it didn’t feel right.

He was a handsome and obscenely rich celebrity, and Taryn knew how many women wished they could be in the very same spot she now found herself in.

And this handsome and obscenely rich celebrity could be my first, she thought. Her first… What would he think when he learned she was a naïve, inexperienced twenty-one year old virgin? He who had probably known hundreds of women; women who knew… who knew what? How to make love to a man? How to touch a man?

How hard could it be?

Biting her lip she looked down at his hands. How many breasts had they cupped? And as his lips continued to play along her neck she wondered how many lips had he kissed. How many women had pleased him?

Did it matter? She thought as he gripped her hips and pulled her back into him, pressing his hard-on more urgently into her backside. She let out an involuntary moan. He was the man of her dreams…now she could have him, and he wanted her, too…

She’d come to Paris to get an education, to build a career and she had every intention of proving herself…to Errol, to Paris, to the culinary world. She had no intention of simply being a man’s plaything. She had to do well at the Institute, learn everything she could, and go back home to run her mother’s restaurant. Her mother gave up her chance to date and get remarried for her and her little brother. Now it was Taryn’s turn to give up her dreams to save the family restaurant and take care of her family. Once she returned to New York, once her time at the Institute was over, she’d go straight to work as hard as her mother at the restaurant and probably never have time for herself.

Taryn’s thoughts were interrupted by Errol, and she soon became lost in the pleasure he was giving her. Oh God, his touch felt so good. He smelled good, and whatever he was doing to her, it consumed her, made her whole body and mind respond to him and chased away any other thoughts, except having more of him. He turned her around and pressed his hard-on against her sensitive core and rubbed against her, while his fingers played with her nipples, squeezing them and then circling them. “Errol…” she began to say, but his mouth pressed into hers, his tongue seeking out her tongue. Her head swam in pleasure, while her body took over with desire for him.
It’s time to put the little girl behind. It’s time to stop turning guys away. It’s time to see what all the fuss is about. Why couldn’t I enjoy this just one time before I give up my own dreams and a chance for my own life?

“What do you want, Taryn?” Errol mumbled between kisses.

“I want,” she let out. “I want this arrangement, Errol,” she confessed. For the first time in her life she was ready to jump into a meaningless and purely physical relationship with a man… and who better than Errol King?

Just as Taryn prepared to lean back and give in, Errol backed away, released her and headed to the bedroom door.

“I know you’ve had a big day, so I’ll let you get settled. If you want to do some shopping tomorrow – buy a few things you might have forgotten – I’d be happy to take you to a few shops. We can also stock the refrigerator with whatever you like.”

Chilled by his sudden turn toward the pragmatic, Taryn hugged herself, willing the chill to leave her. She wanted his arms again and couldn’t understand how he could be so hot and passionate one moment then turn around and treat her as though she were a mere houseguest.

You are a mere houseguest, she reminded herself.

“Thank you,” was all she could say as she followed him out.

“I have to get to the Institute. I’ll see you later.” Without so much as a peck on the forehead, he left.

Though dismayed, Taryn’s spirits soared as she reminded herself where she was… in the heart of Paris. Letting out a childish yelp, she spun around in the living room, ran to the kitchen to check out the contents of each cupboard then ran to Errol’s room to see what the room said about him.

Rich with fine antiques, his room was a blend of refinement and masculinity. Several authentic looking masterpieces hung on the walls in intricately carved picture frames. A curio case in the far corner held a surprising variety of knick knacks, most notably a porcelain figurine of a small boy kicking a ball while being chased by his dog. It seemed strangely innocent and charming in the otherwise mature décor.

Running her hand over the bed, she immediately felt a spark and knew it was a spark borne of Errol’s touch on her skin. Why had he not continued his sensual onslaught on her and invite her to share his large bed? She had been so aroused by him, she wanted him to take her then and there. Why did he stopped?

“No,” she said aloud to the darkened walls that had probably seen their fair share of wanton acts in this room. “I will not spend the day wallowing in angst because some hotheaded chef doesn’t want to go to bed with me.”

She marched out and spent the better part of the morning organizing her things. Her dresses, skirts and blouses fit neatly in the oversized closet while the dresser drawer remained half empty even after she’d unpacked her last suitcase.

With her bedroom in order, she made her way to the kitchen carrying a small cardboard box. Inside were the few cooking implements she couldn’t live without. A Lamson perforated turner she treated herself to the previous year, a wooden spoon her mother had given her after they’d concocted their first sauce together, a professional Japanese knife from Chroma France she’d won when she’d entered a Eurasian cooking contest and her favorite pepper mill from Peugeot; a birthday gift from her brother, Bobby. As a young college student, he’d had to work many hours in order to set aside enough money for the tool he’d call, ‘a waste of a good fifty bucks.’

She opened the drawer to put the turner, spoon and knife away, wondering what Errol would say when he found them. No doubt he would balk at the wooden spoon and call it an unprofessional utensil. Chuckling as she anticipated his return, she set the pepper mill on the counter.

As the lunch hour approached, she decided to whip up a light lunch for Errol. A fresh summer salad, some French bread with melted Brie and comfit onions, and rolled caramels in a warm vanilla custard for dessert.

Working in Errol’s kitchen was a dream. Functional, practical, convenient and modern, it had everything a chef needed to prepare meals and even a few things she would have never thought of, like the vegetable rinsing basket incorporated into the sink and a superimposed glass counter that stood eight inches above the main countertop. It allowed one to work on the main countertop while keeping certain items close and handy on the glass shelf.

The entire kitchen was a far stretch from the small and sometimes confusing kitchen she’d work in back home. As cramped and untidy as it was, however, it never diminished her love of cooking.

Cooking had always pleased her, always brought out the triumphant child in her, and even preparing a light and simple lunch brought her pleasure. The colors, textures, scents and flavors had always enticed her, called out the creator in her, and she always responded. It had always been with her; not only the love of good food, but the pleasure of feeding those around her. Her friends and family had benefited from that passion on more than one occasion.

Now it was Errol’s turn.

An hour and a half after preparing the quick lunch, however, she realized he would not be coming back. Half-heartedly, she ate her meal and wondered if he’d be home for dinner.

He wasn’t, and arrived only shortly before she prepared for bed.

“Oh, you’re still up.” With an overstuffed folder tucked haphazardly under his arm, he brushed past her and headed to the kitchen.

“It’s been a long day, but I had time to get cozy and feel at home here.”

“I’m happy to hear that.” He opened the refrigerator and pulled out a bottle of water. “Don’t let me keep you up. Tomorrow I’ll have a few hours free so I can show you some of the best places to shop, if you like.”

“Um, yeah. Sure, that’d be great.” Had she really heard a dismissal in there somewhere? While she’d hardly expected him to jump all over her when he arrived, she had expected something… a little warmth. Okay, she silently admitted. She had expected him to jump all over her. So why the coldness?

She went to bed, confused. Did she imagine this sensual man’s touch on her earlier today? She sighed. It must have been real, but she was too exhausted to think otherwise, and she fell asleep.

The following morning he awaited her bright and early in the kitchen with a steaming cup of strong coffee.

“I thought we’d start with a tour of the local markets. I have my favorite spots – the freshest bread, the best beef, the crispest vegetables – but you can decide for yourself where you eventually want to shop.”

Taryn barely had time to gulp down a few sips of coffee and get dressed before they headed out in search of the perfect ingredients for the day’s meals.

The fish market produced the perfect halibut steak for dinner while various vegetable vendors provided the carrots, onions and spinach that would accompany it. They picked out a lean cut of beef that would be thrown into a fresh Mediterranean salad with pearl onions and olives. Fresh baked bread called to them from a distance as the heavenly scent wafted through the tightly packed streets and Errol treated her to a warm and gooey brioche straight from the oven of his favorite baker.

“Think you’ll remember where all of these are?” He gestured at the many vendors as they continued to wind their way through the marketplace.