Slow-Cooked cravings

Have you ever tasted a forbidden flavor?

Ever had a rivalry that burned so hot it left your body aching?

Ever wanted something so bad you forgot the rules—and let yourself get devoured?

Behind the polished kitchens, beneath the white tablecloths, and beyond the glint of steel blades, a different kind of heat simmers—one that has nothing to do with fire, and everything to do with temptation.

In this decadent collection of erotic short stories, chefs clash, rivals seduce, and apprentices defy their masters in a world where every glance is a dare, every bite is a risk, and surrender is always on the menu.

Seven Stories. Seven Power Plays. One Hunger That Can’t Be Contained.

From back-of-house confrontations that explode into breathless encounters to slow-burning feasts of control, obsession, and forbidden indulgence—Sultry Journeys: The Culinary Collection serves a tasting menu of seduction that’s bold, intoxicating, and ruthlessly delicious.

These aren’t love stories. They’re battles—fought with knives, with mouths, with everything that should be off-limits.

But be warned: once you take a bite, you won’t be able to stop.

The kitchens are open. The rules are gone.

Come hungry. Leave ruined.

Read an Exerpt

Prime Cut

The contrast between her world and this one was stark. Here, the land stretched wide and untamed. Golden pastures rolled endlessly toward the horizon, kissed by the late summer heat.

The wind carried the scent of earth, of freshly cut hay and sun-warmed leather, a far cry from the truffle-laden air of her Michelin-starred empire.

And yet, as she maneuvered the final bend leading up to Silva Ranch, a slow smile played on her lips.

She wasn’t out of place. She was exactly where she wanted to be.

Excellence demanded the best, and the best was found here. Sergio Silva’s beef was legendary—not just in her circles, but across the culinary elite. He bred cattle with a precision bordering on obsession, ensuring that every cut, every ounce of marbling, was perfection. She had built her name on such perfection, on the decadent surrender of her guests as they took their first bite of something transcendent.

But the supplier behind it? That was another matter entirely.

Sergio Silva. A name spoken in hushed reverence among butchers, farmers, and chefs alike. He was a master of his craft, a man whose knowledge of meat was almost biblical. He raised beasts with the kind of care others reserved for family, monitoring their diet, their movement, their very breath.

And yet, despite the empire of flesh and bone he commanded, he was… shy.

She had met him twice before. Brief encounters, all business.

A man built like a war god but carrying the demeanor of someone who would rather blend into the shadows. A walking contradiction—towering, powerful, yet unsure in her presence. He spoke in measured words, never more than necessary, his deep voice betraying the restraint he carried in his massive frame.

That restraint fascinated her.

She wanted to break it.

The tires crunched against the gravel as she pulled up to the ranch house, dust curling lazily in the wake of her arrival. The place was sturdy, practical. Built for function, not vanity. Exactly what she expected from a man like Sergio. The barn loomed in the distance, its large doors yawning open to reveal the silhouette of him moving within.

“Chef Moreau,” he greeted, his voice dipping low, careful.

“Sergio.” She let his name roll off her tongue slowly, stepping forward with a confident stride.

His posture was relaxed, but she saw the tension in his grip, the way his fingers flexed slightly as if unsure what to do with them. He was always like this around her. Unsteady. Which only made her want to tip him further off balance.

“I was in the area,” she said, watching him closely. “Thought I’d stop by.”

His brows pulled together slightly, not in disapproval, but confusion. “Didn’t expect you.”

“I like to keep people guessing.”

She tilted her head, letting her gaze rake over him in an appraisal that wasn’t entirely professional. His jaw clenched, and his eyes darted away for the second time.

The man looked like a bull but had the nerves of a colt.

Silence stretched between them, thick and heavy, before he finally cleared his throat. “You want to see the stock?”

Her lips curved slightly. “I want to see you.”