Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 76282 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 381(@200wpm)___ 305(@250wpm)___ 254(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76282 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 381(@200wpm)___ 305(@250wpm)___ 254(@300wpm)
Wick took out what he felt was the right pan and dropped the meat into it like dead weight. Disgusting. He grimaced. It stinks, too. How can he eat this? Well, he probably wonders why I almost come from drinking his blood.
Wick sat there staring at the pan, waiting. Then he remembered: seasoning. Did he remember exactly how much...? Not so much. Wick raised his brow and shrugged. It probably didn’t really matter. He looked around in a few cabinets and found where Henry put his spices. It looked like he was enjoying his trips to the grocery stores now. The man had somehow filled up the owner’s cupboards, pantry, and fridge within a week.
It took Wick a moment to get the range on, but when he did, he quickly had the house smelling liked cooked meat. He tried to remember each instruction and just remembered to flip it over and cook it on both sides. It took him a few tries to turn the slippery meat with the flat-looking utensil he’d seen Henry use on the vegetables. It was annoying and time-consuming. Wick sucked his teeth impatiently and turned the temperature all the way up to high. The meat really began to sizzle and pop, the pungent aroma permeating the entire downstairs. Before he knew it, the meat was done… well done. Wick began to nod because he remembered reading chicken had to be thoroughly cooked. He didn’t want to make his Beloved sick. Justice was going to be so surprised to see his mate in the kitchen being all domestic.
He took out the lettuce and cut a few uneven hunks off, stacking them on a thick piece of bread and the chicken on the other. The texture made his fingers itch, and the smell of the tomatoes almost made him gag. However, when Justice bounded into the room and yanked Wick up in his arms, he dropped the knife he was just about to cut the sandwich with and let his mate spin him around.
“What are you doing, crazy! Put me down,” Wick hollered.
Justice kissed all over the back of Wick’s neck, rubbing his three-day old beard along his sensitive skin. “What am I doing? What in the hell are you doing?”
“What does it look like? I’m making my mate some food. I took a lot out of him today.” Wick gave him a firm look. “Henry isn’t the only one that can satisfy your robust appetite.”
“Mmm. That sounds sexy and slightly jealous… my Lord.” Justice moaned the last words, pushing his hardness against Wick’s ass.
He saw Justice survey the sandwich with a perplexed and slightly skeptical look.
“What’s wrong? It doesn’t look right? I followed the recipe.”
Justice’s expression softened and a warm smile caressed his handsome face. “It looks perfect. I’ve been meaning to try blackened chicken.”
“Marvelous.” Wick clapped once. “Go, sit. I’ll bring you your plate and water.”
Justice sat at the high-top, watching Wick like a man in love.
He set the plate down and took up his usual seat so he could watch with satisfaction. After the first huge bite, Justice chewed slowly like he was savoring all the flavors. Wick was used to that. It was his favorite part. He loved how vocal Justice was about food and his appreciation of it when it was prepared well. Wick sat patiently waiting for his compliments. When none came after the second bite, Wick began to wonder.
Justice looked up at him and winked, his mouth sealed tight as he worked the food down. Ah, Wick understood now. It was so good and his mate was so surprised, he was speechless. Justice would probably always want him to prepare his meals now. No way.
Wick crossed his arms charmingly. “I see you winking and smiling, love. Well don’t get used to it. I know you American men and your archaic ways. Don’t think because I prepared one successful meal that you’re turning me into a chamber-maid and having me slaving in the kitchen, butt-naked with an apron that says My Buns Taste Better, while you handle the business. Whereas for me, you only call when you want me to satisfy your raunchy needs or get fed. I bloody refuse.”
Justice almost spit out his water from laughter. “I’m sorry… did you say my raunchy needs? What the hell were you reading out there by the pool…The Joy Luck Club?”
“The what club?”
“Never mind.” Justice hurried and swallowed another small bite without chewing. “And, no worries on keeping you in the kitchen, Wick. I promise, you’re safe.”
“You’re not eating as fast as you usually do, is—?”
“Hey, you said you wanted to stay up the rest of the day, remember. And everyone you communicate with is asleep… looks like we have an evening free. How about we do what most Americans do when they have free time.”