Relish (The Cass Chronicles Book 2)
Page 1
Relish
The Cass Chronicles, Book Two
By
Susannah Shannon
©2016 by Blushing Books® and Susannah Shannon
All rights reserved.
No part of the book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.
Published by Blushing Books®,
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is registered in the US Patent and Trademark Office.
Shannon, Susannah
Relish
eBook ISBN: 978-1-68259-522-0
Cover Design by ABCD Graphics & Design
This book is intended for adults only. Spanking and other sexual activities represented in this book are fantasies only, intended for adults. Nothing in this book should be interpreted as Blushing Books' or the Author's advocating any non-consensual spanking activity or the spanking of minors.
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Table of Contents:
Chapter 1 - Tussles and Taxes
Chapter 2 – A Fisherman's Tale
Chapter 3 - The Pervy PO Box
Chapter 4 - The Fraternal Juxtaposition
Chapter 5 - A Dearth of Fireflies
Chapter 6 – A Love Worth Relishing
Chapter 7 - Accounted For
Chapter 8 - Kookaburras and Cleavers
Chapter 9 - The Deception Confection
Chapter 10 - Dead Hens Would Have More Fun
Chapter 11 - Frozen Assets
Chapter 12 - The Reconnection Recipe
Recipe Archive
About Susannah Shannon
Ebook Offer
Blushing Books Newsletter
About Blushing Books
Chapter 1 - Tussles and Taxes
CassCooks Blog Post
No, it will not kill you
I'm actually not talking about what I might say to a toddler when trying to get them to try Brussels sprouts. (And no, Mr. Cass and I have not created any offspring yet—that's the second most frequently asked question). The number one question that I get on the blog (by a looong shot) is "Did you really make your own wedding cake?"
Short answer—Yes. Longer answer—it helps if you have storage and freezing capabilities and some experience baking. As frequent readers are aware, I was gifted the best mother-in-law on the planet when I became Mrs. Killian Nelson. Hazel, being the whirlwind of efficiency that she is, made planning and catering our own wedding a snap. Unfortunately for you, Hazel has only two sons. One of them belongs to me, and the other will take his own lovely bride on Valentine's Day.
Back to the topic at hand… Can YOU make your own wedding cake? Short answer—hell, yeah. You clearly have the good taste to read my blog. You are, therefore, of above average intelligence.
You will need certain things for this… A stand mixer and the correct cake pans. Trust me, if I could get the pans delivered to Slicktrench, Alaska, you can get whatever you need sent to wherever you happen to be. This doesn't mean that baking your own cake will be free, but it will be about what you pay for a grocery store sheet cake whilst being much more delicious and beautiful. (You may also be able to share pans with another bride… ask around.) Also, you will forever have the wherewithal to impress anyone. Getting knighted by the Queen? Have no fear; maintain eye contact while she pins the medal on you and whisper, "Empires rise and fall, but I made my own wedding cake." New neighbor is a supermodel and astronaut/brain surgeon? Big deal. Whip out your wedding album and let those photos bear testament to your all around amazingness.
A caveat, my wedding cake was a moist delicious yellow cake with huckleberry filling, decorated with Swiss meringue buttercream and decorated with fresh roses. What am I thinking… instead of 'a caveat' I should have written 'AND FURTHERMORE, BITCHES…' Today, I am going to get you started making Swiss meringue buttercream—hands down the silkiest, most scrumptious frosting ever. This recipe has the ginormous advantage of not requiring a candy thermometer. You're welcome.
6 egg whites—keep your hair on… Every cake recipe in the archive calls only for yolks, so stick with me, sugar beet, and nothing will be wasted.
1 cup sugar (white or light brown as you fancy)
Before you do anything else slice up 3 sticks of butter and set them out in the warmest part of your kitchen. Skip this at your peril.
In a double boiler, whisk the egg whites and sugar over a small amount of boiling water. Whisk non stop; you run the risk of scrambled eggs floating in a sugar brine, otherwise. You will whisk until all the sugar is incorporated/melted. The only way to test for this is wash your hands and then rub a drop of your egg sugar mixture between your fingers. Don't worry it will be done long before it is hot enough to burn you. If you feel any grains of sugar, you are not done. There is no way aroun
d it, you are essentially making a vat of snot. Sorry for that, but the truth will set us all free.
Now, you have options. You can set the bowl unto your stand mixer, set aside to cool, or even put it in Tupperware and stash it in the fridge for days. If we are moving ahead now, use the balloon attachment of your stand mixer and whisk into meringue. You want it to be shiny and smooth and form stiff white peaks. Beginning with hot whites will take a bit longer to whisk, but not that much… I just know that kitchen traffic being what it is, you might need your mixer for something else first (like the cake batter.)
Now, slow your mixer down. You may add the scrapings of the inside of a vanilla bean, (an act of love for any dessert) or almond extract. (See archives for more complex variations.) Add about half a stick of butter at a time and beat until it is all mixed in. Fear not. Repeat that because it will briefly look curdled. All is not for naught… Keep mixing. Alchemy will suddenly occur and you will have the frosting of your dreams. If there are no naked cakes waiting expectantly on your sideboard, you can decant into a lidded container and either refrigerate or freeze. You will need an ungodly amount of frosting for a wedding cake, so make it ahead. You can also store egg yolks in the fridge for several days before you turn them into cake.
Keep your life delicious!
Cass
Cass Harper-Nelson posted the recipe to her blog and rubbed the crick in her neck. Like all of her recent posts, this one was more notable for what she hadn't said than what she had. She hadn't said, "My new future sister-in-law thinks it counts for nothing that my cooking has helped turn Trench Outfitters into a popular destination wedding spot and is treating me like I am an idiot." She hadn't said, "We were all really hoping to rest a bit after Christmas and wish Ava and Torsten were getting married in June instead of February. Did I mention we live in Alaska? Say a prayer that every one of our guests doesn't get snowed in with us until May." She also hadn't mentioned that when she disobeyed her darling husband, she could count on being thoroughly spanked for it.
She felt the aftereffects of her most recent spanking as she stood to finish the supper she was making for those in residence at the lodge. She pulled the veggies out of the fridge and laid them in the sink while she pulled out her favorite knife and cutting board. She paused to slide her hands over her own bottom, giving the sorest spot a tentative squeeze. It was tender and felt delicious.
She and Killian were settling into a marriage that was different than that of any of their many friends. Killian loved the feistiness of his bride, but they had agreed that what made them happiest was a relationship that included a submissive wife. Since Cass was not particularly submissive, they were still working the details out. The result so far had been bliss, frequent spankings and even more frequent love making.
Her X-rated reverie was interrupted by the bell that signaled that a car was entering the fenced in property of the lodge. Cass went to the wide front porch to welcome their newest guest.
Lloyd Miller had visited four times in the nine months that Cass had been a Nelson. He was a quiet accountant who had recently retired and now had the time to visit his favorite fishing spot more frequently than he had previously. Cass was delighted that he was back and she greeted him with a warm hug. She thanked him effusively for the Smithfield ham that had arrived a few days earlier. "We have a new slogan," she teased. "Come for the salmon and send us a ham. You are in Cabin Four."
"Are you sure?" he asked.
She smiled. "Of course I am sure."
Lloyd looked suddenly uncomfortable. "Four? Not two?"
Cass had not pegged Lloyd as the demanding sort. He was the most frequent guest they had, so she looked at the whiteboard where they kept track of lodgers. "We have two cottages set aside under the name of Miller. Let's put you in four, since it's closest to the lodge."
"Well, Haz—Mrs. Nelson mentioned it when I made my reservation… I thought someone would be with me, but plans changed. I would prefer two if you don't mind. I will have a bit of a lay down before dinner, if you don't mind."
"Of course, do you need me to show you where it is?"
His smile had his dimples appearing. "If I don't know by now, there's no hope for me." He kissed her hand in a courtly gesture and headed out with a purposefulness that belied how tired he must be.
Cass had the beef paprikash simmering in the oven and was tossing the salad when Killian came sauntering in, smelling of the outdoors. He leaned in for a kiss and pressed himself against the bottom that still felt freshly spanked. "How's my bride?" he whispered.
"Ouchy," she said with the directness he enjoyed so much.
He gave her rump a playful rap with the back of his hand. "Good. When I tell you to leave the dishes for me, I mean it."
There was nothing new to add to the argument. She thought that he worked hard all day, and she could easily do several loads of dishes. He wanted her to relax and write her blog after dinner. There were much worse disagreements for newlyweds to have.
"You are a brute," she said, not meaning it in the least. She reached back and stroked the stiffening in the front of his jeans.
"And you are a naughty girl." He ran his tongue down her neck and onto her shoulder.
"How much fun would I be if I wasn't?" she queried, turning and arching her back so that her chest pressed against his.
He cupped her bottom in his hands. "Nowhere near as much fun," he whispered. He had lived with a chef long enough to know to ask, "Everything safe to leave?" glancing around the kitchen.
"Yes," she whispered joyfully and exhaled when he hoisted her over his shoulder. He carried her into their apartment and playfully tossed her onto the bed. She still could not believe that she had found this. This laughter, this safety, this passion. She bounced up unto her knees and began to unbuckle his belt.
"Funny, you didn't seem in any hurry to get this belt off of me last night…" he teased.
"That is because," she began, pulling the belt out of the loops and dramatically tossing it aside, "I am not stupid." She had his jeans open then and she pulled his cock deep into her mouth.
His hands combed through her hair. "No, you are not. You are very, very smart." His breathing was coming in deep gasps and he fucked her mouth eagerly. "But," he continued with a moan, "I am a freaking genius for marrying you." While she was sucking him, she slid her yoga pants off her hips. In a heartbeat, he had her bent over the bed. He entered her slowly, as he always did, with tenderness and care. Once she had accepted the length of him, he yanked out of her and hammered back in, so hard she could barely breathe. She roared into the bedspread as she urged him to take her harder. His fingers found her and between his manhood and his hand she came like a wildfire.
He gathered her against his chest and gently rocked her, while their breathing returned to normal. Cass looked at the clock and hopped up. "Tag, you're it!" She laughed. "I'm taking a shower—you bartend."
She switched on the light of the bathroom and could not resist turning and admiring her very lightly bruised backside. She could never resist this part. She pressed the lavender colored spots and sighed. She wasn't into pain; she was definitely into being spanked by her sexy husband. Luckily for her, he was more than happy to oblige her at the drop of a hat, or, she thought with a rueful smile, the swing of a hairbrush.
A quick shower and she was back putting the finishing touches on the salad. Her husband handed her a cocktail. "Is Hazel resting?" he asked.
"Must be, I haven't seen her in a while," was her answer. She hurried to stack plates in front of the buffet. She was making a mental note that the best way to lay out a buffet would make a great blog post, when guests began to head into the dining room.
Hazel bustled in and kissed her son hello, gratefully taking a glass of wine. "Look who I found on the pathway. It's Lloyd."
"I see that," said Killian, vigorously shaking the older man's hand.
Cass had just sat down when her cousin-in-law Travis took the seat next to her. Dammit, she
thought. If only dinner was like a school bus and you could lay your legs over a seat and say, "This spot is saved." Cass had never done such a thing, but she had been on the other end of that transaction plenty of times. She was pleased to see that Lloyd was across the table from her. "How was your trip up?"
"I got home yesterday," the socially clumsy Travis responded. "Oh, you meant him." He cocked his head towards Lloyd. There was no point in getting cross with Travis. He was something of a bumbling fool, but at the bottom of things, genuinely meant well. Usually.
"I meant both of you," Cass said. She was getting better and better at this hostessing thing.
Before the polite guest had a chance to respond, Travis continued. "I was in Juneau, running errands. I went to my CPA and told him that I looked online and I found all sorts of loopholes that he never used. I said, he's taken the last dime from my aunt and me."
Lloyd was looking very closely at the younger man. "Do you do your aunt's taxes?" he asked.
"I do. I found a way to save her a mint on this place," Travis said, gesturing around the handsome dining room with his fork.
"Gentlemen, no business talk at the table. Here, Travis, you need more bread." Hazel had materialized behind her nephew and handed him another slice. "It's dill-chive."
Chapter 2 – A Fisherman's Tale
Cass stretched her feet to the chair across from her and opened her lap top. "You know, you're probably right. You should definitely do the dishes every night."
Her husband rolled his eyes at her and set to work loading the dishwasher. "And you probably write best when you need to write standing up," he responded over his shoulder.