Marteeka's Dreams

Tuesday, April 18, 2017

Tasty Tuesday -- Pumpkin Fudge (oh wow!!)

From Kate Steele -- Whenever I'd go to various festivals in the area where I live, I'd search for pumpkin fudge until I decided to make my own. Guaranteed yummy!


Pumpkin Fudge
3 c. sugar
1/2 c. (1 stick) butter
2/3 c. evaporated milk
1/2 c. pumpkin
1 tsp. pumpkin pie spice
Combine. Bring to a boil, stirring constantly. Boil 10 minutes. Remove from heat and add:
12 oz. pkg. butterscotch morsels
7 oz. marshmallow creme
1 c. walnuts
1 tsp. vanilla
Mix well. Pour in pan. Cool and cut.

THE EXCERPT!

Remembered terror and unparalleled pain made him tremble. His breaths became short and fast. The sensation of being trapped assailed him and Shanrem stumbled to the door and rushed through. He stopped short at the sight of the doctor, now accompanied by a male with familiar golden eyes. Shanrem’s knees chose that moment to fold, but his descent to the floor was halted by a strong and steady grip.

“Easy there. Let’s get you back to your bed. Do you remember me, Shanrem?”

Shanrem muttered a soft thank you and gladly accepted the support. “Yes. Your name is Zen.”

“That’s right.”

Warmth emanated from where Zen touched his arm. Shanrem took a shuddery breath and tried to relax. It was easier than he’d anticipated. Zen’s presence and the subtle male musk of his scent stole through Shanrem. For reasons unknown it calmed him, easing the sensations of panic. Upon reaching the bed, Shanrem gratefully sat and watched as his rescuer took a seat on the bed opposite his. Zen studied him with such intensity, it made Shanrem glad he wore the soft, loose pants in which he’d been dressed. Though the perusal was penetrating, still Shanrem felt no threat, not as he had every day he’d been among the Dukati.

As Doc fussed a bit taking readings with a bioscanner, Shanrem let his gaze roam over the man who’d spoken to him when he’d first awakened. Tall, but not quite as tall as Doc, what Zen lacked in height he made up for in bulk. The clothes he wore were not revealing, but they hugged his frame just enough to hint at the hard body and sleek muscles beneath them.

His face was a near perfect oval, with a slight squaring at the jaw line. His eyes, under even brows, were somewhat heavy-lidded, giving him a slumberous, sensual air. A strong nose, straight and wider than Shanrem’s, led his gaze to rest on a pair of lips that were full enough to tempt, but not so much as to seem pouty. They complemented his face, as did the spare stubble that dotted his chin, jaw and upper lip.

Zen’s skin was a medium mocha brown. What flesh was revealed by his face, the open V’d-neckline and short sleeves of his shirt, shone with a healthy luster. Under the surface in various places were a few faint and colorful markings, near invisible patterns that wandered and flowed. The opened neckline of his shirt also bared the beginnings of a silky-looking matt of hair that triggered an unexpected flutter in Shanrem’s belly and made his fingers twitch.

During the course of his studies, Shanrem had come across a picture of a man from Earth whose abdomen was adorned with hair that began at his collarbone and trailed down to and below the low-riding waistband of the pants he’d been wearing. Males on Shanrem’s planet had very little in the way of body hair other than some light furring around their genitals, so it had been an unexpected and arousing sight. One that he had used many times to fuel the fantasies he’d indulged in while bringing himself pleasure.

To see something similar now, in person, even under these circumstances, stirred those memories and he felt a flush heat his skin. Shanrem wasn’t sure if he should be shocked or grateful he was still capable of sexual excitement. The Dukati male who’d taken him as a pet had had no interest in giving Shanrem pleasure. Shanrem was there to be used and was made aware of it every time he’d been violated.

Shanrem forced his gaze from that intriguing chest to the hair on Zen’s head. Long enough to brush the collar of his shirt, varying shades of black, crimson, chestnut, chocolate and tawny gold blended into fine, pleasing patterns among its shining waves. Shanrem had seen little of the way his rescuer moved, but even that small amount had left an impression. He was quick when needed, self-assured and possessed an easy grace like that of animal. That thought brought a realization to Shanrem which explained Zen’s coloring.

“What race are you?” Shanrem asked.

As though expecting the question, Zen answered without hesitation, “Half Human, half Tulensian.”

“Mongrel.”

The warmth in Zen’s eyes winked out and was replaced by an impenetrable calm that hid his every emotion.

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