Bittersweet

by Marsden, Sommer

“There you are! The candy is spectacular but the party is a bore. Beyond a bore,” Ted said and feigned a yawn.

  “Sorry, you knew it was a local biz,” she said.

  “Hey there, girly girl,” Mrs. Shapiro said and hugged her. She nibbled a petit four and took a sip of what looked like champagne out of a fancy plastic glass.

  “Mrs. S! What are you doing here?”

  “I was worried. That man isn’t all there,” Mrs. Shapiro said and then twirled her bejeweled finger near her temple. “You deserve better. Even though he did attempt a ham-handed apology. But still, much better is what you should have. Isn’t that right, Petunia?” She tucked a finger inside her oversized purse. Rayka heard snuffling like a truffle-seeking pig. Dear God. The dog was in the bag.

  Petunia pushed her smooshed up face over the side of the bag and snuffled her agreement.

  “Thanks, but I’m here as a designer. Strictly professional. I decided against dating Deacon the other night.”

  “Excellent,” Ted interjected and sidled a bit closer. Rayka couldn’t help but think of a snake’s sibilant hiss when he said the word. Predator. That’s what he felt like breathing on her and standing so close. She took a small step to the side and smiled.

  “It was for the best. But he did invite me and you know darn well when you work for yourself, any social event can turn into a possible job.”

  “True. True. Now let me get you a drink. It’ll loosen you up,” he said and darted off.

  Yes. She was sure that was Ted’s goal. Loosen her up and then relieve her of her clothes. She could feel Deacon’s eyes on her, burning into her skin. Rayka turned her attention to Mrs. S and her intrusive canine.

  “So, once we’re all done with your bedroom, are you done with the house?” Honestly, she really didn’t care—she just wanted to focus her attention.

  “No, honey, I’ve been meaning to tell you I want to do the sitting room next. That’s where Petunia’s bed is. She loves red. Red and green. Like Christmas.”

  Oh shit. Like Christmas. But she nodded dumbly until Ted nearly knocked her over handing her a drink. “Here you go, pretty lady. Have some bubbly.” Then he did the unthinkable. He put his arm around her and none too subtly brushed his right hand up the side swell of her breast.

  Without thinking, Rayka glanced at Deacon and her hand tightened on the plastic stem of the glass. An immovable obstruction had blossomed in her throat, and she swallowed hard to dislodge it with no success. Time seemed to slow as she saw Deacon set down the tray, glower at them, and then round the counter with what could only be described as malicious intent.

  “Ted—”Rayka started but by then, it was too late.

  Deacon had Ted’s arm behind his back as Ted stuttered a loud protest. It didn’t matter, though, Deacon’s expression was primal. There were no thought processes going on in there, she thought, as Deacon gave Ted the traditional bum’s rush.

  Chapter 19

  Deacon propelled the slime ball out the front door. He was completely aware that all eyes were on him, including reporters, and he was powerless to control it. When Ted had touched Rayka, rage had shot through him, a swift and fierce presence.

  “Don’t fucking come back, Teddy boy,” he managed. “I’d hate to have to go to jail almost as much as I’d hate to send you to the emergency room.”

  Ted stammered with blustery indignation and Deacon ignored him.

  “Mr. James!” a reporter called. She was long and leggy with jet black hair to her waist. Those legs would probably wrap around a man’s waist during sex and lock him tight against her. Her name was Nora, and she had been hitting on him all night. Her camera man was rolling and he followed Deacon with a predatory interest.

  Deacon held up his hand and shook his head. He grabbed Rayka by the arm and started to pull her toward the office. “You’re coming with me.”

  Her face wasn’t fearful. It was more angry and stubborn. She started to shake her head, but they were both surprised by the old lady.

  Mrs. Shapiro clutched at Rayka’s other arm and she squeaked. “No! No you won’t take her! Petunia and I won’t allow it.”

  Petunia, who liked to amuse herself by peeing on Rayka’s shoes, stuck her head out and growled to protect her mistress’s friend. Deacon leaned in and growled back.

  It was official—he had snapped. He was now a crazy man.

  Petunia let out a whimper and disappeared into the recess of the bag, Mrs. Shapiro recoiled, and Rayka hissed, “Deacon!”

  Her eyes shot to the camera, still cheerfully rolling. He didn’t care. Fuck it. “With me. Now.”

  At first, she tugged against him, and he thought he’d have to flip her over his shoulder and drag her off like some caveman. That should work to ruin the store. In the end, she relented and allowed him to yank her across the store to the office. He pushed Chiquita out of the office and slammed the door, sliding the lock home.

  The silence unfolded around them and all he could hear was his harsh breathing. Rayka’s seemed to be keeping tempo with his. “Deacon—”

  He didn’t let her finish. He couldn’t. Over and over in his mind he saw it. Saw Ted put his arm around her. Saw his fingers play along the flare of her breast. Saw the surprise and anger cross her face and then it re-looped for him. The internal movie from hell.

  He shoved her back against the wall, her shoulder hitting the edge of the shelving unit. He pushed the delicate black pants down over her hips. She struggled under him until he shoved her panties down too, snatched the whole mess free of her and pushed his finger into her cunt. Wet. She was wet. It was the only bit of information that seemed to matter.

  “No,” she said. “Deacon, I will talk to you but I will not—” Her voice lost its clipped rhythm and bled into a moan as he shoved another finger deep and flexed them. He located her G-spot, swollen and eager, and pushed his fingers against it. His teeth found her nipple through her blouse and he bit without thinking. The only thing in his head was a single word, the soundtrack to the movie from hell.

  Mine, mine, mine...

  “No, no, no,” she said. But even as the words drifted from her lips, her leg came up and hooked around his waist. Her back arched and she let him bite her a little harder.

  Deacon didn’t wait or ask. He slid down his zipper and pushed the head of his cock against her for just a moment and then slid home. Later he would explain and confess and woo. Right now he needed to fuck.

  “Mine,” he said in her ear and yanked her up, seating her on his thrusting pelvis, pushing her against the wall as he fucked her. Her breath was wispy and fast. But the other sounds, the moans and sighs, reassured him that he would not suffocate her.

  He squeezed, his fingers biting into the supple flesh of her ass. Her heat clenched around him. This sweet pussy was his. Only his. And he had to come so he could erase the homicidal feeling. He had to claim her and then he would be able to think like a man and not an animal.

  He yanked the exaggerated V of her blouse down, pushed aside her bra, and bit the other breast. Not on the nipple this time, but on the lush flesh above her heart.

  “Oh, God.” She came around him, her long leg yanking him tighter, deeper. “Deacon.”

  He was right behind her, keeping his teeth pressed into her soft skin while he came. “I love you,” he said as the last of him emptied deep into her. “There. I love you. I don’t know why. I don’t care. You are mine,” he said and let his head fall against her shoulder.

  After a moment, she played her fingers through his hair. She shh-ed in his ear and rubbed his back softly, like he was a child. She kept her legs wrapped around his waist, her sex clenching every so often, soft echoes of her orgasm. “Shhhh,” she said and that was when he realized he was trembling. Not just from exertion but from emotion. “It will be okay,” she said.

  Funny, but he believed her.

  Chapter 20

  “I lost Lisa and our baby and my urge to ever have any of that again,” he finished. Then he downed a
shot of cold vodka from the office freezer. The party was still going strong. Rayka had checked. She was fairly certain everyone was sticking around to see what had happened between them.

  “Deacon, I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry that all of this made you feel pain again.”

  “There is no again, Rayka. It’s always been there, in some form or another. In varying degrees. Women were conquests. It was a simple formula, really. Pick the hottest ones I could get into bed easily and had no chance of developing any feelings for. And then you marched into this dumbass candy store and my track record went to hell.”

  She felt so bad. Horrible. And yet a bright spark of happiness lit up in her chest. She had thawed him out. Awakened something in him and there was no denying that was special.

  “Now see, I feel the urge to say I’m sorry again.”

  “Don’t be silly,” he said and pulled her down into his lap. He smelled like vodka, sex, and chocolate. A not too terrible combination.

  “We should get back to that party now that we know you love me and I love you. We have to go show everyone that we’ve made nice. And we need to rename the store.”

  He nodded but didn’t move. His arms pulled taut around her waist and held her fast. He wasn’t quite ready to let go and Rayka liked that. “Or we could just sit here,” she joked softly.

  “They can wait. Just give me a few more minutes to hold you.”

  She felt him growing harder under her. His cock pressed boldly against the crack of her ass. She laughed. She couldn’t help it. “I have to get you out of here before you get all caveman again, though. You are a machine. We need to make a break for it.” She laughed.

  “Nonsense,” he said nuzzling the back of her neck.

  “What are you going to name the shop?” she asked to change the subject.

  He pressed his erection against her ass and groaned. “I’m sure we have time for just—”

  “Deacon! Focus.”

  “Fine,” he grumbled but cupped her breasts with his big hot hands to make sure she knew he was still boss. “I’ve been thinking a lot about that. The name. What brought me here to the shop was sad, but I met you. I had to lose my last family to end up in a position that we found each other.”

  “True. Go on.” She liked to see the sensitivity in him. The thoughtful nature. Though she knew damn well he’d deny it existed in him with his dying breath.

  “And then the feelings you stirred up in me made me have to relive hell. Those years of my life where I thought death might be better than life.”

  “Right.” She kissed his forehead and his hands slid along her, stroking.

  “But meeting you made me feel again. And made me—dare I say it?—feel happy.” He laughed softly and licked up the back of her neck until she shivered. “Are you sure we just can’t—”

  “Deacon. The name?”

  “Bittersweet,” he said and pulled her close.

  “Good name,” she said. She let herself sink back against him and feel safe. It was nice to feel possessed and safe and small. The feeling of surrender when she was in his arms was new to her. She cherished it. She also thought it might take quite a while for her to figure out why.

  “Now I need one more thing from you,” he said and pinched her nipple. Rayka felt her body respond. She felt her pussy grow wet again and clench around nothing in memory of the orgasm she has just experienced.

  “Later. I mean it. We have got to get back to that party.”

  “Not that,” he said, “but I’ll hold you to that later. I need a designer.”

  “You do?” She turned in his lap and kissed him. His tongue was hot and demanding.

  He broke the kiss first, traced the line of her cheekbone with his finger. “I really need a new color scheme,” he said, grimacing.

  “Oh, come on. Hot pink and black and white and gold doesn’t just scream, ‘Deacon James’?” she teased.

  “Not so much. I’m looking for something just a touch more masculine.”

  She held her fingers a fraction of an inch apart. “A touch?”

  Deacon grabbed her wrists and flung her arms wide until they were nearly bent backwards, “A touch,” he countered. Then he went in for the kill and nipped her neck briskly. “Mine,” he growled against her but this time his tone was a bit playful.

  “Yours,” Rayka agreed and smiled. “I’m thinking lime green and cranberry with a nice zebra print.”

  “Not even for you,” he growled and bit her again.

  The End

  ABOUT SOMMER MARSDEN

  Sommer Marsden’s work has appeared in dozens anthologies and on numerous websites. Some of her favorite books include I is for Indecent, J is for Jealousy, L is for Leather, Spank Me, Tie Me Up, Whip Me, Ultimate Lesbian Erotica ‘08, Love at First Sting, Open for Business, Tasting Her, Hurts So Good and Yes, Sir. She is also writes The Seekers novellas for Eternal Press and is the author of The Anniversary Party for Whiskey Creek Press Torrid. She lives in Maryland and keeps her alter ego to herself. Not really. She had a big mouth and knows how to use it. She has many addictions and has no intentions of getting help for any of them. They currently include red wine, writing smut, long walks, the downward dog position, emails, blog hopping, and biscotti. You can reach her at hot4sommer@yahoo.com or visit her at SmutGirl.blogspot.com to keep up with her dirty ramblings.

  If you enjoyed BITTERSWEET, you might also enjoy:

  DOUBLE BOOKED

  By Sommer Marsden

  All Blyth wants is a nice relaxing getaway from her wreck of a life and ass of an ex. What she gets is a double booked condo with the playboy from Hell. First she walks in on him in the middle of very loud sex. Then she gets caught looking. And God help her, she’s turned on. Unfortunately, he’s on to her and he calls her on it.

  Anthony is rude, infuriating and definitely a player. Blyth knows she’s in for an anything but relaxing vacation if she’s going to have to share quarters with the likes of him. What Blyth isn’t counting on is being sucked into his vortex of sex or the fact that he seems to be able to push her past boundaries she didn’t even know she had. Somewhere in the midst of his parade of girls and huge ego is a real man. Who has real hurt. And the real part of him is calling to her. First with temptation, then with sex and then something more. She’s just not sure if she’s strong enough to answer.

  Warning: This title contains graphic language and sex.

  Excerpt From DOUBLE BOOKED:

  “Blyth,” he said with a nod, walking past me as if he were wearing a three piece suit instead of nothing. “I didn’t know you were awake.”

  I think I squeaked. And I tried not to stare blatantly at his naked, swinging cock. It was a compulsion, though, the more I tried not to stare at it, the more forcefully my gaze was drawn to it.

  “You like what you see?” he snickered, turning from me and pouring two mugs of coffee.

  Oh, shit. Two mugs. June.

  “I um…I wasn’t expecting to see anything!” I snipped, trying to draw up some anger and failing miserably.

  “Sorry. Like I said, I didn’t know you were up.” He turned, impressive cock swinging gently with his motion. Though, flaccid, it was nothing to sneer at, that was for sure.

  “I’m up here,” he chuckled and handed me the second cup of coffee. I took it silently. A bit confused. A bit embarrassed. A lot turned on. Apparently, it had been way too long since I had been laid.

  “Sorry. I just haven’t seen one-” I bit back the words. Damn, damn, damn. Why did I insist on speaking aloud?

  “This big? This nice?” His green eyes twinkled with humor as he relaxed against the counter. Completely at home in his nakedness.

  “In a while,” I finished softly. “It’s been a while.”

  “So you and this guy. What happened with him?” He sipped his coffee. Black. Nothing added.

  I busied myself locating the sugar and milk. Doctoring my coffee. Anything not to stare at his dick. Though I wanted to. “We broke up,” I mumbled,
putting the sugar away. “ I went to pick up my SUV. He had borrowed it to help a friend move. I thought he was out with the boys. When I opened the back to see if I had left a book back there, he was in there. With one of my friends. Sheila. He was fucking Sheila.”

  “I’m sorry. That’s a shitty way to have things end.”

  I nodded. Sipped my coffee and turned to say something. Something intelligent like, thank you. But my eyes went right back to his crotch as if tugged by an invisible string. Instead, I said, quite briskly, “Where is June?”

  “I sent her home. We’re not a couple. Just dating. A bit of fun while I scope out this job and find a place to live.”

  I was staring openly now. Under my gaze, his cock jumped. Twitched. Grew and lengthened. He was getting off on me looking. I was getting off on his getting off. I shook my head to clear it and cleared my throat. “Sorry. I guess naked men do me in all of the sudden.” I tried to cover with a casual laugh. It was more of a nervous trill.

  My breath froze when he said softly. “Blyth, would you like to watch me?”

  I nearly, stupidly asked, watch you what? I didn’t have to. As he said it, his large fist slid along the shaft of his growing cock. He stroked hard as the plump head went from a blushing pink to near purple. His eyes never left mine.

  I swallowed. Felt my eyes widen. My heart stutter. I was mesmerized by the sight of his big hand on his big cock as he stroked. Slowly. Giving me time to answer. To change my mind, maybe.

  “Yes,” I whispered, though I was mortified at my answer. “Yes, I would.”