Read Online Bittersweet by Sommer Marsden - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Sommer Marsden
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resilient,” she finally finished and then shook with laughter. He held her close, liking the way her body felt happy and alive. Not tense with him. That made him feel even more at peace. Mostly, women were attracted to him but had a certain amount of fear. Awkwardness, even. Not her. She would get on her knees for him, cry for him, obey him, and then tease him mercilessly.
Like before. And look what happened that time. With that woman...
He ignored the thought and delivered another kiss. Rayka squinted up at him. “You sure you’re okay? You look awfully pensive. You don’t have to stay—”
Deacon put his finger over her lips. “No.” He barked it at her. He didn’t mean to, but she was pissing him off with that stuff. “Do not say it.”
Her eyes grew wide and she nodded. Then put her head down until he kissed her again.
“As for my resiliency, it’s you. You do that to me. I am all man and my abilities—” he chuckled, “—are directly related to the company I am keeping.”
“Hmm. I’m not sure if I buy that, but I am awfully tired and you are awfully warm and it’s getting very dark in here and...” Her voice tapered off and soon she had snuggled back against him.
Deacon pulled her closer. He wouldn’t listen to all of the arguments and worries his brain was suddenly pulling out. He would just be with her and not think. Deacon draped her leg over his and tucked her head under his chin. He gave his own yawn and watched the fire die down to nothing but embers. “Rayka,” he whispered, knowing she wouldn’t hear or answer, “you snore, baby.” Deacon closed his eyes and let himself relax.
He woke to a note and a hot decanter of coffee on the kitchen table. She had even taken the time to lay out some croissants, a bottle of honey, some butter and jam.
I didn’t want to wake you. You looked so cute. Eat up and have a great day. I’ll see you tonight. Dress well. Mrs. S. likes her men refined. Remember it’s all your fault.
XOXO
Ray
PS: I like my bruises. I don’t know why.
His cock jumped at that. The postscript. She liked the marks he had left on her. He wondered if she would admire them in the mirror. Push on them with her fingers. If she would prompt the skin to sing with a little bit of pain so she could remember the pleasure that had followed.
He hoped so. He read the line again and smiled. Actually, he was almost certain she would.
Chapter 13
“I cannot believe he did this to me,” Rayka muttered. “I was duped. Roped into this party. He better look good.” She slid the black skirt into place and topped it with a wrap-around blouse in shades of roses, mauve, and cranberry. Black sling-back heels and a big pair of hammered silver earrings and she was set. Hair up? Down?
She piled it up on top of her head and shoved a few clips in. She was going for stylishly messy but ended up with a wind tunnel effect. She put it down and it strayed in several different directions. She flopped on the bed and dialed Mo.
“Is he there?” her best friend hissed. Caller ID strikes again.
“No. I am having a hair crisis.”
“Windy day crisis or Medusa crisis?”
“Medusa.” Rayka snapped her fingers. Snap , snap , snap . When she felt really stressed, she craved a cigarette, even after all these years, so she snapped to keep her hands busy.
“Oh shit. Do you need me to come over? I have a straightening wand and I’m not afraid to use it.” She heard Mo chomping and then the resounding pop of her bubble gum. God. Maybe she needed to chew some bubble gum.
“As tempting as that is, I don’t think there’s time. We’re due there in less than a half an hour. Deacon should be here to get me any minute now.”
“Did you try piling it up?”
“Yep.”
“So it didn’t turn out like that time at Josh’s Labor Day cookout?”
“Nope. More like Christmas 1999.”
“Dear God, I’m surprised you didn’t just hang yourself from the shame,” Mo snorted. “I’m sorry.
Like before. And look what happened that time. With that woman...
He ignored the thought and delivered another kiss. Rayka squinted up at him. “You sure you’re okay? You look awfully pensive. You don’t have to stay—”
Deacon put his finger over her lips. “No.” He barked it at her. He didn’t mean to, but she was pissing him off with that stuff. “Do not say it.”
Her eyes grew wide and she nodded. Then put her head down until he kissed her again.
“As for my resiliency, it’s you. You do that to me. I am all man and my abilities—” he chuckled, “—are directly related to the company I am keeping.”
“Hmm. I’m not sure if I buy that, but I am awfully tired and you are awfully warm and it’s getting very dark in here and...” Her voice tapered off and soon she had snuggled back against him.
Deacon pulled her closer. He wouldn’t listen to all of the arguments and worries his brain was suddenly pulling out. He would just be with her and not think. Deacon draped her leg over his and tucked her head under his chin. He gave his own yawn and watched the fire die down to nothing but embers. “Rayka,” he whispered, knowing she wouldn’t hear or answer, “you snore, baby.” Deacon closed his eyes and let himself relax.
He woke to a note and a hot decanter of coffee on the kitchen table. She had even taken the time to lay out some croissants, a bottle of honey, some butter and jam.
I didn’t want to wake you. You looked so cute. Eat up and have a great day. I’ll see you tonight. Dress well. Mrs. S. likes her men refined. Remember it’s all your fault.
XOXO
Ray
PS: I like my bruises. I don’t know why.
His cock jumped at that. The postscript. She liked the marks he had left on her. He wondered if she would admire them in the mirror. Push on them with her fingers. If she would prompt the skin to sing with a little bit of pain so she could remember the pleasure that had followed.
He hoped so. He read the line again and smiled. Actually, he was almost certain she would.
Chapter 13
“I cannot believe he did this to me,” Rayka muttered. “I was duped. Roped into this party. He better look good.” She slid the black skirt into place and topped it with a wrap-around blouse in shades of roses, mauve, and cranberry. Black sling-back heels and a big pair of hammered silver earrings and she was set. Hair up? Down?
She piled it up on top of her head and shoved a few clips in. She was going for stylishly messy but ended up with a wind tunnel effect. She put it down and it strayed in several different directions. She flopped on the bed and dialed Mo.
“Is he there?” her best friend hissed. Caller ID strikes again.
“No. I am having a hair crisis.”
“Windy day crisis or Medusa crisis?”
“Medusa.” Rayka snapped her fingers. Snap , snap , snap . When she felt really stressed, she craved a cigarette, even after all these years, so she snapped to keep her hands busy.
“Oh shit. Do you need me to come over? I have a straightening wand and I’m not afraid to use it.” She heard Mo chomping and then the resounding pop of her bubble gum. God. Maybe she needed to chew some bubble gum.
“As tempting as that is, I don’t think there’s time. We’re due there in less than a half an hour. Deacon should be here to get me any minute now.”
“Did you try piling it up?”
“Yep.”
“So it didn’t turn out like that time at Josh’s Labor Day cookout?”
“Nope. More like Christmas 1999.”
“Dear God, I’m surprised you didn’t just hang yourself from the shame,” Mo snorted. “I’m sorry.
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