Rayka's just looking for a peace offering for an offended client when she goes into The Good, The Sweet, and the Yummy. What she finds instead is a very intoxicating man. Deacon James is more sinful than the candy he sells, and Rayka soon finds out that he can push her farther than she every thought she could go. Mentally, creatively, emotionally and yes—sexually. Rayka must remember it's okay to let him have her body, let him test her limits, but she can't let him have her heart. Besides, he's made it perfectly clear he doesn't want it anyway...
Deacon James is more sinful than the candy he sells. Testing Rayka's every limit. Mentally, creatively, emotionally and yes—sexually. – Kiki Howell
"Sommer Masden has really out done herself with this tasty, titillating tease. Without a doubt, I would read everything this author puts out from now on and will be seeking out everything on her back list!! Any one with the ability to bring emotion to life like this talented lady has my vote all the way!! *SNAPS* Ms. Marsden, I am in awe!"– Seriously Reviewed
There is nothing bitter about this book, Bittersweet. In fact this book is so yummy and such a temptation that I devoured it. Rayka and Deacon were perfect for each other. What could be better than chocolate, a hot guy and reading a good book…nothing is better! Deacon was not only sexy but he could cook. I wish he was real, so I could steal him for myself. I think I have just found my new favorite erotic author in Sommer Marsden. Bittersweet left me wanting more.– Manic Readers
"The good, the bad & the yummy. What a delicious book of lust, love & understanding."– Goodreads Review
Rayka settled just a bit but he could feel the tension in her body. He liked it. On guard but excited. He slid his fingers over her shoulders, listening to his calluses rasp on the smooth fabric.Touch me, her outfit said. So he did. He slid his tongue down the side of her throat into the hollow above her shoulder. She moaned.
"I like that sound. I like when you lose it for me. Like last night on the phone."
He heard her suck in a little puff of air. Embarrassed, he was sure. Her cheeks would be a lovely shade of red, her eyes downcast. His hands traced the dip of her waist, the flare of her hips, and then she sighed, long and low. He winced as his cock grew harder still. This would be the longest dinner he had ever endured, he was sure of it.
"What's this?" he said and he let just a bit of steel creep into his voice.
Rayka jumped and said nothing. Her moans and sighs and happy sounds had deserted her. Deacon snapped the thin elastic band with his fingers. The sound, even muffled by the dress, was sharp. The strike of elastic on skin sounded painful.
He snapped it again, harder, and she yelped. She moved to step away from him, and he clamped a hand on her shoulder and steadied her there. She stilled. Rayka didn't fight him or protest. She simply stopped in her tracks, panting for air.
"I told you no panties," he said directly into her ear. Her back was ramrod straight, her breasts rising and falling briskly. He could almost smell the worry coming off of her.
"I didn't think that—"
"I was serious? I would care? Really. Come now, Rayka, tell me that to my face. Tell me you thought I was joking. That I'd be fine with you disobeying me."
Deacon spun her to face him and there they were. Those twin blotches of color on her cheeks as if she had been smacked. "I didn't feel okay. I felt weird. Ashamed. Embarrassed. Whatever you want to call it."
"Scared? Unsure?" he rasped.
She nodded. Eyes down cast, hands worrying at her sides.
"Do you want to go to dinner with me?"
She nodded. "Oh, yes."
"Do you want me to fuck you? After dinner. Like we both know is planned?"
"What? Speak up. You what?" Now he let the animal out of its cage. He didn't pull any punches or soften his voice. He let her see how he could be when he wasn't pleased. He would never hurt her, but he would put her in her place. She had to know that now.
"Yes. Yes, I do." She dropped her head, studied her shoes.
Deacon bent and hiked up her skirt. No preamble or warning. He lifted it briskly and didn't allow himself the distraction of a long, tanned thigh or the small triangle-shaped shadow beneath the nearly translucent thong. He doubted the scrap could even qualify as panties. He grabbed one slender band and yanked. The elastic snapped with a small pop. Then he ripped the other band and the thong slid to the floor without a sound.
Rayka watched, eyes wide, and then silently stepped over her ruined panties. Her black heel caught briefly, and she kicked the scrap away. "I'm sorry, Deacon," she said. Her lips looked bruised from biting them.
He kissed her roughly and then dropped to his knees. He planted his mouth over a small welt where the broken elastic had snapped back against her pale skin.
Rayka sucked in a breath when his tongue touched her skin. Deacon could tell by the way she shifted her thighs that she was wet, ready. That she was fighting the rising urgency. He knew because he felt it too.
Deacon kissed gently over her hipbone for just a moment and then smoothed her dress down over her naked body. He kissed her neatly trimmed pubic hair though the fabric and fought the primal urge to drag her to the ground and fuck her right there. Not now. Later. He could wait and she would have to.