Sweet Hell
Authors: Rosanna Leo
Atlantic Bridge
www.atlanticbridge.net
Copyright ©2012 by Rosanna Leo
First published in 2012, 2012
NOTICE: This work is copyrighted. It is licensed only for use by the original purchaser. Making copies of this work or distributing it to any unauthorized person by any means, including without limit email, floppy disk, file transfer, paper print out, or any other method constitutes a violation of International copyright law and subjects the violator to severe fines or imprisonment.
CONTENTS
* * * *
Published by Liquid Silver Books, Imprint of Atlantic Bridge Publishing, 10509 Sedgegrass Dr, Indianapolis, Indiana. Copyright 2008, Mara Lee. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the authors.
This is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents and dialogues in this book are of the author's imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is completely coincidental.
Blurb
Dionysus, Greek god of wine and theater, is the world's original playboy. But lately, he has been restless, moody, and he knows something is wrong. His carefree and bacchanalian lifestyle is starting to feel like one long string of meaningless sexual escapades. Even worse, he is suddenly aroused by the idea of marriage. To top it all off, Josie Marino, the mouthy, disheveled, and eternally annoying woman who serves him coffee at the local bakery, sets him on fire.
Josie, a Toronto baker of Italian heritage, is not looking for love or lust. Especially not with Dionysus Iros, the most aggravating, demanding customer she'd ever had to serve. With his rippling muscles and sexy, knowing eyes, he's obviously trouble with a capital T. Unfortunately, he's also the star of her every X-rated dream. She's known players like Dionysus before, and one of them almost got the better of her. Josie determines she will not fall for his considerable physical charms, come hell or high water.
But Dionysus turns strangely protective when a sinister character arrives at Josie's bakery, and they can no longer deny their unwanted feelings for one another. They are forced to embark on a bizarre, sexually-charged journey to hell itself, which threatens to either change them for the better, or destroy them.
Dedication
For Andrew and Daniel, my amazing sons. One day you'll be able to read Mom's books. Just not yet.
Prologue
Mt. Olympus, Present Day
Dionysus awoke, late. Not that waking up late was a problem for him where he lived. He could wake up at midnight or at six in the morning. No one would know. No one would care.
There were perks to not having responsibilities.
He stretched his long legs, feeling the satisfying pull of muscles that never needed to be exercised. He enjoyed the sensual glide of the silk sheets as they caressed his blemish-free skin and loved the warm embrace of the best—and best used—bed on Olympus.
He yawned, stretching his arms above his head, even though he never suffered from fatigue. Then he sat up, letting the sheets fall from his nude chest, and wondered aloud, “What should I do today?” He grinned because he could do whatever he wanted.
Jumping out of bed, Dionysus ambled to his bedroom window, heedless of his own nudity. His lazy grin widening, he gazed out the window, and pondered his options. The first thing that struck him was the beauty of the view, the perfection of the never-ending vineyards he had cultivated himself thousands of years ago. He could tend his grapes today. Not that they needed tending. They'd grow even if he ignored them for decades.
That was the beauty of Olympus. He didn't need to take care of a single thing.
Still, it was nice to sit amongst the vines some days and soak in the atmosphere. Remembering how his worshippers would cart piles of ripe grapes to his temple to use as decoration and offerings. He never grew bored with sitting between the rows of vines, reminiscing while munching on the juicy fruit that was magically never out of season.
And yet, he just didn't feel like enjoying the fruits of no one's labors today. He was restless and had been for some time.
In the old days, he would have summoned his maenads, his bevy of female followers. They would have organized a drunken revel in his honor and partied all night. He chuckled at memories that would have scandalized most humans.
In the modern world, it wasn't exactly politically correct to encourage maenads in this behavior. Nowadays, his girls would only end up in twelve-step programs.
No. There had to be something else he could do.
An image popped into his head, that of his cousin Eryx. He hadn't seen Eryx for a while. Indeed, he'd only visited him once or twice since his startling ... transformation. He wondered how he was doing, and if he was still as happy as Ares at a bloodbath. Yes, he'd visit with Eryx, and with his new wife Maia.
He smiled, pleased. “Well, look at that. I have a plan."
There was a giggle behind him. Two feminine giggles, in fact. And then a sultry summons. “Dionysus."
He turned, one dark eyebrow arched. Before him, in all their delicious glory, stood two naked water nymphs. Two of his favorite playmates. He looked them up and down, his eyes lingering on the moistening curls between both sets of heavenly legs. His cock leaped to attention. “Ladies."
He nodded toward the bed, and the nymphs scrambled in, laughing in delight the whole time. Dionysus sauntered over slowly, his plan for visiting Eryx now wholly forgotten. What was the use of being a god if you couldn't change your plans at the last minute anyway?
"I'm so glad you could join me, ladies,” he said upon reaching the bed. “I was just trying to decide how to spend my day."
He rolled onto the bed, onto his back, and as soon as he felt the two delightful tongues sliding down his abdomen, he closed his eyes.
Oh, yeah. Life was good.
Toronto, Canada, Present Day
Still grinning from his morning interlude with his nymphets, Dionysus walked the streets of Toronto, now fully clothed. As soon as Adelpha and Aminta had finished their delectable ministrations, he'd begun to feel guilty about abandoning his plan to visit his cousin. After all, Eryx and Maia had been through a lot lately. And so, after politely encouraging the departure of the pouting nymphs, Dionysus had waved his hand and arrived in the bustling city of Toronto where Eryx now made his home.
He and his wife lived in a detached house off St. Clair Avenue in the Italian section of the city. The kind of place that was perfect for raising a family. As Dionysus strolled through the area, he cringed.
"Raising families,” he muttered. “Gross."
Still, it was a nice neighborhood, full of little mom-and-pop bakeries, gelato shops, and discount stores. Not exactly Mt. Olympus, but he knew Eryx was impossibly happy.
Which was good, considering what he'd been through.
He spied their street up ahead, but something else caught his attention at the same time. A smell. No, a perfume.
Coffee. He smelled strong coffee.
Determining the source of the gorgeous fragrance, he turned toward a little bakery, taking note of the name on the battered awning. Marino Brothers Bakery. Tempted, he walked inside and took a good look at the place. It was cute, kitschy, with salamis and breads ready for slicing, and row upon row of sinful-looking pastries behind the glass counter. There was a hot table with slabs of tender veal warming in homemade sauce. And, with a grin, he noticed a huge espresso machine at the other end of the counter.
Practically paradise. Eryx and Maia could wait a few minutes.
He paused before one counter, where a couple of beefy men were arguing over who was supposed to serve the next customer. But when they didn't bother looking up, Dionysus just sat at the counter before the coffee machine.
Instantly, a female employee appeared before him. “Can I help you?"
He looked up at her. His cock soared, doing a rowdy dance of happiness.
What the...?
He looked at her again. He didn't know why he'd have such an intense reaction to her. By the gods, she looked ... dirty. Well, not truly dirty, just very floury, as if she'd been baking all day. But underneath the layer of flour smudges was indeed a woman. One with lush curves and shiny, tawny hair and hazel eyes that were so keen they seemed to recognize him...
Her eyebrows rose when he didn't answer. “Would you like a sandwich? A coffee, maybe? Anything?"
Say something, you idiot!
And yet he couldn't make his lips work.
The tip of her tongue darted out to wet her bottom lip while she waited for his response. Once again, his penis thumped against the inside of his pants, more erect than the soldiers outside Buckingham Palace.
Talk to her
, it seemed to say.
She looked around. Other customers were filing in, and the two men behind the counter were still arguing, ignoring the lineup. A small noise of exasperation escaped from between her wet lips. “Maybe I should just give you a minute."
The woman turned away.
"No,” he called and then cursed himself for sounding so eager. “I, uh, coffee would be outstanding."
He could tell she was trying hard not to look at him as if he were simple. “Coffee it is,” she said. It seemed as if she grinned—not because she wanted to grin at him, but because customer service dictated she should. And then she escaped to prepare said coffee.
Dionysus sat in shock. What the hell was wrong with him? There had never been one moment in his life when he hadn't been smooth and disarming. Yet with one glance, this coffee girl had completely disarmed him!
And she wasn't his type at all. For one, she was so industrious it was giving him a headache just to watch her. While the coffee brewed, she ran back and forth behind the counter serving all the customers the two men had ignored, filling boxes with donuts, ringing up orders with quick efficiency. She was a whirlwind.
But a very messy one. By Zeus, there were crumbs in her hair and blotches all over her T-shirt and sweatpants. When he compared her to the sexy nymphs who'd just been dampening his bed with their sweat and other choice bodily fluids, there was no comparison. This bakery girl needed a serious makeover.
And yet every time she sprang past, his dick gave a salute, as if acknowledging her as its commander.
Interesting.
She poured his coffee and headed back toward him, a curious look in her hazel eyes. As she walked, her boobs bounced so nicely his mouth went dry. The glorious bounce of full, silicone-free breasts.
How refreshing.
As she laid the coffee before him, he felt a ripple of excitement in his gut. “What's your name?” he all but barked at her.
She narrowed her eyes. “Josie. Josie Marino."
He swallowed, struggling for something to say, desperate for a reason to keep her there. “Oh. Of the Marino Brothers Bakery?"
She rolled her eyes. “I'm just the sister.” She darted a look at the ineffectual buffoons behind the counter, then back at him. “And you are?"
"Dionysus Iros.” He thrust his hand at her, while images of another kind of thrusting pillaged his head.
She was about to take it, but noticed a glob of dough between her fingers. After wiping it on her apron, she shook her head. “Sorry about that. Nice to meet you. I haven't seen you here before."
And then the most interesting shadow flitted through her expressive eyes. As if she was contemplating asking when he'd return, but was afraid to.
He grinned, channeling every ounce of his love-god charm. “No, but I'm sure you'll see me again, Josie."
She blushed deep scarlet, and then smiled. The most intriguing smile he'd ever known. Shy and curious, tinged with doubt and temptation.
He was just about to offer to take her home and give her a much-needed scrub when he heard a squeal behind him.
