Sweet HellBy: Rosanna Leo
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.
For Andrew and Daniel, my amazing sons. One day you'll be able to read Mom's books. Just not yet.
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?