Bittersweet

By Elisabeth Roseland

She’s the one they’ve waited for. But they may have waited too long...

Ebony Nights, Book 4

Carla Dabrowski thought a kinky affair with her boss would provide the thrill she’s been missing. What a mistake. Not only is her desperately needed factory job at his mercy, she’s still got a lonely hole in the middle of her life.

That’s when a friend pushes a black business card into her hand, and Carla finds herself opening the door to a whole new world of possibilities—courtesy of two hunky, handsome escorts.

It was just another job for Derrick and Andre. But the moment they enter the darkened home that once belonged to Carla’s parents, they feel a powerful emotional
pull. Unfortunately, the guys know the cardinal rule of escorts. Keep it strictly business—or risk losing the job that pays the bills, but lately has left them questioning their lives and futures.

As the three of them dance around the edge of commitment, only one thing holds them back. Fear. Until one brutal encounter with the past threatens to destroy all hope of a happily ever after times three.

Warning: Contains two close-to-retirement-age professional escorts (Yeah, like 30? That’s old...), and a melancholy redhead with a longing for something sweet, dark, and chocolaty.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Elisabeth Roseland
• Release date: May 18, 2017
• ISBN: 9781941732052

Elisabeth Roseland

Elisabeth Roseland spends her days dreaming up ways to throw sexy heroes and strong heroines together. Her characters explore the wonderful, agonizing, joyful, heartbreaking and complicated human experiences that are sex and love, with a little fantasy thrown in for good measure. She also hopes to inspire readers to grab the nearest consenting adult and do something fun. She lives in Chicago with her very own Happily Ever After.

Book preview

Bittersweet

Elisabeth Roseland

Dedication

To Christian, who takes all the bitterness out of life and makes every day sweet.

To Christa, who made a ménage writer out of me. Oh, how sweet it is.

Chapter One

Carla inhaled deeply from her cigarette and blew a cloud of smoke over her naked body. It dipped and swirled around the bed before dissipating.

I hope I didn’t hurt you, said Sean, glancing at her as he buckled his pants.

No. She lightly touched her neck. It wasn’t even sore. I told you to squeeze harder.

I didn’t want to kill you.

Carla snorted. You wouldn’t have. She rolled over and crushed her cigarette out in the ashtray on the nightstand. There was silence as both of them dressed. Carla slipped a ragged T-shirt over her head and stepped into her oil-stained jeans. She knew she had to do it now. It was time.

I don’t want to do this anymore.

Sean looked at himself in the mirror hanging on her closet door and ran his hands through his tousled hair. Do what?

Do this. See you anymore. She paused. I mean like this.

What? Why? He turned to face her.

She hadn’t practiced what she was going to say, but there were many reasons. Because…because this was a bad idea. Because this isn’t working. Because you’re my boss.

His smirk was full of power. So? Nobody knows. It’s not a big deal. Come on, babe. He reached for her, but she stepped away. His blue eyes grew cold. Hey, quit fucking around.

That’s exactly it, Sean. We’re quitting fucking around. We’re done. Get out. She met his flinty stare.

His hands balled up into fists, but she stood firm. He’d never hit her before, but there was always a first time. He took a deep breath, the tension in his body relaxing. Fine, he gritted through his teeth. This was some bullshit anyway.

He stormed out of the bedroom and down the creaky stairs. She followed, listening to him cuss his way through the house. He threw open the front door and dried leaves gusted into the entranceway.

When he turned, his face was crimson. You’d better watch yourself. Don’t let me catch you fucking up. One misstep and you’re gone. He stepped out into the cold night, slamming the door behind him.

Carla began breathing again when he disappeared. She snapped off the light, plunging the front of the house into darkness, but easily made her way over the familiar floorboards to the kitchen. Two things were on her mind—a beer and a phone call.

Did you do it? Angie’s voice strained with concern.

Yeah.

And how’d he take it?

Carla sat at the kitchen table and cracked open the can. He was pissed, like I expected. But whatever. It’s over now.

Angie exhaled. I’m glad it is. Dating Sean wasn’t the best idea you’ve ever had.

I know. I don’t know what I was thinking.

You were thinking about that nice ass of his and the dimple when he smiles.

Yeah, when he’s not yelling at us.

Which is like, never.

Carla took a sip of her beer. Surprisingly, over the last three months he was not a complete and total asshole. There were even a couple of days there when I actually liked him.

Angie groaned. You liked fucking him. Be real.

Carla snorted. Okay, yes. I did. But the sex wasn’t enough. And most of the time he was still an asshole.

You know he’s going to be worse now.

Yeah, I know. He already threatened to fire me. She shifted her cell phone to her left ear and grabbed the pack of cigarettes on the table. The small flame from the lighter pierced the gloom and was replaced by an ember glow as she inhaled.

That motherfu—

Like I give a shit. I hate that job anyway. The smoke swirled around the dim kitchen.

Yeah, but you need it. She said nothing, not wanting to admit Angie was right. Hey. Angie’s tone lightened. Did you at least fuck him one last time before you broke up with him?

You know I did.

Angie laughed. Did he do the thing you wanted to try? The, uh, shit. You know what I’m talking about.

Erotic asphyxiation. Yeah, he did it a little. He was too afraid he’d kill me though. Maybe I should have broken up with him first. Then he’d have no problem doing it real hard. She tapped her cigarette on the edge of the ashtray.

Angie snorted. You’re crazy, you know that? She paused. So how are you doing? And don’t bullshit me. Tell me the truth.

Carla looked around the dim kitchen. The light from a streetlamp in the alley threw awkward shadows around the room. I’m doing all right. I guess that wasn’t the thing, you know?

Having an affair with your boss wasn’t quite the experience you were looking for, huh?

No. It wasn’t.

So what is it? What’s the thing?

I don’t know. But that wasn’t it. The end of her cigarette glowed as she inhaled. Angie remained silent on the other end of the phone. I’m looking for something, Ang. But the damn difficult thing is that I don’t know what it is. I want something in my life I can feel good about. And not just feel good for the next five minutes. Now don’t get me wrong. Being with someone who’s not an asshole would be a good starting place. And getting off on a regular basis would be nice. But I’d like something more. Something that sticks with you after it’s all over, you know? Something that makes me feel… she searched for the right word, …alive.

Sounds like you want love.

Hell, no. Been there, done that. Trust me. That’s not the thing either.

Angie chuckled. I hear ya. Well, if anything good came out of this, it’s that you realized Sean is definitely not what you were looking for.

She yawned. Definitely not. And speaking of Sean, we’d better get some sleep. He’s got us both working at the ass-crack of dawn.

Yeah, I know. Night.

Night. Carla hung up the phone and polished off her beer before dropping her spent cigarette into the empty can.

Chapter Two

Someone kicked the sole of Carla’s shoe as she crouched under the conveyor belt.

What the hell do you think you’re doing?

She continued to tighten the loose bolt. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, Sean, but this thing is busted. It’s supposed to be moving, you know.

I know, and I also know it’s not your job to fix it. So get the hell up. He kicked her shoe again.

With one final twist, the entire belt started up again. Several of her coworkers cheered. There, she muttered, wiping her hands on her pants as she stood up. I know it’s not my job, but Steve was taking too damn long to get here, so I decided to fix it myself.

He glared at her. It’s not your job to make any decisions. It’s your job to put the candy into the box. Do you think you can handle that?

She stared right back at him. Yeah, I think so.

Good. Now go wash your hands before you touch anything. He spun around on his heel and headed for his office.

Carla ripped off her paper apron and hair net, throwing them into the trash before storming into the ladies’ room. The bathroom walls muffled the rumble of the conveyor belt, and she took a moment to relish the relative silence. The back of the stall door felt cool as she leaned against it. There was a small window high above the toilet, and even through the cracked and warped glass Carla saw a few fluffy clouds zipping across the sky.

Hey. You in here, C?

She opened the door to see Angie leaning against the sink. Yeah. What’s up?

I think I found something you might want to try next. Mischief danced in her eyes as she held up a black business card.

Carla crossed her arms. Try next? What are you talking about?

Angie tapped the card with her finger. This is an escort company. An all-male escort company featuring the most gorgeous black men the city of Chicago has to offer. And you need to call them. She held out the card.

What? Carla snatched it out of Angie’s hand. The words Ebony Nights were embossed in gold on one side and a telephone number on the other. Angie, that’s stu—

Wait. Hear me out. I was thinking about how you said you were looking for something a little different, maybe something more exciting. So then it hit me. When my toilet runs over, I call a plumber. When my car breaks down, I call a mechanic. You know, professionals. So if I’m looking for something specific in the bedroom, someone who can deliver what I need, then I should call a professional, right?

Carla shook her head and handed the card back to her. "Ang, I’m