Filthy Gods_American Gods

by R. Scarlett

“And you think indulging in each other will help?”

  He cocked a ruthless brow. “I thought you were just as determined to succeed. The longer we deny this tension between us, the more unfocused we will be. And that will affect both our academic performance. Do you wish to graduate Yale and have no offers? To be nothing of importance after?”

  I clenched my teeth. “As if your grades would really affect your success,” I said out of spite. I could have sworn hurt flashed in his gaze for just a fraction of a second. I ignored it. Being distracted wouldn’t affect his future in the least, but it would affect mine. I didn’t want that. It was my absolute fear that I would lose everything. That I wouldn’t be good enough.

  And I needed to be the best.

  “Plus, you’re full of yourself to assume you distract me in any way, Nathaniel,” I added, staring him straight in the eyes. “You don’t distract me.”

  I lifted my chin, back as straight as a board, trying in vain to even our heights.

  His full mouth twitched and his eyes gleamed and he stepped forward, destroying any space between us.

  My breath hitched and I swallowed any shock and glared back at his mocking gaze.

  His fingers picked up a fallen dark strand and smoothed the curl on the pads of his fingers. “You play with your hair in class. Untying it from that tight ponytail and letting it fall down your back.” His fingers moved to the elastic band holding my hair back and I gulped as he slid it down, letting my hair fall across my shoulders. A shiver ran down my chest, my nipples hardening. I fought to keep his warlike gaze. He wanted to destroy me, he wanted me to fall and cave-like savages were seizing an empire.

  “And then you run your fingers through it,” he said, brushing my dark hair back, his fingers scraping my scalp, the sensation stirring the heat growing in my lower stomach. “These dark sable strands. So tempting, so arousing. I imagined how silky your hair would feel in my hands.” His hand curled around my hair and gripped it. He leaned forward and I turned my head, but not before I realized too late I had exposed my neck to the enemy.

  His mouth fanned across the skin of my neck and when his lips pressed down, I gasped, my pulse beating like a drum under his mouth and I knew he felt it.

  He groaned deep in his throat and moved his lips farther up until they touched my earlobe. And then his hand still curled in my hair, yanked the strands back gently. A warning. “Would you fight me the whole way through if we fucked? Even when I’m deep inside of your pussy, owning, possessing you? My cock swelling, leaking inside of you? Would you fight me for making you come even then?”

  I bit my lip but the moan inside of my throat escaped and when his teeth scraped along my earlobe, tugging, nipping, I gripped his shoulder and shoved him back.

  I panted, glaring at him as he grinned, rolling his shoulders back. “Distracted, sweetheart?”

  I went to open my mind and deny his words, but he was faster than me.

  “Don’t deny it, sweetheart, I bet your pussy is wet for me as we speak.” At my silence, a smirk curled his lips upward. “It is, isn’t it?”

  I gritted my teeth, my skin flushed bright pink because of him. Because of his words, his body—his mere existence.

  “Okay,” I whispered, meeting his eyes, hoping he felt the fire burning inside of me. His fingers touched the edge of my jaw and slowly, he traced up to my hairline. I felt him everywhere and I couldn’t stop the trembling beginning in my limbs. He’d keep my secret and we’d rid ourselves of what was between us.

  “Until the end of summer, you’re mine,” he muttered and his head dipped, but his lips lingered on mine. “Swear it to me, Juliette.”

  I swallowed thickly, my lips bumping against his own. “I swear.”

  “Swear what, Juliette? I want to hear you say it.”

  Asshole. “I swear I’m yours until the end of summer.”

  And then like a savage, he took my mouth in a bruising kiss.

  One of urgency and need and elegance.

  I didn’t back down though. I kissed him back, my tongue battling his, my teeth nipping at that bottom lip I had fantasized about during our UN Model debates.

  He groaned at the back of his throat when I dug my nails into his broad shoulders, anchoring me to him and he fought back by gripping my hips.

  When he pressed me to him, I felt his hardening length in his slacks.

  He let my mouth go and just as I was about to protest, his lips found my jaw and traveled down my throat. He took his time, kissing me in places that no man in my past had given so much attention to.

  He pressed me against the bookshelves, the wooden structure and binds of the books digging into my back.

  “What if someone comes in?” I asked between a kiss.

  He nipped at my neck. “That might happen. The boys should be returning shortly.”

  “What?” I yanked at his jacket. “I need to go. I can’t be seen here alone with you.”

  He straightened, glowering at me, but reached into his pocket and handed me a key. “Come to my suite tonight. Around midnight. Don’t be late.”

  I stared at the golden key in my palm and looked back up at him. His lips were swollen and pink and his perfect hair a bit tousled. Those ocean eyes darkening the longer I stared back at him.

  My chest clenched at the sight.

  “Fine,” I bit out and turned, not looking back.

  As I made it back to the kitchen, I paused at the sight of Gabe.

  His hands were shoved into his pockets and he watched me. I couldn’t read the look he was giving me, but it made my breath hitch.

  Slowly, he turned and went beyond the dark double doors, most likely to join Nathaniel.

  I shook my head.

  I had agreed to a summer affair with my boss’s son and biggest rival.

  A deal with the enemy.

  Outside the suite, my bravery died on my tongue. I paced, knotting my fingers in my dark hair. I was giving him my dignity, but then he was the one keeping my dignity safe from the rest of the world. Our world. Or rather: his world.

  While the rest of my class partied and consumed their weight in booze, I was studying or working or trying to do both at the same time.

  I wasn’t like them. I wasn’t handed my success. And if that meant giving in to him, then so be it.

  I had thought it over while I mopped the kitchen floor. Nathaniel was like a pressure point in my body. One look from him, one scalding hot glance, and my body reacted to him like oil and fire. We were combustible and a destructive force to both of us.

  Whenever I was anxious, I went for a run. It helped relax me. I did it before every debate and I’d done it before coming here. But despite the exercise, the nerves still jolted through me.

  I pivoted on my toes and faced the white door once more. The centerpiece in the middle stated it was the Dior suite.

  The same room he’d caught me cleaning in.

  I rolled my shoulders back, hiked up my chin and steeled my features. I was going in for war.

  I pulled the key from my bag and slid it in, turning the knob slowly.

  As I entered the darkened room, I heard the waves crash against the shore and looked at the white sheer curtains blowing gently in the summer breeze.

  Standing in the center of the open balcony was Nathaniel. His suit jacket was gone and I scanned his torso, the white dress shirt fit nicely to his frame. The sleeves were rolled up, exposing the smooth skin of his arms and each time he moved them, veins bulged.

  My mouth watered at the sight of the Adonis.

  I thought of my study of ancient art and all I could picture was one of those Greek or Roman statues. Nathaniel, I hated to admit it, was sculpted by an artist who had taken the time to carve out delicate, but sharp cheekbones and lips that always looked swollen but soft. Eyes so vivid and dark that he must have stolen the clear night sky.

  I had been careful before, never allowing my mind to wander too far away from my goals and never indulging in a fantasy of Nathan
iel, but now that I had him before me and I knew we were going to use each other to destroy the lust between us, I ate in every detail.

  And I was starving.

  When I reached his face again, I noted he had been scanning me also.

  His jaw ticked and he moved closer, leisurely, but with a clear goal in mind.

  Me.

  He stopped right in front of me, his head tilted so his eyes looked down at me. “You smell like fresh air.”

  His voice was gravelly and low and it went straight to my core. He angered me, but he made my body pulse simply with a look, a twitch of his full mouth or a move of his lithe, dangerous body.

  I ran a few fingers through my damp hair, playing with the ends. “I went for a run on the beach.”

  His eyes narrowed. “To calm your nerves?”

  I pinched the inside of my palm, hating how easily he read me. Just like in our debates. The arrogant asshole.

  “Yes,” I bit out, figuring there was no point in lying.

  “Pity.” His vivid eyes darkened, a corner of his mouth quirking ever so softly no one would have been able to detect it. But I had. Because I had spent the last three years analyzing his every move, his every word as we competed. “I like you rattled.”

  Anger boiled inside of me and it took all of my energy not to snap back at him.

  Because that was what he wanted.

  “Afraid you won’t be able to keep up? To handle me?”

  My pulse jumped and I glared up at him, ignoring his full mouth smirking at me.

  Sex wasn’t something that could be learned from books. It had to be an experience and I was sure he had more than me. But I wouldn’t falter. I wouldn’t let him scare me away or make me feel like I wasn’t good enough.

  “Stop talking,” I said, lowly, staring up at him through my lashes.

  His smirk faded and his jaw muscles flexed.

  His fingers spread along my cheek and settled on the edge of my jaw. Slowly, he tilted my head to the side, exposing my neck to him. I visibly swallowed and the longer he stared, the more I knew he could see my pulse jump under my skin. He was dissecting me, slowly, carefully—in a way no man had ever done.

  Exposed wasn’t the right word for how I felt.

  Naked.

  Vulnerable.

  To my enemy.

  His finger pressed into my jaw and I shifted, clenching my legs together as my center throbbed in need.

  His thumb touched the edge of my bottom lip and I watched as his eyes grew dark and hard. “I’ve always loved imagining this smart, elegant mouth wrapped around my cock.”

  My spine straightened, even as the trembles took over. I breathed out, hating how heavy my chest felt.

  “On your knees,” he whispered, his eyes flicking to mine. When I stayed stiff before him, a challenge burnt in them.

  I wanted to snap back, I wanted to curse him, but I couldn’t help the excitement building in my core. Flutters filled my stomach.

  Instead of just fury, I felt aroused by his tone, by his commanding voice and touch.

  Months ago, hell, hours ago, I would have slapped myself for admitting that.

  But before him, trapped in his gaze, I couldn’t deny it.

  I had fixated on Nathaniel Radcliffe as my enemy. He became a force that pushed me further, made a powerful energy thrive inside of me to meet him for every challenge.

  I’d never thought of him as a… lover.

  “You’re a conceited son of a bitch, Nathaniel Radcliffe,” I hissed out as I lowered myself, the skin of my knees meeting the cool marble slabs.

  “I know.” He gave me an amiable smile, standing in front of me, his crotch level with my face, hands stuffed into his pockets in a relaxed posture. One I was accustomed to. “A prick. An asshole. But you like that about me.”

  I gritted my teeth, meeting his eyes so far above me but shaking under his gaze. I knew he could see down my blouse, see the tops of my breasts heave under my harsh, quick breaths.

  “I don’t like anything about you,” I said, wanting to sound cold, but I only sounded breathless.

  A corner of his mouth twitched. The beginning of a rare smile. “Yet here you are, on your knees in front of me, for an entirely different reason than last time, Juliette. Didn’t you say it would never happen again?”

  My eyes narrowed as I shut my mouth. I couldn’t argue with that.

  “People are malleable, sweetheart. Predictable,” he said, his gaze scanning my features. His eyes narrowed as he paused. Like he was searching for something, something he knew I’d willingly give to him. “But you surprise me.”

  I stayed perfectly still, but I couldn’t help the little bit of pride filling me. I also doubted it. With every word Nathaniel spoke, he had a hidden agenda, a hidden meaning that only he knew and again, I felt left in the dark as he laughed at me.

  “Stand up and lean against the couch. Facing away from me,” he ordered and I frowned but stood. Had he just wanted to see me on my knees again?

  Son of a—

  I walked to the upholstered white leather couch, too perfect to even touch, and gripped the back of it.

  “Bend over, Juliette.” His husky voice echoed in the room. “Experto crede.”

  Trust the expert.

  My throat grew dry and slowly, I leaned forward. I knew as soon as I did, he would see my ass cheeks and the plain white panties I was wearing. He’d see the wet spot between my legs.

  “I don’t have any fancy undergarments,” I said, mortified that he’d see me in plain underwear.

  “I don’t care about your clothes, sweetheart; I care about what’s underneath them,” he said, his voice full of confidence that made me even wetter.

  He didn’t move for a moment, but I heard him humming to himself.

  “You’re wet for me, Juliette, and I haven’t even touched you,” he whispered and I jerked when I felt his pant legs brush against the back of mine. Too close. I groaned, twisting my head to try and catch his expression. “Don’t move.”

  I froze, gritting my teeth.

  “Did you get aroused by us talking? By kneeling for me?”

  I squeezed my eyes shut, my thighs wanting to shut and stop the throb between them.

  “Juliette,” he whispered. His body shifted closer and I felt a large, warm hand travel from the back of my neck, down the expanse of my back, over my skirt, and to my bare legs. “Answer the question.”

  “Yes,” I gasped out.

  His palm ran up along my bare leg, fingertips caressing me over my panties for a brief second before he flipped up my skirt. I bit my lip, stopping a moan before it could escape.

  “You always wore skirts when you worked at the library. Flimsy, black skirts that danced around your thighs. Such a tease, always such a tease,” he tsked, his voice low and rumbling in his chest as his fingers edged closer to my aching core once more. When they traced along my underwear line, I arched back against him, feeling his large erection against my ass.

  “They weren’t racy,” I fought back. “Just black skirts.”

  “Simple. Elegant. Nothing that should’ve turned me on, but they did. Seeing the fabric dance around your thighs, threatening to expose you at any moment…” His free hand crept around my hip and held it, his fingers digging into the hip bone. “And when you bent down to search the lowest shelves for books…your long, toned legs bare, I wanted to bite your thighs.”

  I heard the rustle of fabric behind me, the warmth of his legs disappearing. Then, I felt a sharp bite on my inner thigh accompanied by a deep growl, seconds before a tongue came out to soothe the bite away.

  I moaned against the couch, the erotic touch of his tongue making me damp and needy and all his.

  But as much as I hated to admit it, it wasn’t just Nathaniel’s touch that turned me on, in fact, he’d barely touched me. His words, his words alone had the power to ignite me.

  His golden words.

  His mind had aroused mine even before his body had.
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  Another thing I hated to admit: I loved his voice. I loved and hated the way he spoke so calmly, his voice suave and seductive, never wavering. There was always a glint in his eyes as he used words to strip his opponent down to nothing.

  His warm breath teased me over my panties and then disappeared just as quickly.

  Nathaniel hooked his fingers around my panties and began to slide them down my thighs, my arousal now fully exposed to him.

  He hummed appreciatively and I jerked when a finger teased me. Caressing each lip, but never quite touching where I needed it most. Within seconds of his merciless teasing, I was breathy and agitated and too aroused to function, rolling my head back and forth.

  “Stop teasing me,” I hissed into the pristine cushions.

  “Tell me why I should,” he said and his own voice betrayed him for a moment, showing how aroused he was. Dark and low and husky.

  His hand palmed me but applied no pressure and I growled. “I’m not arguing with you now.”

  “Tell me why I should fill you with my cock,” he continued and I rolled my head back, moaning when one of his fingers finally edged in my opening.

  “Because…” I paused, trying to catch my breath and my dignity. But my dignity was long gone now. “You know fucking me will make you come harder than ever before.”

  His breathing grew heavy and he twisted his finger deeper. “Tell me more.”

  “I’ll let you do whatever you want. I’ll let you be in control,” I whispered.

  He added another finger and I winced. “Good?”

  I nodded, biting my bottom lip as he worked his fingers in deeper.

  He was knuckle-deep inside of me now and I rocked shamelessly against his strokes. The sound of my own wetness, so blatantly obvious and dirty, didn’t even faze me. I was passed the point of caring.

  I heard his zipper and when his breathing turned husky, I knew he was stroking himself.

  A long, strong finger appeared at my lips, and he growled huskily, “Open.”

  I did, and his finger slid in, the salty taste of his precum on my tongue.

  “Close,” he rasped. My lips closed and I sucked hard, tongue swirling around his finger to catch every drop of his taste. His thumb pressed down on my clit in reward, and my hips bucked.