Filthy Gods (American Gods, #0.5)

by R. Scarlett

He was only twenty-one and with all his advantages: wealth, family name, looks, and grades, he had it all in one powerful fist.

So the god bleeds.

He was a mere man, I knew that, but he and his friends were treated like gods. It didn’t help they looked like it, too. Intimidating, perfect and deadly.

There was something untouchable, something holy and unholy about the boys. Sacred and sinful all at once. Bastards of Grace. Fame, wealth and power poured out of them. They were the things of legends and myths.

They were desired, they were stalked and chased, and they loved it.

“Women don’t distract me.” He moved closer and we only had a tiny space between us. I could feel the heat from his large body and my knees shook. “You distract me, Juliette, and I need to remedy that as soon as possible.”

“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?”

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.

“I don’t care about your clothes, sweetheart; I care about what’s underneath them,”

“Raw then. Nothing but our skin,” he whispered.

He stroked my quivering slit one last time, mixing his cum with my own wetness. “No more—I can’t.”

In the darkness, I saw Nathaniel Radcliffe’s rare smile. His white teeth bright and straight. The smile of a winner, someone who got exactly what they wanted.

A smile stung his mouth. “Good.” He looked far too smug. “I’m the only bastard who gets your wrath.”

Gods fell in love with mortals and demolished them piece-by-piece.

He never let others control him. He never let others dictate his time or presence. He was steel and iron. Forged and unbreakable.

He didn’t say a word. He didn’t move and simply stared. But his stare alone said more. He had been jealous.

“Tell me you’re mine, Juliette. Tell me who owns this pussy for the summer.”

I was the maid; he was the owner’s son. I was a poor girl; he was a god. He wasn’t mine. He would never be only mine.

There’s only one person I want to eye fuck—or fuck at all—and she’s standing right in front of me.”

“Life is ten percent what happens to you; ninety percent is how you react to it. I chose not to engage.”

With one look from me, he stepped closer and took my face in his powerful hands. His ocean eyes, dark and hard—held the universe in them. A universe he was offering to me. Then he stole my mouth, my body, and my mind all at once under the Fourth of July fireworks.

Somehow, I had given him my body, my soul, and now my heart.

“You’ve been fucking me with your eyes all night, Juliette,” he whispered, dragging his nose up my neck once more. “Did you think I wouldn’t do something about it?”

He shrugged out of his blue designer jacket and placed it over my shoulders, trying to hide my torn dress shirt.

I had fallen for a god and I had to give him up to keep his immortality.

“What are you looking at?” His smile widened. “Just the girl Nathaniel has been obsessing over for what feels like centuries.”

“If I want to be your husband one day, I know I’ll have to negotiate every single day to keep you happy,” he said, smiling one of those rare smiles I adored.

I wanted her anger, I wanted her frustration and respect. And I had it. All of it.

“You’re not allowed to touch me for another seven months. You got me pregnant! On purpose!”

“I love you, I love you, I love you—you bastard,” she whispered between kisses.

stomach. “I love you now. I love you always. Marry me tonight. I’ll make an honest woman out of you before we scandalize my mother any more than we already have. Calling you Mrs. Radcliffe will make me one happy bastard.”