New York Gods #1
Selling my virginity wasn’t how I saw my first week of college going.
But after my parents cut me off, an offer from a gorgeous rich stranger doesn’t sound so bad.
It’s only twenty-four hours and I’ll never have to see him again.
Wrong.
Much to my horror, the stranger is Oliver Godfrey, the captain of my fencing team.
And as if that isn’t bad enough, his parents own half the city.
There is no escape from him or the way he makes me feel.
He’s everything I don’t want.
And everything I need.
A playboy like him shouldn’t look at me twice, so why is he ruining my life?
But what Oliver wants, Oliver gets, and he wants me.
He’s arrogant, possessive, and infuriatingly obsessed with me.
This can’t work.
His parents want him to marry an heiress so I can’t keep him.
All I can have is stolen moments hidden in the dark.
He's going to break my heart and I'm going to let him.
PROLOGUE
Isaac
The hot August night sticks to my skin as mosquitos bite every inch of exposed flesh they can find.
“Come on, babe,” Tim whines. “It’s been two years, and I leave for school next week. We aren’t going to get any more chances.”
With my wrist trapped in his grip, he rubs my palm against the bulge in his jeans, and I jerk back.
“Stop it. I’m not ready.” I wrap my arms around myself, clutching at my ribs like it’ll stop him from reaching for me again.
I hate how he’s pushed this since we graduated a few weeks ago. Like there’s a time limit on our virginity, and we have to have sex right now or miss out forever. We’ve been dating for two years and really only kissed. Why would that change now?
Voices carry on the humid breeze from the front of the church. Wednesday night is bible study and youth group. That hasn’t changed my entire life.
Timothy has been part of the church as long as I have, and since we started dating, we sometimes sneak out early and hide in the shadows behind the sanctuary to make out or just hold hands and talk. It’s the only time we get a few minutes alone.
“We don’t have time for you to get ready. I don’t want to go to college a virgin,” Tim hisses at me, crowding me against the wall.
My stomach twists, and I fight back the tears threatening to fill my eyes. Who the hell is this Tim?
“I promise it’ll feel good.” He smiles at me and dips his head to press his lips to mine. It doesn’t feel the same, though. It’s tainted now, dirty, like he’s just trying to distract me long enough to say yes.
If only I wasn’t so desperate to be held.
I give in a little, wrapping my arms around his waist so he’ll pretend to care about me for just a minute. He groans into my mouth and runs his hand up my neck and into my hair. A spark of arousal shoots through me when he pulls on the strands, changing the angle of the kiss, and taking control.
Tim’s free hand slides under my shirt, and I shiver. A part of me wants to be touched, wants to know pleasure, craves the physical affection, but I don’t want my first time to be a rushed groping while he hurries not to get caught. Both of our parents are inside and will kill us if they find out.
“My parents are here. We can’t.”
“I’ll come over tonight. They’ve let me stay before. They won’t know. They think we are friends.” Tim grabs my belt, and I try to shove his hand away, but he kisses me again.
I give over to the kiss, whining softly. “Tim . . .”
“They won’t know.” He shoves me back, putting his arm across my chest while his other hand works open my belt.
My heart hammers in my ears, but I don’t stop him, torn between what feels good and what I know is wrong. I’ve pushed it too far. Let this thing with Tim go on too long. I know it’s wrong and what my father will do if he finds out.
“We can’t.” I try again as Tim lowers my zipper.
Tim pulls my belt from the loops with a triumphant smile. His lips part, and he’s about to say something—
“Isaac Mathew Becker!” My father’s voice booms in a terrifying snarl.
I startle and shove Tim away from me while fear and shame leave my body quaking. Oh god, what’s he going to do?
I don’t dare look at Tim. Maybe he can back away into the shadows and make a break for it. Maybe he can tell his family it’s all a misunderstanding when my father calls his, because I know he will, and they can laugh it off.
“Mr. Becker.” Tim takes a step forward, all cowering shoulders and trembling hands. “He told me to meet him back here, that he wanted to show me something. I think he has the devil inside of him.”
The blood drains from my face, hearing the lies falling from my boyfriend’s mouth. What little pitiful hope I have falls to ashes at my feet. Quickly, I scan the crowd, looking for my little brother, Noah. I find him peeking around our mother, the horror I feel reflected on his face, but he doesn’t condone it. He’s the only other person who knows. The only person I’ve trusted with my deepest, darkest secret.
I can barely breathe through panic. Can hardly think past my instincts that have me frozen in place as my father storms over and lifts his bible in the air. I can’t move my arms or turn my back to protect myself as he hits me with the holy doctrine that tells of love and acceptance from a forgiving God.
But that’s not what they preach here.
Over and over, he hits me while my heart breaks and my world crashes down around me. I don’t notice the tears running down my cheeks or the body-wracking sobs as my parents scream scriptures. My skin burns. The sting of every impact taking all my focus.
I deserve this punishment for the sins I’ve committed.
The other members of the church hear the commotion and come to investigate, witnessing the worst moment of my life. Timothy’s parents rush him off, out of the spotlight, while my mother pours holy water over my head and prays for my eternal soul.
I’m humiliated.
Ashamed.
Terrified.
I’ve known since I started high school I’m not interested in girls like the boys I’m friends with and that I have to hide it from everyone around me. For years, I’ve played the part they forced me into. I didn’t choose any of this, yet they will punish me like I did. The mold they expected me to fit never did, but I’ve tried every single day to make it work. Finally, that perfect impression they thought I would become has shattered, and there’s no faking it anymore.
No one chooses to live a harder life.
No one chooses to live in fear of being hated by everyone around them.
No one chooses to look over their shoulder constantly, waiting for someone to attack them for simply existing.
My knees give out, and the rough, pebble-strewn asphalt digs into my hands and scrapes my shins. The fall makes my body ache, but no worse than the emotional pain my father is causing with his damnation.
At some point, it ends, and Father grabs my arm in a bruising grip, yanking me from the ground, and drags me across the parking lot. He throws me into the car and slams the door behind me with a rage so hot on his face it may leave blisters. I cover my face in my hands and bend in half, but all I want in this moment is to disappear or to stop breathing. Noah gets in next to me but doesn’t say anything, doesn’t reach for me.
He has to protect himself, too. I understand.
“You are not going to college this year,” my father shouts. “You’ve managed to stray too far from the path we raised you to follow! You’ve let the devil corrupt you and tempt the Roberts boy to follow you to hell!”
Mother sniffles in the front seat. “I thought we raised a good boy,” she cries. “What have we done to deserve a homosexual as a son?”
“And to force your perversion onto a good, God fearing boy is unacceptable!” Father roars, taking a turn too sharply, and my head slams into the door. The pain barely registers.
My father continues to berate me, telling me what a horrible person I am, how I’m going to hell unless I beg God for forgiveness and promise to never even look at another boy. My stomach twists into a knot, and my head swims. I feel like I’m going to pass out or throw up, maybe both. Maybe then he’ll leave me be. Just for a minute.
We squeal into the driveway of the home I grew up in, and before the car has come to a complete stop, the doors open, and Father grabs a fist full of my hair to yank me out. Mother is quietly sobbing as she unlocks the door and steps aside to let us pass. Using the hold like a handle, he throws me to the floor in the living room and stands over me. I curl into a ball to try to protect myself, but it doesn’t work. It never does.
“Get up!” he demands, but the fear coursing through me makes me stumble. When I fall back to my knees, he kicks me over and yells again at me to stand up. With trembling knees, I make it to my feet this time, and he smacks my cheek with his bible before shoving it at me. “You’re going to stand here and read Leviticus out loud until you can recite it from memory.”
Gray is a cynical Chicago native, who drinks coffee all day, barely sleeps, and is a little too fashion obsessed. He writes romance sprinkled with kink, and hot as hell, dark and angsty characters because everyone deserves a happily ever after.
Andi is a Northern California girl transplanted to the PNW and loving the change. Foggy mornings, coffee (hot or iced), with a hoodie on are the days. When not corralling her kids, she’s annoying her friends with random messages and memes or ghosting everyone. There is no in between. Andi has no volume control and laughs loud enough to be heard across a busy room. She writes stories that typically hurt because there’s beauty in pain and no life is exempt from it.
JR Gray
WEBSITE / NEWSLETTER / CHIRP
AUDIBLE / AUBIOBOOKS / TANTOR
Andi Jaxon
AUDIBLE / AUDIOBOOKS / CHIRP
EMAIL: authorandijaxon@gmail.com
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