Hopeless Romantic

This perverse game we play could end us both.

Bully King, a gripping new M/M bully romance from Andi Jaxon is available now!

I'm the pastor's son.
He's the star quarterback for a small Kentucky high school.
While the town worships him, I pray for God to take my life.
He makes my life a living hell by making me his victim.
This perverse game we play could end us both.
How can something that feels so right be so wrong?
The price if the truth is discovered is death, but I can't stop.
Neither can he.
No one can know.
Can I risk it?
Is Roman King worth dying for?

*This story is a bully romance including dubious consent, assault, talk of suicide and is intended for readers 18+. Please proceed with caution.*

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Excerpt:

“Jonah.” My name is growled. 

Roman grabs my shirt when I spin around and pulls me into a classroom with no lights on. Did he not hear the sermon? We can’t be caught together. Expecting to hit the wall, I stumble into the gloomy room with Roman shutting the door behind me.

“What are you doing in here?”

He doesn’t answer me, just grips my shirt again and pushes me against the wall where we won’t be seen by anyone walking past the door and he’s pressed against me. His lips are harsh and demanding against mine. He’s pissed off, but I’m too hurt by my father’s words to be angry yet. It’ll come, but right now, my heart is heavy and broken. 

Gripping his face, I kiss him back just as hard, frantic for his touch. My tongue duels with his and my teeth latch onto his lip. He growls, the rumble of it vibrating my chest. He’s pressed against me, mouth to thigh, and hard as steel. Blood pumps through my veins, filling my cock at his closeness. 

He reaches for my pants, and I break our kiss.

“Roman,” I pant, my hands reaching for his wrists.

“Why do you come here?”

His question catches me off-guard. He’s still crowding me against the wall, his deep blue eyes searching my face for something, but it’s hard to think with him this close to me.

“Why wouldn’t I? I’m a son of God.”

Confusion leaves me open for his next assault. Roman’s lips crush mine, taking no prisoners. This kiss is hard, demanding, brutal. It’s exactly what I need. The pain, the desperation.  

I kiss him back just as hard, biting at his lips, sucking on his tongue, ravaging his mouth. My dick aches in my pants, hard, desperate for attention. Roman’s body moves against me, his dick just as hard behind his zipper. 

Reaching down, he grabs my leg and pulls it around his hip to get a better angle. His thick cock sliding against mine has my eyes rolling back into my head and he swallows my moan. 

My hands grip his shirt, pushing him away from me, forcing him to let go of my lips. We stand there for a long minute, panting, not saying anything.

“We can’t do this here.” I’m finally able to get the words out.

Roman smirks that damn look that says, “I can do whatever the fuck I want.” His hands cup my ass, forcing me to grind against him. My eyes close and a groan rumbles from my throat. 

“ Stop,” I pant. “We can’t do this here. Not in the House of God. It’s sacrosanct. It’s wrong.” 

“Does it feel good, Jonah?” Roman lips brush against my ear. “My dick against yours?”

“Yes,” I hiss through clenched teeth, pleasure overriding the common sense part of my brain.

“Does it feel right? Me touching you like this?” His teeth nip at the skin of my neck. “Huh? Does this feel perverted? Does this feel like something you can just stop wanting?”

Roman’s hand moves to the front of my pants once again, his palm pushing and stroking against my dick through my pants. My hips buck against him on instinct, wanting more.

His lips drop to mine again, shutting down all logical thought. My hands move to his hair, pulling on the gold locks he wears so proudly. 

Meet Andi

From Dyslexic kid with a love of Algebra to a published author, no one expected me to become an author. I love to write about tortured pasts and hot sex, a happily ever after that has to be worked for. My stories tend to be contemporary with a few little dark elements and some comic relief, typically in the form of sarcasm.

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