Cruel Games: A Reverse Harem High School Bully Romance (Knights of Templar Academy Book 1)

by Sofia Daniel

  The following Saturday, after meeting Lachlan in the swanky, city-center apartment he shared with his business partner, Francesco, the four of us made our way to the back of the Royal Exchange toward the cathedral-like structure that housed Wank. Gideon and Lachlan walked ahead, teetering on high heels, with Lachlan offering a strong arm and a broad frame for support.

  I walked behind with Francesco, snickering at the smitten couple. My mind couldn’t help reminding myself that Kendrick was equally as keen as Lachlan, but I wouldn’t give him a chance.

  After waiting in line, we stepped into the club. Garage beats thumped from the speakers, accompanied by the staccato notes of a synthesizer. My heart thrummed with excitement, and I bobbed my head up and down to the music.

  A few heads turned at the sight of my catsuit. Miss Martin had helped me make keyhole openings where Elizabeth had cut the garment, which we held together with silver chains. I wore my hair up in a high ponytail held together by a cone made of the same mix of silver chains and PVC.

  “This way.” Francesco headed toward the chill-out room. “Let’s share a bucket of champagne before the place turns into an orgy.”

  Lachlan pressed a kiss on Gideon’s lips, earning himself a smear of shimmering, pink lipstick. With a giggle, I took Francesco’s arm, and we headed toward the quietest room in the club.

  Only a pair of kissing girls occupied the chill-out room chairs. On the dance floor, a blonde girl with pink and blue pigtails danced with two men dressed up as the Joker. We sat around a low table, sipped champagne, and talked about Lachlan and Francesco’s gym when someone tapped me on my shoulder.

  A man with spiky, bleached-blond hair towered over me. I had noticed him the last time we were at Wank, and he wore the same chainmail top as before.

  “Want to dance?” he asked.

  Francesco gave me a hearty clap on the back and whispered, “Go for it.”

  I downed my glass of champagne in one drag and pulled myself to my feet. “Don’t mind if I do.”

  The man’s gaze roved the front of my catsuit. Miss Martin and I had created two keyholes, one around the stomach and the other beneath the collarbone to give a hint of cleavage.

  “I noticed you last month,” he said.

  “Really?” I grinned, not wanting to sound too eager by telling him he’d totally been on my radar.

  We walked to the garage room where he bought me a Smirnoff Ice cocktail, introduced himself as Jim, and told me he was a fetish photographer. Before I could ask him what he meant, he whipped out his smartphone and showed me photos he had taken of models dressed in leather, rubber, and PVC.

  I gaped at his collection. All the girls were leggy catwalk types, all gorgeous, and all beautifully posed. “Are these for a fashion label?”

  “How did you know?” He leaned to the side and took in the back of my catsuit. “Are you wearing Helmut Fang? I don’t remember taking photos of anything like this.”

  I smirked. “It’s something I knocked up with the help of a woman who worked for Dior.”

  Jim gave me a low whistle. “Absolutely gorgeous.”

  The way he said it could have referred to me or the outfit. I took a swig from my cocktail and gave him a muttered thanks.

  Jim’s eyes lingered on my cleavage as he downed his lager. “Have you ever modeled, then?”

  I shook my head. “Are you thinking of luring me into your studio for a photoshoot?”

  “Actually, I wanted to lure you onto the dance floor.” He raised a shoulder. “Then back to my place for a bit of bondage.”

  I threw my head back and laughed. If he thought I would let a complete stranger tie me up, he was dreaming.

  “What do you say?” he asked.

  “I don’t do one-night stands. Ever.”

  He wrapped both arms around my waist and pulled me into his hard body. “Maybe you’ll change your mind.”

  I placed a hand on his chest and gave him a shove. He was good looking with a nice face and body, but he came on too strong for a guy who claimed to spend time with gorgeous models.

  “I’m going to have a wander around and see if I can find my friends,” I said.

  His brows drew together. “What?”

  “Catch you later.” I gave him a little wave.

  He grabbed my wrist. “But I bought you a drink.”

  I glanced down at his empty bottle. “Let’s go to the bar. I’ll get you another lager, and we’ll be even.”

  “That’s not what I—”

  “You can have two lagers if that makes you feel better,” I shouted over the music. “But I’m not going anywhere with you. Not even a dance floor.”

  Jim’s face hardened, and I gripped my bottle around its neck in case he decided to turn nasty. Just as he opened his mouth to speak, a large, muscular body pressed into my back, accompanied by a smoky, masculine scent.

  “What are you doing with my girlfriend?” asked a hard voice.

  Jim’s gaze flicked up to the owner of the body that had wrapped itself around mine. “She didn’t say she was with anyone.”

  “She’s seeing me, too,” added Orlando’s voice.

  Right then, I didn’t know whether my heart would sink or soar.

  Jim was a creepy asshole who would probably cling to me all night even after I’d bought him two drinks to soothe his dented ego. But Orlando and Maxwell’s grudge ran deep. They probably came to the rescue because they wanted to shaft me themselves.

  Jim released my wrist and raised both palms. “Sorry, guys. I didn’t know she was taken.” His gaze dropped to Maxwell’s hand, which slipped between the laces of my catsuit to caress the skin on my belly. Jim licked his lips, clearly wishing he was the one manhandling me. “I’ll be off, now.”

  “Don’t come back,” said Orlando.

  The bleached-blond ‘photographer’ spun on his heel and disappeared into the dance floor, leaving me alone with Orlando and Maxwell, the boys I had handcuffed naked to a bed and gotten suspended for nearly a month.

  Orlando stepped in front of me and grinned. He wore leather pants, boots, and nothing else.

  My gaze lingered over his bare torso of tight muscles encased in golden skin, and I couldn’t help making an appreciative smile.

  His tongue ran along his lips the same way a big bad wolf did in the cartoons when he caught his prey.

  Maxwell’s lips grazed my neck, sending hot desire rippling between my legs. My traitorous nipples tightened and protruded out of my catsuit.

  Orlando circled it with the tip of his finger, and the muscles of my core clenched.

  Fucking great. Suddenly I felt like a sausage that had fallen from the grill to the hot coals.

  Chapter 22

  “Lilah,” Maxwell purred into my ear, his deep drawl making goosebumps skitter across my skin. “You’ve been a very naughty girl.”

  Orlando rolled my nipple with his thumb and forefinger, and I let out a deep, shuddering breath.

  He chuckled. “Very naughty.”

  All around us, people bustled to and from the bar, stepping down from the crowded dance floor. In a club like Wank, two guys giving a girl up-close-and-personal attention was no cause for alarm unless she appeared distressed.

  I gulped. Right now, the only thing under distress was the pulse pounding between my legs.

  It had been weeks since I’d kissed a guy. Months since I’d climaxed under someone else’s touch. These two vengeful and wickedly handsome assholes were looking to be my downfall, and my libido was desperate to stamp out my survival instincts and common sense.

  Orlando kneaded my breasts, his hazel eyes boring into mine and daring me to tell him to bugger off. I tried slapping at Orlando’s hands, but it was like swatting at a lion playing with its food.

  Meanwhile, Maxwell’s fingers continued to caress my belly, and the part of me that was desperate for a shag wanted to tell him to stop teasing me, slip those fingers lower, and put them to use.

  “Umm…” My mind scrambled
for something to say. Hands off wasn’t quite reprimanding enough for their trespassing fingers. “Thanks for pretending to be my boyfriends, but he’s gone now.”

  Maxwell nuzzled my neck just the way I liked it. I had to bite down hard on my lip to suppress a moan. He said into my ear, “Is that the way you thank us for rescuing you from that creep?”

  I wrapped a hand around his wrist and tugged at his immovable arm. “Thanks for saving me, but he’s gone. You can release me now.”

  His arms tightened around my waist, and the fingers on my flesh made slow, sensual circles. “The three of us have unfinished business.”

  A whimper resounded in the back of my throat. This was so unfair. Why did the gorgeous assholes have to display their delectable bodies? My hand twitched to Orlando’s pecs so that I could give him a hard shove, but all I could manage was a hard grope. He had the nerve to grin in my face.

  “Look.” My tongue darted out to lick my lips, and I tried to block out the feel of their hands over my erogenous zones. “Sorry for everything that happened.”

  Orlando cupped his hand behind his ear. “What did you say?”

  “I said I’m sorry for getting you suspended. No one told me someone would monitor the school network.”

  “You did more than get us into trouble with the headmaster,” Maxwell snarled. “Our parents thought we had turned gay.”

  I glanced around at the writhing bodies on the dance floor. Over half of them were same-sex couples. “Nothing wrong with that.”

  Maxwell’s fingers stilled on my belly. “It is when your mother starts inviting a procession of gay men of the right family to dinner!”

  An image of ultra-posh guys making eyes with Maxwell from across the table pushed itself to the forefront of my mind. I pressed my lips together and choked on a laugh.

  Orlando slipped a finger through the lacing around my cleavage and slipped it into my bra. His fingertip grazed my nipple, making wetness gather in my folds.

  He leaned close and muttered, “I had to listen to daily lectures from my grandfather on the futility of taking it up the ass. Even after the headmaster told him it was all a misunderstanding, the old man wouldn’t shut up about ass fucking.”

  I turned my head away, trying to hide my amusement. “Really?”

  “By the time he let me out of the house, I was ready to fuck someone’s ass.” He eased his thumb down my keyhole and gave my nipple an extra-hard tweak. “Yours.”

  A jolt of arousal made my knees wobble. What was this, revenge by sexual torture? Were they trying to tease me to death? Because it was working.

  “Listen…” My tongue darted out to lick my dry lips. “It was me who told Mr. Burgh that you weren’t having a tryst. I confessed to setting you both up.”

  “And that’s the reason we’re not throwing you into the North Sea with a dildo up your tight, little ass,” said Maxwell.

  Another tune pumped out of the speakers. Speed garage, with rapid kick drums and a sweeping bass. The DJ yelled that it was time to get funky. I wanted to tell him I’d already boarded the funky train and couldn’t find a way off.

  I made several rapid-fire calculations. “Let me buy you both drinks. Two bottles of champagne to soothe things over.”

  Orlando rubbed his erection against my hip, the feel of his thick length, giving me a full-body shudder. “You’re going to have to give us more than a few pathetic drinks.”

  Maxwell’s hips ground into my ass, as though he was giving his best friend moral support on the sexual intimidation front. “You’ll have to be nice.”

  Grinding my teeth, I gave Maxwell a hard shove in the chest, moving him a mere six inches.

  “This is me being nice,” I snapped. “Don’t forget you twats set me up for a sex tape to get me expelled. You deserved everything you got.”

  “See what I mean, Max?” Orlando said to his friend. “She needs to be taught a good, hard lesson.”

  “More than once.” Maxwell’s fingers slipped between my legs, grazing my fabric-covered clit.

  My eyes bulged. It was as though he had flipped a switch and turned on the electricity. The most intense pleasure bolted through my core, forking out shockwaves of sensation to my every nerve ending.

  “A-alright,” I said. “What do you want?”

  “A spit roast.”

  Prickly heat crawled across my skin. Suddenly, my catsuit became too tight, the fabric too coarse. I needed to get naked. Now. “No, but I’ll give you both handjobs if you return the favor.”

  “Blow job,” said Maxwell. “And you’ll let us cum in your face.”

  I couldn’t believe I was negotiating with these wankers. “No spunk in my eyes. You can cum in my mouth instead.”

  Orlando grinned, and Maxwell gave me a hard squeeze around the waist.

  “Let’s go.” Orlando slipped his hand out of my keyhole and grabbed my wrist.

  I spluttered. “Wait a minute, aren’t you going to let a girl get warmed up first?”

  Orlando leaned into me, his teeth bared. “The same way you made us strip in front of the camera and then handcuffed us both to the bed to be your fuck machines? No.”

  I swallowed back a laugh. The way he described that night was funny as hell. I still couldn’t understand how the gullible fuckers had let me set them up.

  Guilt gave my chest a tiny squeeze. Getting them suspended and in trouble with their families hadn’t been cool. Mr. Burgh’s disappointed face pushed itself to the front of my mind, making my heart sink.

  My expression smoothed into a neutral mask. “Alright, where should we do it?”

  “Chill-out room,” said Maxwell.

  I spluttered. “In public?”

  “Relax.” Orlando squeezed my left breast. “Everyone’s usually too busy doing their own thing to notice a girl blowing two guys.”

  “No way.” I gave my head a firm shake. “I don’t want people thinking I’ll just suck anyone off. We’ll do it in private or not at all.”

  “Fine,” Orlando growled. “What do you suggest?”

  “Did you bring your limo?”

  The two boys exchanged wolfish grins. Orlando tugged me toward the exit. “Let’s go.”

  “Wait a minute!” I dug in my heels. “The night hasn’t even begun. I want to dance for a bit.”

  “Alright,” said Maxwell. “But we’re keeping you by our side.”

  I got on my tiptoes and gave them each a peck on the lips, mentally thanking them for giving me enough time to work out a way to get out of their clutches.

  “Do you still want the champagne?” I asked.

  “We can drink on the way home.”

  My face fell. Getting them drunk wasn’t an option, then.

  “Come on.” Maxwell wrapped an arm around my waist and walked me around the heaving dance floor to the nu-jazz room. Orlando slung an arm around my shoulder, letting everyone know I was their plaything for the night.

  “Want a drink?” asked Orlando.

  I held up my three-quarters-full bottle of Smirnoff Ice, making sure to take the tiniest of sips. “Are you sure you don’t want me to buy you something?”

  Maxwell squeezed my ass. “The only thing we want from you is your mouth around our cocks.”

  “And a spit-roast in the back of the limo,” added Orlando.

  I rolled my eyes. There was no point in arguing that I’d agreed to no such thing because I’d be long gone before we even got to that stage.

  A Latin-jazz number blared through the speakers. Rapid drums accompanied congas and a wicked bongo beat. A groovy bass reverberated through my bones and got me swaying my hips.

  Maxwell kept his hands on my ass as I danced, as though I might samba away into the night. I spun and wrapped my arms around his neck so we could dance face-to-face.

  His stern expression melted into a smile, and he moved in time with the music. For a moment, it felt like I’d gone to a club and met a super-hot guy with silver eyes and piercings to match. I couldn’t help
running a hand down his bulging bicep.

  “Do you like the ink?” he asked.

  “It’s the only thing I like about you.” I smirked. “That and the piercings.”

  His face broke into a wide grin. “Ken tells me you two have gotten friendly. Have you popped his cherry yet?”

  “I haven’t even put it on my to-do list.”

  The DJ melded the track into a slow bossa nova, and Maxwell pulled me into his hard body. As we swayed together to the melody, he lowered his lips onto mine in a kiss that melted my knickers.

  I should have pulled away. I should have told him I had no patience for wankers, but those strong arms around my back and the hand on my ass made me melt against him.

  Maxwell tasted of champagne, smelled of expensive cigars, and his low, pleasured groans pulled me into a vortex of lust that I couldn’t escape.

  My eyes fluttered shut, and I lost myself in the sensation of his lips, his tongue, and the light dusting of stubble across my skin.

  “You’re such a menace,” he murmured into the kiss. “Half the time, I want to strangle you and the other half I want to fuck you so hard you can only babble my name.”

  “Ummm.” I kissed back with equal enthusiasm.

  Orlando pressed into me from behind and nibbled on my neck. A tiny voice in the back of my head screamed at me that this was another trap. That they would lure me into their limo and get me into even more trouble than the sex tape.

  But as Orlando’s hand slipped into the keyhole in my catsuit, under my panties, and between my dampening folds, I ground my ass against his erection and moaned.

  “You sexy little minx,” Orlando whispered into my ear. “So wet for us.” He swayed his hips against mine, rubbing tiny circles over my clit.

  Around us, couples and triples slow danced, too preoccupied with their own liaisons to notice the two boys pressing into my front and back.

  “I can’t wait to see you on your knees, sucking us dry,” said Orlando. “Would you like that?”

  The thought of pleasuring two gorgeous guys made my core muscles clench, but it was just a fantasy — nothing I would allow myself to do with Orlando and Maxwell.

  Orlando’s finger stilled, and he was about to pull his hand out of my catsuit when I grabbed his wrist and broke away from Maxwell’s lips.