The Kiss Game: Dark New Adult Bully Romance (Twisted Games Book 1)

by Esme Devlin

  He’s going to do it. Do I care anymore? I’m not sure.

  But he continues kissing me, grinding against me but never putting it in. My legs open for him and before long my fingers slide their way around his neck, up through his hair.

  He’s warm. His body is warm but his heart is cold and dead.

  It doesn’t feel dead right now though?

  Since I don’t know what I’m doing, I let him control me. And whatever he’s doing to me feels perfect. I feel it building inside me, the little tiny sparks catching and glowing now.

  And then his hand covers my breast, his fingers dig in, and it’s like he’s just poured petrol over that fire.

  My hips buck of their own accord and my back arches, giving him more. Giving him whatever the fuck he wants.

  He must sense what I need, because his head moves down, trailing hot kisses along my neck, along the curve of my breast, until his tongue connects with my nipple.

  He laps it up and I melt into his touch.

  All the while the voice in the back of my head tells me this is wrong, stupid, insane. I’m playing with fire. I’m going to get hurt.

  But I don’t think I care anymore.

  I was already hurt.

  Malachy doesn’t treat me like I’m a china doll, too precious not to hurt. He treats me like I’m a rag doll — made to be thrown around and carelessly played with.

  And I like it. I fucking like it. I tell the voice in my head to shut the fuck up and dig my nails down hard into his shoulders, trying to give him the same feeling he’s giving me.

  He shudders while his teeth clamp down hard on my nipple and I moan in pain, dragging my nails down his back. He releases me only to come up and catch my mouth, forcing his tongue inside and almost crushing my skull between his hands.

  I’m so fucking hot and needy, and I don’t even know what the fuck I need. I need whatever he’s giving me.

  “Please,” I mumble again, into his mouth. This time I’m not pleading for the same thing I was earlier. This time I’m pleading for something else.

  He rolls off me, not taking me with him and I feel lost without his weight on top of me. I’m trying to catch my breath, my chest rising and falling quickly when his hand comes up and rests on it, directly above my heart.

  “I don’t break promises, princess. Sweet dreams.”

  I wake up to the sound of the door opening and the faint glow of the lamps in the hall trickling in from the door.

  It’s tomorrow. Monday. I can go home now.

  The door shuts again, and the room plunges into darkness, but he quickly flicks the bedside lamp on and I eye him up through the drapes.

  He’s wearing the same black overalls he had on at college last week. I sit up in bed watching him.

  I don’t know what to say or do, or how to behave. Does he still hate me? I think so, after everything he’s done until now. And after last night.

  But why would you kiss someone like you did last night if you hated them?

  Then I quickly realize I should be asking myself the same question.

  He crosses the room and returns with a pile of folded up clothes. “Lucia’s,” he says, nodding at them. “You don’t have time to go home before college.”

  I clear my throat. It’s so fucking dry. “Do I have time for a shower?”

  He shrugs. “If you move your arse. Do you want a coffee?”

  I blink a few times in surprise. This is the man who wouldn’t even lend me a measuring tape without bitching about it, and now he’s offering to make me hot fucking beverages?

  “Please.” The word comes out as a croak and I clear my throat again.

  He nods once and leaves the room, and I wonder what the fuck I’m supposed to do. He didn’t tell me where the shower was?

  So I lie there in his bed for ten minutes, waiting for him to come back. My clothes from last night aren’t on the floor, and I don’t want to dirty the fresh ones he’s just given me.

  The bed smells like him and I can’t help thinking about him the whole time I’m waiting.

  I’ve thought about him a lot this past week. Probably a lot more than is healthy. I can only assume that’s why I reacted the way I did last night.

  I was emotional. I wasn’t thinking clearly. He dragged up a whole load of shit taking me back to that place and I was scared and vulnerable.

  It’s natural that I would cling to him.

  But I don’t feel half as scared and vulnerable now as I did last night.

  When he returns he has a coffee in one hand and a towel draped over his arm.

  He walks around the bed and puts both of them down on the table beside me and then crosses the room towards the back wall.

  There’s a picture hanging there, a painting of trees with a huge moon high in the sky. I’d noticed it last night and looked it over. He slides it across the panel to reveal a cutout in the wood with a handle inside it, and then uses that to pull the whole panel forward and slide it to the side.

  When he walks right through the hole he just created and switches the lights on, I see it’s a bathroom.

  I fucking knew there would be a secret door and I was right. I almost laugh — proud of myself. I hear the sound of the shower go on and a few moments later he returns, rolling his sleeves up and checking his thick black watch.

  “You’ve got about twenty minutes ’til we need to leave.”

  I nod my head.

  He nods back.

  And then he leaves me in peace again.

  Sure that he’s not going to come back, I flick the covers up and swing my legs down off the bed, although they don’t touch the floor. The coffee is good. Strong, but it’s not the cheap value store-brand shit that we buy.

  I take a few hot sips to wet my mouth and then tip toe, stark naked, across the large room with the towel in my hand.

  The shower feels divine against my aching muscles and I spend as long as possible getting myself clean before I figure I have to get out. I don’t wash my hair since I don’t suppose he has a hairdryer, but I use the body wash that’s sitting in the corner and chuckle to myself because it doesn’t smell all that different from the fake one I used to use.

  Bet it cost ten times as much.

  After I get dried and dressed, I try the door, and to my surprise it’s not locked.

  I hesitate for a moment, wondering if I should go down the stairs or wait here for him, then I wonder why I’m being such a fucking pussy and make my way down the hall.

  The place still gives off creepy as fuck vibes but I’m getting more used to it now. I stand in the grand entrance hall, wondering where I should go, when I hear voices coming from one of the smaller hallways.

  Following the sound, I stumble across the kitchen and he’s sitting at the kitchen table while Lucia stands at the kettle.

  “Ready?”

  “Yes,” I tell him, my eyes wandering over to Lucia. What will she make of this? And is she in on it, or am I supposed to be pretending we’re together in front of her, too?

  So many questions I can’t really ask, but since she barely bats an eyelid at me, I assume that Malachy must have told her something.

  “Let’s bail then,” he says, standing up and making his way across the kitchen. He barrels passed me and I step out of his way to avoid the impact.

  We make our way out of the house and as soon as we reach the courtyard I see my car is gone.

  “Fuck’s my car?”

  He chuckles but doesn’t turn around, he just keeps walking towards the side of the house. “You mean your mum’s car?”

  “You know what I mean,” I bite back, following him.

  “Your mum has it, dropped it off and posted the key this morning.”

  He unlocks his car and gets in, and I stand there at the front end of it watching him. The engine turns over and he revs the car a few times, smirking at me through the darkened windscreen.

  “Don’t worry your little self,” he says, the second my arse hits the seat
. “I’ll drop you off home, too.”

  “No need. Scott takes me home on Mondays,” I tell him.

  He pulls the car away and I watch his face as a smile plays across it. “Kind of man would I be if I didn’t drop my own Mrs off?”

  “You’re really fucking serious about this, aren’t you?”

  He turns his head, glancing towards me and cocks his eyebrow. “Deadly.”

  “It won’t work.” I cross my arms over my chest, feeling braver now that I’m only locked in a car with him in broad daylight, and not a bedroom in near darkness.

  “Well, you know what happens if it doesn’t,” he replies with a shrug.

  I’m not scared of that anymore. Do I want to fuck him? No, not really. But I know last night I would have. Last night I wanted to. The threat doesn’t scare me half as much now.

  The threat to my mum’s business? Would he do it? Could he?

  I’m not sure.

  But I shut up, anyway, deciding to choose my battles, and we drive the rest of the way to college in near silence.

  Chapter 18

  Malachy

  It’s lunchtime. I just got here, sat my arse down at a table with Craig, but my eyes are everywhere.

  Where the fuck is she?

  The group we’re sitting with talks around me and I could not give any fewer fucks. If she’s avoiding me on purpose, I will blow my top.

  All over her face.

  Kidding.

  But she’s not here, and that annoys the fuck out of me.

  Then just as I’m about to get up and look for her, she strolls in with her pal, Kate I think her name is, and I watch her as she scans the huge room — probably looking for me.

  I’m not exactly one for blending in, so it doesn’t take long for our eyes to lock.

  I gesture her over, but she shakes her head and walks away, finding herself another table.

  I’m easy. I’ll chase her all she wants.

  Giving Craig a nudge with my shoulder, I flick my head in her direction and stand up. He follows me; he’s been briefed on what’s happening.

  The pair of us cross the room and when I approach, I take the tip of her ponytail in my hand and bend down, catching her lips and staying for only a second.

  When I pull back her eyes are wide, but not as wide as her pal’s mouth.

  “How was your classes?” I take the seat next to her.

  She hesitates for a minute, looking at her tray of food, and then turns her head towards me — a big fake arsed smile plastered right across it. “Great darling. How was your classes?”

  “Great, darlin,” I tell her, smiling right back.

  She narrows her eyes at me, still smiling, and I wonder who’ll break the stare first. But it’s the both of us who break it.

  “Grace?” Scotts voice. We both turn around at the same time.

  “This table’s already taken, mate,” I tell him. It’s not. There are three empty chairs, but none of them are for him — or Jamie fucking Gallacher.

  “What are you playing at?” He’s a strange mix of angry and uncomfortable, and when Jamie shows his face behind him I don’t think there’s a single fucking thing that could make this moment any better.

  Well, I tell a lie. She could bend down and start choking on my cock in front of him. But that’s bordering on the realms of fantasy.

  “Me? Why don’t you ask your sister?” I turn around and look at Grace. She’s sitting back in her chair, eyes on her tray. She could at least make it look fucking believable.

  Then she must feel my eyes on her, because she perks up a wee bit.

  “If you don’t like eachother, maybe it would be for the best if you found another table?”

  Hmm. Not bad at all.

  I turn back around to Scott and his mouth is hanging open in shock. Thank fuck there are no flies about, because this table would be shitting them out for days.

  “Grace?” He hesitates, as if waiting for her to elaborate. When she doesn’t, he clears his throat and lowers his voice. “Are you forgetting what he did to you?”

  “It was an accident.”

  Weeew. I almost whistle. Fucking go girl.

  Jamie says nothing, he’s not so big with his stories now I’m sitting meters away.

  Scott, not one to shy away from acting the big man, comes around and grabs a hold of her arm.

  The action sends a bolt of white hot rage shooting through my muscles, but I fight it back. Grace can give it out as good as she gets, so I choose to let her… for another eight seconds.

  “Scott, let go. This has nothing to do with you.”

  “You’re my wee sister. It has everything to do with me,” he says.

  I applaud his efforts, but he’s wrong.

  Deciding I’ve had enough comedy-gold for one day, I stand up right beside him, taking a hold of his shoulder while he holds Grace’s arm.

  I’m taller by a good few inches — wider too. Scott’s like a soccer player, lean, while rugby would be my sport — if sport was something that had ever interested me. And by the look in his eye he already knows this is one he would lose.

  “Take yourself to fuck, Scott.”

  “No.”

  I smile at him, watching him hang on for my next words.

  Words are a powerful thing. If used correctly, they have the power to destroy a life much better than a fist, or a knife, or a fucking rock. But sometimes it’s the things you don’t put into words that have the most power.

  After a long pause, I relax my stance and drop my grip on his shoulder. “Don’t force me to go there. We both know that wouldn’t be smart.”

  He looks behind me, catching Jamie’s eye. Fuck knows what he sees there, but he lets go of Grace’s arm. “I’ll see you tonight,” he says to her, before walking away.

  I take my seat again next to Grace and she looks at me.

  “Does someone want to fill me in on what the fuck just happened?”

  Grace goes to open her mouth, but I get there first. “Don’t think Scott’s quite come to terms with the fact little Grace here isn’t so little anymore.”

  She looks from me to Grace, screwing her face up. But she must decide to either drop it, or save it for later because she quickly shuts her trap.

  And the rest of lunch goes down like that. I talk to Craig, she talks to Kate. Occasionally I rest a hand on her leg and turn around to watch her cheeks flush and her voice wobble a wee bit.

  It’s nice. Uncomfortable. Just the way I like things.

  Kate shoots Craig daggers every so often across the table and honestly it’s cute as fuck. The sisterhood is strong.

  A few minutes before classes start I tell her I’ll catch her at the car this afternoon, and then I take myself outside for a snout.

  The air is crisp and fresh, it’s sunny but not so warm. I’m not even half way through it when Scott appears.

  “You McCormacks just can’t keep away from me, can you?”

  “I’ll ask you again and this time I don’t want any bullshit, what the fuck are you doing?”

  I exhale smoke and the wind carries it over to his face. “Me? I’m doing your sister.”

  “Why?”

  I shrug. “Because I want to. Because she wants to?” I chuckle. “Well, most of the time, if you catch my meaning.”

  His shoulders tense and he searches my face. “Grace is different. She’s… fragile.”

  Really? She doesn’t seem so fragile to me.

  “You don’t need to tell me about your sister’s anatomy. We’ve been acquainted for a long fucking time.”

  “You’re fucked up. Big time fucked up. I don’t know what the fuck you’ve done to her, I don’t know what she’s doing, but I’m telling you now it won’t last. I’m not going to let you break her again.”

  I laugh at that one. What the fuck is he going to do to stop me? I’ll break all three of them.

  I finish the rest of my snout and crush it into the tarmac under my steel toe boot. “She was already broken
mate, remember?”

  Then I walk away, shouldering him as I go and almost knocking him down off his feet. What the fuck is he going to do?

  Nothing. That’s what.

  Chapter 19

  Grace

  “You kept that quiet?”

  We’re walking along the passage, the same one we were in last week when we decided I should make amends and tell him I forgive him. The fucking irony.

  I trust Kate. I was going to tell her just as soon as we sat down to lunch but Malachy showing up put a pin in that. And now I don’t think I want to tell her.

  I don’t want to drag her into this. To get her involved. I don’t need yet another person in my life worrying and fretting over literally everything.

  “I was going to tell you, I just didn’t get the chance,” I explain.

  She cocks her eyebrow at me as she walks. “You said you were going over there to tell him it was water under the bridge?”

  I swallow, trying to keep my voice straight through the lies that are about to flow freely through my mouth. “I did. He explained his side, apologized for the way he acted. He’s actually alright under all that… outer shell.”

  Her eyebrow seems to go even higher, if that’s possible. “I don’t see it.”

  “I went over again on Sunday. He asked me out on a date and I decided to give him a chance.”

  I almost laugh in my own head at the thought of Malachy Hunter dating. He does not come across as someone who dates girls. He looks exactly like the fuck em and dump em type.

  We’re almost at the point where we split off to go to our respective classes and my pace speeds up, trying to get there faster before she can ask any more questions and I have to answer with more lies.

  “Listen, I’m not judging. I mean I know I called him the grim reaper, but he’s kinda handsome — in a weird way. I just think he’s a prick, and if there’s one thing I know all too well, it’s that pricks will always find a way to break your heart. You fall for them too fast, and the scars are too deep.”

  I know she’s just looking out for me. She gave up her V card a couple of years ago to a guy who put the wrong number in her phone the next day. Kate is sensitive to pricks.