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

by Esme Devlin

  “I guess I wanted to understand you more than I wanted to run away,” I tell him. That’s the closest thing to the truth I have. Even if I didn’t quite know it at the time.

  He laughs though. “You think you can fix me?”

  “I think whatever you think needs fixing is just for show. It’s not really you, deep down.”

  Shaking his head, he stands up from the bed. “Then you’ll find out just how wrong a little girl can be. Maybe it started that way, but whoever I was before you slipped and fell on that rock is gone now. It died that day.”

  “It doesn’t have to be like that,” I tell him.

  “You can’t go back and change the past.”

  You can’t, but you can change the future. And I want to change his future. Does that mean I want to fix him? Kate’s words ring in my ears. But this is different. I was part of the thing that broke him.

  “You don’t need to. You need to let go of it.”

  He turns around and looks at me, picking up a lock of my hair and putting it behind my ear. “Why would I do that when everything I want is right here?”

  “What do you mean?”

  He ignores the question and continues to look at me. The candelabra he lit is behind him, I can barely even make out the blue in his eyes. His hand circles around to my neck and he takes a fistful of my hair. Instantly I’m forced back at an angle, my bent arms the only thing stopping my head from hitting the mattress.

  “Malachy, what do you mean?” I repeat the question and his face changes, as if he was just in a daze but now he’s coming out of it.

  “I want to hurt you.”

  “You said you wouldn’t,” I tell him.

  He shakes his head. “Wrong. I said I wouldn’t fuck you. Big fucking difference.”

  He’s right, he did say that. But he also offered to take me home. I’d felt so at ease in his company earlier, and when he said he’d take me home I didn’t want to leave. I wanted to stay with him. I wanted to feel the weight of his naked body on top of me again. The thrill. The adrenaline.

  “Are you going to break that promise? Our deal?”

  He smiles and forces my head all the way down to the mattress easily. I can’t fight him. He’s too strong.

  “Well you broke the deal, didn’t you?”

  “I did. The question was, are you going to?”

  He lets go of my hair now that he has me where he wants me and slides his body over mine. He’s on his hands and knees, there’s no weight on me. But I feel crushed my his intense stare anyway.

  “Do you want me to?”

  I don’t know. I almost wish he would make the choice for me. It doesn’t help that I don’t know what the fuck it is I’d be agreeing to want. Maybe I should? And then that way, I’ll know for sure?

  So I nod my head. Even when I’m nodding, I can’t be sure I won’t regret this.

  “Say it,” he says.

  “Yes.”

  He bends down and runs his rough jaw across my cheek.

  “You want me to fuck you?” His fingers trail across my stomach between our bodies and he undoes the button on my jeans. “Break you?” He lifts my top up, baring my skin and sliding his hand under the band of my bra. “Hurt you?” He finds my nipple and catches it between his two fingers.

  And suddenly I’m sure.

  “Yes,” I say the words, even though I’m ashamed to admit it. I do want this. I want to know what it feels like.

  His face comes directly above mine and he smiles. It’s not smug or nasty, it’s a happy smile. Like he’s pleased with himself. “That’s exactly why I’m not going to.”

  And with that, he jumps off me, getting up from the bed and ripping his top up over his head. I sit up on my elbows watching him.

  “What?”

  “You heard me,” he says, flicking his chin up while he throws his t-shirt down on the floor. “Strip, we don’t have clothes in my bed.”

  I sit up properly and watch him. He doesn’t want me? The thought of that hurts a whole lot more than it should. Why would he do that? Why would he force me to watch that girl down stairs, take me to his bedroom, pin me down on his bed?

  Why would he ask me for fucking consent if he wasn’t going to do it?

  “You’re a prick,” I tell him, standing up.

  “Get your clothes off, I won’t tell you again.”

  I freeze on the spot because I’m sick of his shit. “No. I want to go home.”

  He shrugs, undoing the button on his jeans. “You had your chance at that.”

  And then he’s naked. Naked and glorious and just the way I remembered him. But the last time, he wanted me. And now he doesn’t.

  I fold my arms across my chest and he takes a step towards me. I don’t want to do the whole stalk me across the room thing again.

  I already know how easy it is for him to win.

  Why waste my fucking energy?

  So I stand there, rooted to the spot while he takes the bottom of my t-shirt and forces it up over my head. He pushes my arms up to the side and I don’t even struggle much. He unclips my bra and slides it down over my arms and I just stand there still, still as that fucking china doll I’ve always hated so much.

  He bends down and pulls my jeans and underwear off in one go, and I step out of them for him, my eyes fixed to a spot on the wall.

  And all I can think of is why is doing this? What the fuck does he want?

  He comes around behind me and presses his warm body against my back, running his fingers along my neck almost absentmindedly. “I never got to see you the first time, but you’re perfect.”

  I spin around. I don’t want compliments, I want answers. “Why are you doing this? Do you want to fuck me or not?”

  “Course I want to fuck you. I just don’t want you to want it.”

  “Well you’re doing a fucking good job of that.”

  He pushes me back and I stumble, but I catch my balance after a couple of steps. Then he does it again and this time I stumble right up against his bed.

  “Then tell me no.”

  I narrow my eyes at him. “No.”

  He smiles. “Say it like you fucking mean it.”

  I cross my arms, shielding my tits from his view. “No. You’re cruel and nasty and fucked up in the head and I hate you. I hate what you’re doing to me. I want to go home.”

  “There’s my girl.”

  He gives me one last hard push and this time I fall right on the bed.

  Not even a moment passes and his weight is already on me, forcing his knee down between my legs and splitting them apart.

  I push him off me and he takes my wrists and pushes them down into the mattress above my head, holding them there with one hand.

  “Keep going and I’m going to need to tie you down,” he says through gritted teeth.

  And then it clicks. He really did want to fuck me, he just wanted me to hate him for it. He’s always wanted me to hate him. He wants the whole fucking world to hate him.

  I don’t hate him. Life is too short and too precious to hate people.

  But I stop really struggling. I think he needs this, and I think I need this. So I let him do it in the way he needs it to be done.

  I pretend to struggle, to push my legs up and try to throw him off me and this only spurs him on even more. His lips are over my face and neck, kissing and nipping and full on biting until a scream rips from my mouth.

  “I fucking hate you,” I tell him.

  “Think about that while I fuck you sore,” he whispers.

  He lets go of my arms and lifts me onto the middle of the bed, positioning himself in between my legs. I sit up, I kick and I thrash and he just laughs, forcing me back down with a hand around my neck and shushing me again like that’s going to comfort me.

  I feel something hard at my entrance. He’s palming his cock down there and I know it’s about to happen.

  It’s right fucking there.

  His lips catch mine and he forces his way into my m
outh, and I let him. I suck on his tongue while he strokes my hair, all the while my hands trying to lift his huge frame off me.

  He seems to like this.

  Am I going to like this?

  And then I feel the sting as he pushes himself inside me. I moan in pain, at this foreign feeling and he only kisses me deeper, muffling the sound.

  “You going to cry?” He says it like a taunt.

  “No,” I tell him, even though I feel them building behind my eyes. Even though I’m not sure I believe it.

  He pushes in further and it still hurts. Not a sting, an ache. He’s too big. I’m too small. He’s going to hurt me.

  That’s what he wants though, isn’t it?

  “Cry for me,” he says, as if confirming my thoughts. “Fucking cry for me.”

  He says it while he slams into me and I’m positive he’s going to break me. His hands grip around my head and I tilt my head up and bite him again.

  He lets out a groan and only fucks me harder.

  So I struggle more. I scratch him. I lift my legs and try to push him off me but this just lets him in deeper. And then I do something I didn’t think I would. I let out a sniff, one that lets him know that tears aren’t far away.

  He stops moving and cups my cheek in his hand, wiping my eye with his other one and feeling the dampness there on his finger.

  “Good girl,” he says, kissing the cheek he’s just got wet.

  He pulls out of me and works his way down my body, trailing kisses all the way down until he reaches the space between my legs.

  I shiver. I’m cold without him on top of me, keeping me warm. I lie still. It feels good, what he’s doing. He parts my legs wider and kisses me there. Right at my opening.

  My back arches from the sensation and I let out a moan. “Malachy don’t,” I tell him. It feels good, but he can see everything. Suddenly I’m conscious of everything, aware of everything. How I look. How I feel. How I will taste.

  But he just trails kisses along the inside of my thigh. “You’re perfect,” he says. “Fucking perfect.”

  I sit up and watch him. His eyes are closed, his face is right there. Does he want to do this? He looks like he does.

  “Malachy,” I repeat his name, because I don’t know what else to say.

  He glances up at me. “I’m going to make you feel good. Lie down,” he tells me.

  So I do.

  I lie down and I close my eyes and I let him do it.

  And it feels better than I ever thought it would feel.

  Chapter 28

  Malachy

  I lick and suck her little cunt until the mattress is practically shaking from her moans and her hips are rising off the bed. When her legs clench tightly around my head, I stay still for a minute and let her have at it.

  She needed this. She needed to know that it’s not all pain and tears and hate with me.

  When her breath slows down to almost normal, I inch back up the bed towards her head and settle myself back down on top of her again.

  “You feel better now?” I ask her, kissing her forehead.

  She nods, her eyes half closed.

  “Next time, it won’t hurt as much down there.”

  She opens them now and looks at me strangely. “We’re going to do this again?”

  Every fucking night if I can help it. But I don’t tell her that right now.

  “Do you want to?”

  She pauses for ages and I pretend like I’m interested in what she’s going to say. Yes? No? Maybe? Who gives a fuck.

  “I think so,” she says.

  I bend down and kiss her lazily, then lie down beside her and pull her across to me, arranging her so she’s practically sprawled over my body.

  We lay there in silence for a few long minutes and then she clears her throat. “Can I ask you something?”

  “Shoot,” I tell her.

  “Why did you want me to say no?”

  I look up at the drapes hanging over our heads. They’re black and if you hadn’t had to stare at them every night for fifteen years you’d think they were just black. But you’d be wrong. They’re a hundred different shades of black.

  “Because I did,” I say. “I like it better that way.”

  “But why?”

  I turn over in bed to face her. I could lie, but there’s something about her that makes me want to tell the truth. It makes me want to open up a tiny crack and show her it. I think that’s because I don’t think she would run. She might push me away, but she doesn’t run from me.

  “I don’t know exactly, but I remember trying to understand what they all thought I’d done to you. That was a few years later. And it interested me. And then when I was old enough, everyone knew who I was and what I’d done and they looked at me like they were scared of me but they wanted me anyway. And I guess I got used to liking that.”

  She looks at me and then swallows. “You like hurting people?”

  “Yes.”

  “Same question, why?”

  “Because it makes me feel good.”

  Then she does something I didn’t expect. She takes her hand and she cups my cheek with it. She plants a single kiss on my lips and it’s almost as if she understands.

  She understands?

  How the fuck can she understand when I don’t even understand it myself?

  And then she closes her eyes and I watch her in the half-darkness. I listen to her breath as it gets deeper and she falls into a peaceful sleep. I still want to hurt her. I don’t think I’ll ever stop wanting to hurt her. But I don’t regret deciding to let her in.

  Chapter 29

  Grace

  My eyelashes flutter open and the bedside lamp is on.

  There is no natural light in the room.

  I sit up and look around. Malachy is sitting up in bed on his phone.

  “Morning princess,” he says.

  “Morning. What time is it?”

  “Back of ten.”

  “Shit.” I stretch my arms up above my head and let out a yawn. “I need to go.”

  “Why?” He grabs me and pulls me over to him, so I have no choice but to spread my legs across his stomach. His hands lock around the small of my waist and he narrows his eyes at me expectantly.

  “I was supposed to be up early car shopping today.”

  “Car shopping? You don’t need a car. From now on, I take you wherever you want to go.” He starts tracing circles on the sensitive part of my hips and I can see his distraction tactics a mile away.

  “Uh, no you don’t. I’m getting a car,” I tell him, trying to roll back off to my side.

  He keeps me in place but shrugs as if he’s going to let me win this one. “Fine. Suit yourself. What’s your budget?”

  “I have about a grand saved.”

  “A thousand pounds will buy you a really fucking nice deathtrap,” he says, reaching over to the bedside table. “Here. Made you this, might still be warm.”

  He passes me up a cup of coffee and I drink. It’s hot-ish. I take a long gulp and put it back down on the side. “Well, that’s all I’ve got, and I don’t want to rely on Scott or Jamie or my mum anymore.”

  He nods. “Understandable. Well, I’ll come with you. Make sure it’s not too deadly. Plus salesmen are arseholes, and you have target stamped on your forehead in neon fucking lights.”

  I laugh at him. “I do, do I?”

  He gives me a cheeky smile. “Not to me. Of course.”

  I roll my eyes at him and slide off, getting out of his side of the bed. I’m trying to see what he did with my clothes, last night is kinda blurry. “Still think you should stay in that bed naked all day.”

  “I would say no, but now I know what it does to your cock I’m just going to choose not to answer.”

  He laughs then, a deep throaty one that makes me smile. “Aye, you’re learning.”

  We’re sat in his car on the way to a garage. Apparently it’s owned by someone in Josh’s family, and I can trust they do a good job of
all the checks before they sell on trade-ins.

  For £1000 a car that starts well first time was all I was hoping for, but if Malachy thinks he can do a better job than I’m not complaining.

  We pull up outside and he comes around and gets the door for me, catching my hand and not letting go of it while we walk across the forecourt.

  “Alright, Alec,” he shouts from the big open double door.

  The man who I can only assume is Alec roles out from under the chassis of a car, face covered in dirt and grease.

  “Alright Malachy. Josh phoned and says you were coming.” He gets up from the ground and wipes his hands down his overalls. He’s a big guy, mid-forties I’d say from his thinning hair. “And this must be the little lady he was talking about.”

  “Aye,” Malachy says, smiling down at me. “This is Grace.”

  “Pleased to meet you,” Alec says. “I won’t shake yer hand cause I’ll just get you all dirty. But I think I have something that’ll suit you well enough.”

  He walks by us and we follow him out into the forecourt in front of the garage. All of these cars are nice. All used, but obviously hire-purchase trade-ins and only a few years old — five at most.

  I can’t afford any of these cars.

  “You’re not one of those who needs an automatic do you?” Alec glances over his shoulder as he talks.

  “No, I can drive both,” I tell him.

  I’m thinking there must be a bargain basement section where he keeps all the shitty ones. But then he stops in front of a three-year-old VW Golf and I’m convinced he’s barking up the wrong fucking tree.

  “I only have a grand,” I tell him.

  I don’t want to wait for him to go into the sales pitch. They keep talking at you and don’t let you get a word in. Malachy might think I have target written on me but I wasn’t born yesterday.

  “Aye, It’s nine nine nine, point nine nine.”

  £999.99? For a practically new Golf?

  I look over at Malachy but he’s already walking away from me, going round the back and bending down to check the paintwork.

  “Is this a joke? There’s no way that car is that price.”