4 - Wanna Play a Game? #2
The world turns to black when a pair of hands snake around to cover my eyes. I nearly drop my drink in a blind panic. But the scent that surrounds me is soft and flowery - instantly recognisable.
“Guess who?” She sings, voice warm and sugary sweet.
“Oh, I don’t know,” I smirk, playing along with her game. “Could it be…Casey?” I laugh, spinning around to trap her in my arms, and tickle her.
She squeals. “Logan!”
“How you doing, Cee?” I grin down at her, and she lifts herself onto her tiptoes to peck me on the cheek.
“I’m super,” she chuckles, sweeping her luminous blonde bangs behind her ear.
“Look!” Before I can register what she’s said, she shoves her hand in front of my nose.
I have to blink to avoid getting double vision.
Sitting atop her finger is an immaculate diamond set into a platinum band, sparkling as if it’s got something to prove.
“Woo. That’s quite the stone, Cee.” My gaze flicks back to her brown doe eyes. “Congratulations,” I say. I’m genuinely happy for her.
Casey was my first proper girlfriend at sixteen. We were cute together until we weren’t. Shit went down with Mum. I was angry and ended up being a complete and utter dick to her. She’s kind, devoted, and Tommy’s lucky to have stuck a ring on her finger.
Speaking of which.
“Tommy!” I holler, as her fiancé glides into the room, eyes searching for his woman. “Congrats, man. Make sure you look after her, or I’ll be after you.”
Considering what we did to Fionn, he’d be smart to take that warning seriously.
“Cheers, buddy,” he says, raising his cup in the air before dropping a kiss on his fiancée’s rosy lips.
Just as he does, Clarke comes barrelling in, sloshing alcohol all over the poor guy. Tommy frowns, shaking his sleeve in quiet disgust. Fuck’s sake, Clarke’s on his way to being totalled already. Can you believe he’s going to be in charge of us one day?
“Garden room,” he orders, though his voice lacks the usual authoritative tone. “We’re playing truth or dare.”
Great.
“Someone get that kid some H20,” Ezio’s Italian lilt carries through the hall.
I roll my eyes, filling a cup from the sink. Clarke scowls at me when I snatch his drink out of his hand and replace it with water.
“Eres un pendejo!” He spits. Called me an arsehole in his Spanish tongue.
I deadpan. “Don’t care. I’m sure as hell not ringing Scar to tell him we’ve had to blue light you to the hospital to get your stomach pumped.”
He grumbles something in his mother tongue as I push him out the door. One night a year he’s allowed to drink, and doesn’t he make the fucking most of it.
That’s when I see her.
Cordelia.
And for a moment I stop dead, mouth agape, eyes glued to her radiant curves.
She’s still wearing that same dress that makes my cock pulsate, but the skirt has been torn off, barely covering her modesty.
My gaze moves slowly, taking in every inch of her.
And strangely, as my eyes jump between all the exposed naked flesh, anger simmers in my gut, fingers twisting with the need to locate a blanket to cover her up.
When she catches me staring, she scrunches her nose and walks away.
What the hell is she even doing here? Who invited her?
Clarke’s shoulders shake under my palms. Snickering, he says. “See something you like, amigo?”
Fucking bastard.
“In there.” I shove him through the open door with enough force to propel him into the opposite wall.
The garden room is a glass-panelled extension.
Essentially a conservatory—but in this postcode they insist on dressing stuff up with pretentious titles.
There’s already a gathering of people sitting on the plush Persian carpet, forming a sort of semi-circle around the room.
Casey and Tommy shut the door behind them, and that makes ten of us.
“Evening, fuckers,” Clarke drops down next to Courtney.
He snatches the drink right out of her hand and chucks it down his throat.
She pouts but doesn’t complain. “You know the drill. What’s said and done here stays strictly between us, yada.
I’m upping the ante this time,” he adds with a wily smile.
“You choose dare, you gotta do it. No getting out of it. So, if you’re too pussy, leave now. ”
No one moves.
He claps his hands together, dark eyes scanning the room to see where he can source his next drink. He’s a bloody menace.
Once we get started it’s not long before things turn spicy. Ezio dares Scarlett to suck-face with Clarissa. Which they do, and it’s hot as balls.
Then it’s Casey’s turn. She chooses truth.
“Have you ever had anal with your current partner?” Dom says bluntly.
Casey’s eyes dart to Tommy and she turns as red as Scarlett’s hair.
Everyone laughs. No need for her to answer.
The truths get wilder and the dares more explicit as the night goes on.
Remove two items of clothing from the person next to you with only your teeth.
Present your bare ass for a spanking. Tommy took that like a champ.
Lick chocolate sauce off a dick.
By the time it gets to my turn, I’m feeling a tad apprehensive. Clarke locks eyes with me from the opposite side of the circle - a challenge lurking behind his smug exterior. Now he’s unbuttoned his shirt halfway, that bloody viper tattoo glares at me like a predator waiting to strike.
“Truth or dare?”
“Dare.”
Like hell if I’ll be telling people my personal shit. And as it’s Clarke dishing it out, he would make it very personal.
The shit-eating grin that spreads across his lips makes me think I’ve walked into a fucking snare trap. Blindfolded. With a sign on my head that says ‘Dunce.’
“A night with the French girl.”
My brows furrow together, and I’m almost positive my balls just retreated inside my arsehole.
“Say what?”
“You heard. See if her pretty mouth is still smart when it’s wrapped around your cock.”
And that right there is the reason we don’t give Clarke alcohol.
“Logan! No!” Casey slaps her palm on the carpet in outrage. “That’s cruel.”
“Shut it,” Clarke sneers at her, making Tommy curl his fists beside her. “He agreed to the rules like the rest of you.” He levels his gaze with me again. “Well?”
Casey stands, stomping over to the door noisily. “I’m out. You guys are sick.”
Tommy glances around the now-broken circle and follows her with a shrug.
“Pussies,” Clarke spits. “Well, what’ll it be, Cox? If you don’t, I will.”
And it’s those last two words that turn the dare into a threat.
“Alright,” I grind through my teeth, forcing the words to leave my lips.