Bad New Kiss Novels & Stories

Thankfully the sound of the musical rain falling, I could avoid my phone. I adored the slightly visible rain drops from the far away window in my front as the flashbacks of the kiss occupied my head. Uh, it was not that bad thought. He is cunningly savage but a good kisser. I can still feel his lips on mine. Gosh! What the heck is wrong with me. How can his kiss be good. Nope, it was not. It was not at all good but the worst thing I experienced so far. *knocks on the door*

Going through vaginas like I go through toothpaste. So the kiss isn’t soft. It isn’t gentle. It isn’t anything that can be confused with comfort. It is goodbye.

AVERY "Bad." Pulling out of the kiss, he commented. "You are really bad at kissing" My eyes remained wide in shock, my lip btting back a retort. How could he steal my first kiss and still say I'm bad at kissing? Did he expect me to be a pro? I resisted the urge to glare at him as he released my chin, his face slowly turning cold. "Strip." He said, and my eyes widened again. "Wh – at?" I stuttered.

“Don’t make a sound, mate.” He yanked me toward him, lowered his head, and smashed his lips to mine. First kiss. Holy fuck, it was good. No fireworks. Just straight-up explosions. And just like that—Kyler Arrow ruined me for every man on this planet. O. M. G.

He stole my first kiss out from under me and left me feeling ashamed and embarrassed. Even if I was terrible at kissing, surely there would have been a more sensitive way to tackle the issue? Maybe I used too much tongue? Maybe not enough? Maybe this was just another one of Andrew Stephenson's sick, manipulating head games that he enjoys playing. Whatever the reason for his rude, uncivilised behaviour yesterday, he won't be granted a second chance to ever kiss me again; my lips, in fact, all of me, will now be considered an Andrew Stephenson no-go zone.

I bombarded him with questions, filled with frustrations. "Of course. Don't you know Ivy Young? The first person to fall deeply in love with two guys. She got into a relationship with one and still kissed the other. She is unique, right?" He said sarcastically I shook my head, giving him a deadly glare."Look, I didn't kiss Xander, Romeo. He kissed me. It wasn't consensual. I didn't know he was about to kiss me. It was the day you told me to come over to the gym center. Remember I didn't meet you there, instead I saw Xander. We were just talking and he suddenly kissed me. I didn't want to tell you, because I knew you would surely act like this. Like an immature jerk." I abused him.

“If anything, you're too good.” I let out a nervous breath that sounded almost like a giggle. “You're okay with dating a girl with about three hundred dollars in her bank account? It's going to make it a little tough for me to split the bill at the opera.” He grinned. “The guy's supposed to pay anyway on a date.” I wasn't sure if he kissed me, or if I kissed him. Either way, our lips connected just the way they were supposed to. It was the sweetest kiss I had ever had. It was love.

they aren’t words of reaffirmation, whispered with so much contempt and anger but I still feel butterflies. “That is your problem,” my lips finally moved and I mentally high five myself for that retort. Zade scoffs before lifting his head from my chest, a complaint rises from my throat but it doesn’t make it to my lips when I see his darkened eyes swirling with so much need and desire. “I’m about to make it yours.” He doesn’t give me the chance to ask what that means before claiming my lips in a bruising kiss. The kiss is not soft or patient, nothing like I have heard about or read in books. The tension from the past few days explodes with his mouth touching mine, his tongue twining with min

My steps slow, and I turn towards the noise. There he is. My step brother in the center of a loud circle, playing beer bong like it’s an Olympic sport. He’s chugging from a hose, his throat working, the crowd roaring every time he swallows. When he finally stops, a drop dead gorgeous girl pushes through the bodies, grabs his face with both hands, and kisses him. It’s not a cute kiss. A kiss. The kind that gets your hair messy and steals your breath. His fingers are in her dark strands, pulling her closer as he kisses the fuck out of her.

“Look at me.” He closed the distance. The kiss wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t anything like the soft, angelic healing Lila had performed earlier—no careful pressure, no soothing whispers. This was jagged, desperate, tasting faintly of the coffee he’d been drinking all day and the sharp, metallic tang of everything we still hadn’t said out loud. It was the kiss of two people who knew they were sinking fast and decided, fuck it, let’s drag each other all the way to the bottom.