AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I head through the staff entrance to the dressing room, the door is closed so I knock.
“Just a minute,” Elle’s frantic voice sounds from the other side. There’s some scrambling and a thud and panic rises. My father hasn’t done anything since the initial attack on Elle but what if that wasn’t the end of his plan? What if she’s in trouble now?
I swing the door open to find Elle rising from her knees as my cousin hastily tucks himself back into his pants. Brent flashes me a cocky grin, smug bastard.
“Hey, Lancelot.” Elle grins at me, pulling a pair of leather looking leggings up her legs so she’s no longer just in her underwear. “You just here to perv?”
“I thought you were in trouble with all the racket you were making. Doesn’t this door have a lock? Anyone could have walked in.”
“And youdid!” She smiles at me again and plants a quick kiss to my lips before putting on a sequined crop top that barely covers her strapless bra, leaving her bare from just below her breasts to her hips. I am momentarily stunned by the way the delicate straps hang off her creamy shoulders and the slight definition of her stomach muscles. Her leggings fit like a second skin, and she slips her feet into a pair of glittery stilettos that match her top.
I shake my head to snap out of my Elle trance and remember myself. “Er, Elle…”
“Sorry, I gotta go. I’m late for my set. Catch up after?” With another quick kiss and a squeeze of my arm, she pushes past me to head to the stage. Brent chuckles as I look after her and claps me on the shoulder so I fall forwards slightly, nearly knocking my head on the door frame.
“You know, every time you do that, it makes me want to knock your teeth out.”
Brent laughs at me, retreating down the hall after Elle. “Think you could reach, little cousin?”
“Eurgh, you’re a lot more jolly now you’re getting laid often, I don’t love it,” I grumble after him.
The Maxwells look uncomfortable as fuck sat at the bolted down table, surrounded by people half their age and under the influence of much alcohol. I allow myself a small, amused smile as I make my way over to them. Brent is stood at the bar watching them and Hayden has arrived, sipping from a tumbler and flirting with the bartender. Hm, I don’t love that either.
“Ladies, gentleman, and all those in between,” the DJ starts into the mic. “Please give a huge, a gigantic, a gargantuan Starlight Lounge cheer for our very own Elle Maxwell!”
The obligatory roar fills the club as the crowd cheer, scream, and clap as Elle struts onto the stage with a wide smile and a bigwave. She hugs the guy with the guitar and sends an air kiss over to the drummer while the crowd controls themselves.
“Hi guys! You all seem in good spirits tonight,” she giggles into the mic. “Okay, let’s not waste time chatting, hit it boys.”
The band starts and Elle croons the opening lines of Send My Love (To Your New Lover), the crowd go wild, women in particular singing loudly along. Some of Byron’s scowl seems to dissipate as he takes in the scene. The crowd hanging off Elle’s every sung word, the pure joy in the room, and buzzing atmosphere. As Elle moves through her set, I’m pretty sure I see Pricilla’s knee bops to the beat for a couple of songs.
Most of the set happens from the stage but as the music changes again, she descends the steps onto the dancefloor as elegantly as her shoes will allow. She starts singing sweetly the opening lines of P!nk’sBeautiful Trauma. I see as she notices Brent and Hayden at the bar and slinks over to them with a provocative sway of her hips. She sings about making us chase her and strokes Brent’s face, turning her back to Hayden to slowing wiggle up and down his body. The soft and gentle pert of the song ends with her comparing our love to a drug.
The beat picks up and she skips back into the throng of the crowd. She finds me, her eyes locking on mine and her finger pointing directly at me as she calls me her beautiful trauma.
I forget for a moment that her parents are sat at the table with me, the whole crowd fades to nothing and a spotlight seems to follow her as she saunters over to me. My heart pounds and my palms sweat. She is fucking perfection and I am unworthy. Yet, here she is.Mine.
I am her drug. She reaches me and bends at the waist so whoever is behind her gets the perfect view of her luscious behind. That happens to be her father, but I don’t think she realises that. I am her nightmare. She cups my face. There is nothing butus. Her smile is slow and sexy as fuck. I am her faultless rock bottom. She is my drug. Our love. The softest of kisses is pressed to my lips before she shakes her butt to the faster beat as the chorus picks up again. She’s still bent over and I can see behind her as her father tries looking anywhere but at her arse, making me fight back the laugh threatening to burst free.
She does another lap of the crowd and then comes back to our table, climbing up to stand on top of it. She plants her heeled feet between our drinks as she comes to the end of her song.
The crowd cheer so loudly I think my ears pop. Elle stands on our table like some kind of warrior queen, panting from her exertion, and smiling to her adoring fans. She lifts her mic to say something but they just cheer louder causing her to giggle. Someone a few rows in shouts for her to sing that song again.
“Fuck off mate, I’m knackered,” Elle says, getting everyone to laugh. Once the noise dies down, she looks down at her parents with a raised brow and a slight smirk of amusement. “Daddy,” she says in greeting to her father, but into the mic for everyone to hear.
A group of women whoop and cheer at that. Some make inappropriate comments that could have made me blush if I didn’t find it so funny. Byron goes bright red and looks at his hands clasped on the table.
“Easy ladies, he’s my actual father. Minds out of the gutter please.” Another round of snickers. She looks at me and takes the mic away from her face. “You do this?”
I shrug.
“Uh huh, we’ll be talking about this later,” she tells me, but her smile is genuine. She holds her hand out to me to help her down. “Okay guys,” she addresses her audience again. “That was my last song.” Everyone boos as she ascends to the stage again. “Well, it was supposed to be.” She looks at me nervously before turning to the band to say something quietly. “Maybe just one more,” she smiles as everyone agrees enthusiastically.
A familiar intro starts to play, slower than the usual music played at the club. Then Elle starts singing with the sweetest voice. I can honestly say that her rendition ofI Can’t Help Falling In Lovefar surpasses Elvis’.
Byron straightens in his seat, staring at his daughter with an unreadable expression. Wordlessly, he stands and buttons his jacket. If this bastard leaves right now, I’m going to drag him back in here and bring Elle his severed head as tribute. To my surprise, he holds out his hand to his wife and leads her onto the dancefloor. Fifty-odd twenty-year-olds, awkwardly slow dance while the Maxwells once again turn into the couple from theirwedding video. Secret smiles and whispers show the love that is still very much present in their marriage.
Elle watches them as she sings and when there’s a small musical interlude before her next verse starts, she looks to me and mouths,thank you.
