Chapter Twenty-Seven
Amelie
After we say our goodbyes and pile in the limo, Kalen says he has an awesome place we can go, so he opens the privacy window popping his head through and instructs the driver on where to go.
In no time the limo stops and the driver opens the door, saying he will be here when we finish to take us home. Kalen is the first to jump and run to the door, clearly with too much energy for his own good.
“Does Kalen ever go anywhere that isn’t sketchy? I mean, I wouldn’t come here alone in the day, let alone at night.”
“This place is actually pretty good,” Slate says, taking my hand. When our IDs are checked and we walk inside, my mouth falls open.
“What is this place?” I ask looking around.
“Drag Karaoke,” Kalen declares, handing me a drink.
Whoa. It’s off the charts. Everywhere I look there’s a riot of colour and feathers, stilettos and suspenders. It’s so loud. I don’t know where to look. I laugh out loud when I see Sawyer’s dubious stare. Poor Onyx just doesn’t know where to look.
“Sing with me, sis,” Kalen says.
“What? No. I don’t sing.”
“You do too, you sing with Slate all the time.”
“Erm, it’s not the same. That’s private.”
“You sang at the school showcase in front of hundreds of students and parents!”
“That was different,” I insist. “These are professionals.”
“The last one to put down their song choice is a rotten egg!” Kalen declares racing off to fill out the sign-up sheet with the MC. The busty redhead seems very taken with Kalen, who of course laps the attention up, not caring that the MC has a dick.
“You don’t get out of it you know,” Slate tells me with a smirk.
“Who said I was trying to get out of anything? I just don’t want to sing with Kalen. I can tell he’s going to be awful. Besides, what are you going to sing?”
“You’ll see.”
“Onyx? Sawyer? What are you guys singing?”
“We don’t sing,” they reply together.
“Everyone sings,” a deep masculine baritone belonging to a chunky brunette way over six feet tall in her heels tells us. “On karaoke night the entry fee is waived on the condition that everyone sings.”
“Do you think Kalen knew?” I ask.
“Of course,” Onyx groans.
“Look,” Sawyer tries to reason with the nipple tassel wearing brunette goliath, “can we make a generous donation to the cover charge and skip the singing? Please?”
“Hell no, pretty boy,” she drawls, using a long-manicured nail to twirl around Sawyer’s chest. “I’d give my left tit and my right testicle to see you shaking your thang up there.” Beautiful image. I snort and choke a little on my drink. Sawyer turns puce.
“Why don’t you duet?” I suggest sweetly.
“Amazing idea, doll face! You know, I was mighty jealous when you walked in with all these hotties drooling after you like foxes in a chicken pen, but if you’re willing to share, I like you after all.”
I laugh and give the brunette a ‘be my guest’ motion with my hand towards Sawyer. I had actually intended for Sawyer and Onyx to duet together, but this is way more fun. Sawyer actually looks more murderous than Onyx usually does so I’m going to enjoy this.
“Yoo-hoo, Amelie!” Kalen starts calling over the mic, dear God. “Sis! Get your sexy ass up here! It’s time for me to serenade you.” I desperately try to hide but to my absolute horror Sawyer grabs my hand and starts tugging me towards the stage at the back of the room.
“Sawyer, stop! What are you doing?” I hiss.
“Tit for tat, Miss Rossi,” he tells me. “If I have to suffer through this, so do you.”
“Fine! But this counts as my song, okay?”
“If you say so,” he smirks as Kalen bounds over to us and grabs my hand to pull me up on stage.
The song starts up and Kalen starts belting out “Valerie” by The Zutons, only he’s butchering the Amy Winehouse/Mark Ronson version.
I’m laughing too hard to really add much to the song anyway.
When he gets to the chorus he turns to me and yells the wrong words at the top of his lungs.
“Why don’t you come on over, Amelie!”
“Erm, it's Valerie you dumbass,” I hiss.
“Amelie,” he croons. “I like my version better.” He turns to the crowd of drag queens all dancing to the song and crows, “do you prefer my version?”
The crowd lets up an almighty roar and by the next chorus Kalen has the whole bar singing to me. My face is on fire but my face hurts from smiling. We finish our number and vacate the stage, as the nipple-tasseled diva drags a very silky looking Sawyer past us.
The opening beat to “Lady Marmalade” comes on and the remaining Knox brothers fall apart laughing.
I try to hold back a smile to be kind to Sawyer - who is basically being used as a pole for Nips (as I’ve affectionately named her) to dance against - but I can’t contain it.
His utter mortification has my sides hurting.
Tears roll down my cheeks as the song ends with Nips planting an absolute smacker on Sawyer’s lips.
“Oh. My. God,” I gasp as Sawyer joins us, scowling.
“Shut up,” he mutters. He doesn’t see the funny side at all, especially when Kalen holds up a small video camera and waves it in front of Sawyer’s face, taunting him. “It’s your turn,” he mutters, turning to the twins.
“Got it covered,” Slate replies. He finishes his drink - where can I get one of those?
- and heads up to the stage. He looks really uncomfortable up there without any instruments.
His eyes lock on mine and he begins to sing a dark gravelly version of ‘I Will Possess Your Heart’ by Death Cab for Cutie.
I love the song and he sings it right to me: “I won’t let you.
..let me down...so easily”. Message received loud and clear.
It’s incredibly sexy and right now I just want to find a room and finish what we started on stage earlier.
When he comes off stage, I do something entirely unlike me: I launch myself at him, wrapping my legs around his waist and devouring him with my mouth. Fuck.
“We need to go. Now,” I murmur against his lips. He chuckles but doesn’t complain.
“Consider it done,” he tells me.
Kalen complains loudly behind us as we continue to kiss. There are cheers and whoops all around us, but I couldn’t give a fuck. I need Slate. I need him to know that I don’t overlook him, I do see the potential in us.
“Onyx didn’t sing yet,” Kalen points out.
“Don’t think anyone cares,” he tells Kalen. He sounds happy to get out of it, but there’s something darker underneath too.
I tear myself away from Slate because if I don’t I’m going to be a total cliché and have sex in a limo and as much fun as that would be, not with the other three watching.
Although, my twin sandwich fantasy is quickly replaced by one involving more Knox brothers.
I shake my head to clear it; there’s no way we could do that.
In the limo on the way back to Laura and Monty’s I make sure I sit across from Slate.
I think the distance will be good but it doesn’t work at all, the flame ignited between us just simmers as he stares at me with heated eyes across the darkness of the limo.
The others have to be able to taste the sexual tension in the air.
They try to make jokes and draw us into the conversation but I can’t concentrate on anything but Slate.
I devour him with my gaze; he fucks me with his.
When we get home everyone is quiet, sneaking in to not disturb Laura and Monty.
“Your room or mine?” Slate asks when we’re finally alone.
“Yours. I don’t count that room as mine and I don’t want anything to do with it...unless, you don’t share with Onyx do you?” I ask in horror. He chuckles lightly.
“Not here, babe.”
“Then your room. Right now.” He chuckles again but I don’t have to ask twice as he pulls me upstairs and along the corridor to the furthest door on the left. His room is different shades of grey, tidy, clean and neat. I don’t know if that’s Slate’s doing, or Laura and Monty’s. I don’t care.
Slate tugs me over to the bed and suddenly I’m nervous.
The heat from the bar and the limo is still there, but the urgency has gone.
Now that we’re alone in his room, I don’t know how to proceed.
Do I just jump him? I feel as awkward as Sawyer was the night I first went to his house. I remember how I teased him about that.
“Stop overthinking, Amelie,” Slate says softly. “There’s no expectations, but I would love it if you stayed the night with me. Nothing has to happen.”
That reignites the simmering embers into a roaring blaze and I launch myself at him again.
“Naked. Now,” I demand as I crush my lips to his.
He laughs at me, but doesn’t argue. We’re tearing each others’ clothes off, but once we’re both naked, Slate takes me by surprise by slowing things right down.
He stares at my body - scars and all - like he’s committing every flaw to memory.
Only, he doesn’t look at me like I’m flawed; he looks at me like I’m goddamn perfect.
My heart somersaults in my chest and I swallow the lump in my throat.
He caresses and kisses every inch of my skin with reverence, until he has me squirming with impatience and need.
“Slate, please,” I beg. Mercifully he doesn’t fuck around; he reaches into his bedside drawer and pulls out a condom. “Slate!” I groan again. He’s taking too long.
“Shhh, patience, Amelie. I’m not about to fuck and forget you,” he promises, kissing me tenderly.
His long talented fingers slide up the inside of my leg, catching every nerve ending, and my back arches at his contact with my clit.
His finger rubs over me slowly, torturing me in the most delicious way possible.
Just before I succumb to a burst of pleasure, he pulls away, positioning himself on top of me.
It feels too good to piss me off. His dark chocolate brown eyes roam over my face, as if he is committing this moment to memory.
He slides inside me, and all thought is driven from my mind as I get lost in the sensations he creates with each thrust of his hips.
Slow, powerful, tender. My orgasm builds, the slowness of his movements have me teetering on the edge of bliss, just waiting to be pushed over the edge as soon as he allows it.
Holding his weight with one arm, Slate takes my breast in his hand, leaning in to suck my nipple, and I can’t hold back, I need to let it out.
“Slate.” He lifts his head and smiles, the loss of his touch unsettling me.
“Ready to let it out?” I nod.
His large hand moves to cover my mouth as his thrusts get faster, so that my muffled screams would only be heard by someone walking past, and at this moment, I don’t care.
I let it all out as waves of pleasure crash into me, like a rip-curl hitting the shore. Goosebumps cover my sweat slicked body. Slate’s release follows and his body collapses onto mine. I wrap my arms around his body, pulling him in tight.
Slate has always surprised me, and this was no exception. We move together as well as we sing and perform. It just feels right. We fit.
Exhausted, we fall asleep in each other’s arms. Perfect.
The next morning Monty and Laura seem happy to have everyone around the breakfast table, Monty pulling out all the stops with a feast for us all.
Even Sawyer seems more relaxed than I’ve seen him in a long time.
Since the night we met actually. He smiles and laughs easily as Kalen regails Laura and Monty with some of the tamer exploits of last night.
Laura doesn’t know that I slept in Slate’s room last night.
There’s no way she would be this calm if she did.
After breakfast we’re all packed off in the limo once again, told to enjoy our weekend, and reminding us all to come for family dinner tomorrow.
Laura says they have a surprise planned.
Her words instantly fill me with dread, washing away the joy of yesterday and last night.
It’s a sharp wake up call as to why I’m really here and why I need to get out.