Dax
Kid slides her hand into mine, grinning as I place her in the center of the semi-circle we’ve created just for her. Stepping back to stand beside York, the four of us watch her intently. Her eyes are glassy with emotion, her cheeks flushed, but her expression is one of pure joy and a deep, heartfelt love. Like my brothers, I feel her love like the force of a motherfucking truck ploughing into my chest. She takes my damn breath away.
“Dance with us,” Xeno says, his voice gravelly and dripping with unspoken words as Stormzy sings.
Kid looks at him, grooving to the beat as she bites her lower lip. Electricity sparks between them, hitting me in the gut, but I’m not jealous of their attraction, I never have been. What we have is unique, special. These guys are my fucking brothers, and Kid is our soulmate. I knew it the second she walked into the basement of number 15 Jackson Street wearing her bruises like armour. That tiny, courageous little girl became my Kid. Our lucky penny. Our motherfucking world.
With flushed cheeks, she stares at us one by one, setting us alight without even touching us. A slow, sexy smile spreads across her face as she lifts her arms above her head and rolls her body, lowering to the floor then back up again. In return we let loose, grooving to the beat with fire and lust in our eyes. Turning around, Kid throws one last sexy look over her shoulder before she slides her hands down her thighs, cups her knees, widens her legs then starts to twerk in time to the beat. From our position, the skirt of her dress lifts, showing off the tops of her thighs, and revealing the slip of white material that covers her pussy. My cock fucking jerks in my pants.
Fuck. Me.
She motherfucking owns it. Just like we knew she would.
Without thought, I freestyle to the beat, focusing on her sexy body and complimenting her steps with my own. Right here and now, she is fire and I’m more than fucking willing to burn up in her flames.
I know the guys feel what I feel, this gut-churning, soul-squeezing, cock-clenching, ball-tingling, motherfucking love. She makes me feel like I can rule the goddamn world. She makes me feel like a fucking king, and when she dances it’s as though we’re the only ones in existence. Every other fucker fades away. All our problems disappear. All the hurt dissolves.
This girl has the power to reset time, I swear to fucking God.
“Fuck me,” York mutters, voicing my thoughts out loud.
I glance at him, he’s practically salivating, and I would’ve fucking laughed if I wasn’t doing the exact same thing. Just like Zayn and Xeno he freestyles, moving in time to the beat. We dance, complimenting each other’s steps without even having to think about it, because just like Kid is ours, we are each other’s too. We belong together, the five of us. We always have.
I’m not a religious man but I swear that there’s something spiritual that happens when we dance together. We might be mere mortals, but Kid, she’s a motherfucking goddess.
Nothing compares to her.
Not one damn thing lives up to her and the way she makes us feel.
She is the motherfucking centre of our universe and there isn’t a thing that will change that.
Fuck, I’ll dance every goddamn day for the rest of my godforsaken life until my feet are nothing but bloody stumps, if that’s what it takes to keep her happy. I’ll worship her. I’ll protect her. I’ll love her until my heart stops beating, and then love her even more in the afterlife.
Kid jerks her body, her feet stomping to the beat, her thighs and calf muscles flexing with every step. I watch her, practically salivating as her tight little arse moves beneath the silky material of her dress. She clutches the hem, lifting the material with hands, as she interjects some latin steps into her dance that has my balls tingling.
I could come just watching her dance. One day I want to test that theory.
Zayn lifts his fingers to his lips and whistles, breaking me out of my lust-crazed thoughts. She throws him a sexy smile over her shoulder then really sinks into the dance, changing style completely and dropping some Azonto steps, a native dance to West Africa. Xeno’s eyes nearly pop out of his head as she bends her knees, swings her arms and jumps back and forward in time to the beat. Of course, none of us can resist the call of such a tribal dance as we imitate her steps, adding our own personal flare. Soon she switches pace and transitions into street dance, beads of perspiration sliding over her skin as she dances. Always one to keep us on our toes, her flare for creating incredible choreography rivals that of Zayn.
The spotlight follows her as she moves around us, dancing with each of us in turn. Zayn presses his front against her back, taking her outstretched hands and with her knees pressed together, she corkscrews downwards, before rising back up again. He presses a kiss against the curve of her neck then lets her slide into Xeno’s arms as he gets down and dirty with her. She grinds against his thigh that he’s slid between her parted legs, then bends her over backwards, the tip of his nose running up from her belly button to the dip in her throat as he lifts her back up. I watch the electricity spark and crackle between them as Kid rises up onto her tiptoes and brushes her lips against his mouth before she spins away into York’s arms.
York grins so fucking wide, I’m sure his face is about to split in half. The love he shows her in that one look as he wraps an arm around her waist is combustible. He’s mad for her, just like we all are. Bringing Kid to his side, they tap a sequence of steps that ends up with Kid sliding into a split that has the crowd losing their shit.
With a cheeky peck to York’s cheek she rises up onto her tiptoes, then dances towards me. I nod once and she picks up speed, launching herself into my arms. Kid steps onto my bent knee and I lift her off her feet, throwing her up above my head. Flipping her legs out horizontally, I catch her as she falls. It’s a lift we’ve been practising for our duet and she pulls it off perfectly.
It really doesn’t matter what style Kid dances—tap, contemporary, lyrical, hip-hop, ballet, freestyle—our girl owns every damn one. Just like she owns me. Just like she owns us.
A possessive growl rips out of Xeno’s mouth, as I lower her slowly down my body and kiss her deeply before letting her go. I wink at Xeno then turn my attention back to Kid. We all watch her with lust crazed eyes as we freestyle to the music, our blood pumping, our hearts beating, our bodies vibing. We dance without inhibition, and for the first time in a very long fucking time, I feel real joy. It’s like the sun finally shining after years and years of surviving the night.
Like Stormzy sings, she’s on fire and all we can do is bask in her blinding light with the knowledge that she’s ours once again.
Throwing a look over her shoulder at us, Kid grins, then recreates our winning dance from that fateful night all those years ago. She shreds the stage with her passion, with her determination, and I watch with fucking pride as she holds up a metaphorical middle finger to the mistakes of our past, to Jeb, to David. If I were a betting man, I reckon those cunts’ ears are burning. That wherever they are right in this moment, they feel a shift in the air; they sense that there’s a day of reckoning coming soon…
With passion firing in our veins, with love pumping in our hearts, with courage in our lungs, strength in our bones and fight in our muscles, we rip up our history and shred the past with our steps. With perfectly synchronicity, Xeno, York, Zayn and I gather around our girl and fucking dance like we’ve never danced before. The energy between us is indescribable, palpable. It’s fierce, fucking powerful. Right here, right in this moment, we kick arse and take names, and just like that, Kid resets time. She gives us another chance to start over.
We take it. We take this chance to be happy.
Unafraid. Fucking whole again.
