Our Thing: An Australian Mafia Romance (Kids of The District Book 1)
Our Thing: Chapter 19

I’m alone backstage on the floor in my white leotard, unwrapping the silk of my pointe shoes and sliding them off, when I hear Max’s deep voice. ‘That’s the first time I’ve seen what you do.’

I peer up at him as he approaches in tan cinos and a navy shirt that’s snug around his thick shoulders, chest, and biceps. His sleeves are rolled above his elbows. His collar is open.

My lips part at the sight of him. ‘You scrub up, don’t you?’

‘I didn’t realise I ever scrubbed down,’ he says, stopping in front of me.

I quickly pull my shoes off and stand up. ‘You were definitely scrubbed down when I left you this morning.’

‘Speaking of which, I didn’t like waking up without you there.’

I peer up at him through false lashes and shimmering eye shadow. ‘I had to practise.’

He shoves his hands into his pockets, studying my face. ‘Don’t do that again.’

I fiddle with the hem of my leotard skirt. ‘Max, I have things I need to do.’

‘Don’t do that again.’ He grins at me and then circles my body, raking in my outfit. ‘Next time, wake me.’ He brushes his fingers along the silk of my skirting. ‘Look at you.’

I follow him with my eyes, but don’t turn, letting him move behind me and around again. ‘Stop it.’

He chuckles. ‘Just when I thought you couldn’t get any cuter.’

I bite my lip to stop from beaming at him. ‘Stop it.’

‘I’d fuck you right here if I thought I could keep you quiet.’

I cover my mouth, but part my fingers enough to talk through them. ‘Am I noisy?’

His face lights up. ‘Oh, fuck yeah.’

Both palms meet my face. ‘Oh my God.’

He peels away my fingers and then bands one arm around my waist. The other grips the nape of my neck. ‘Oh my Max. God has nothing to do with this.’

I laugh loudly and he presses his lips to mine. His grip on me tightens as his mouth moves hungrily around my face and neck. He scoops me up so I can straddle his hips with my legs. My arms feed up through his hair.

He walks me into a wall, caging me inside his arms. Instantly, I’m moaning. He stills. Then with a slow smile, he covers my mouth with his big hand, smothering my sounds of pleasure. His fingers rip through my stockings, slide under my leotard and push up inside me. My body tightens with desire, fingers digging into his shoulders and legs tensing around his hips.

My eyes squeeze shut as he presses me harder into the wall, moving his fingers in deeper. Groans come from my throat, so he tightens his hand around my mouth. He kisses my nose and eyes and forehead as he starts to really penetrate me. His hips move with the rhythm of his fingers as if it’s his penis inside me. My thighs begin to shake. I open my eyes and look into his. They are only inches from mine, dark and determined.

He moves his mouth to my ear. ‘This is the sweetest pussy I’ve ever touched.’

I tremble. He licks my ear and neck as his fingers curl inside me and my internal muscles rub against them.

‘Fuck,’ he bites out. ‘You make me ache.’

My breasts are hot from the friction against his chest and my insides are aching from his touch. He slides his fingers in and out, up to my clit, and back inside me again. His tongue and mouth are all over my neck and ear. My senses are drenched in Max Butcher.

I buck against him, my breaths hard and fast.

‘Good girl,’ he rasps. ‘You know what you want now. Take it.’ Pressure builds through my spine. I blink at him. A tear beads in the corner of my eye as the sensation builds through me and with a final jerk of my hips, I explode over his fingers.

He continues to move them inside me until I’m sated and weak.

Releasing my mouth, his lips press to mine, soft and sweet. We kiss slowly as I catch my breath. I never knew anything could feel this good. Being held by him and kissed by him makes me feel complete. If I could get closer, have more of my body connected to his, I would. His fingers slide from inside me as he lowers me to the ground. My legs shake as they take my weight.

We finally break our kiss.

I gaze up at him and reach to stroke his freshly shaven jaw. ‘That was nice.’

He grins wickedly and puts his fingers in his mouth, sucking on them. ‘I agree.’

My cheeks burn. ‘How do you go from being so sweet to so crude in the space of a few seconds?’

‘I was never sweet.’

‘Okay, Max. You keep telling yourself that.’

Walking a few steps away from him, I begin to undress. My eyes stay trained on his as I slowly expose more skin. He clenches his jaw as he studies me. I walk around in front of him, completely bare, and feel his eyes everywhere as I bend over and search for my knickers, bra, and thigh-length red party dress.

As I turn to face him again, my gaze drops to his groin. He’s grown, his erection a clearly defined ridge in his tan cinos.

I peer up into his dark, narrowed eyes. ‘You must struggle to hide that sometimes.’

His lips become sharp and menacing. ‘You’re very lucky that there are people out there.’

‘Are you bigger than most guys?’ I ask, ignoring his provocative tone.

‘You wanna talk about cocks with me? That’ll help hide it.’

I giggle and begin to dress. ‘I’ve only ever really seen yours up close.’

His brow lifts. ‘Up close?’

‘Well, I saw Bronson’s, but only for a moment.’

‘Hmm.’ His lips twitch. ‘Let’s keep it that way.’

My fingers fumble for my zipper as Max moves behind me, closing the space between us. He kisses my shoulder and I quiver. His fingers touch the slither of skin between the open zip. I inhale, waiting. Wanting. . .

The zip slides up.

‘No. You’re not sweet at all.’ I breathe out fast, spinning to face him.

My body melts under his smile. It’s boyish and real.

‘I wanna hold your hand, but it’s not a good idea out there,’ he says as his smile loses its shine. ‘Stay close to me. Let’s go get a drink.’

I follow him out, passing the banquet tables and groups of people standing around talking, until we get to the bar where Bronson, Xander, Clay, and three other men I don’t know are sitting on bar stools. One of the nameless men is hard to ignore with his craggy face, scratched and craterous. He isn’t drinking or conversing; I get the impression he’s not simply a guest.

A guard perhaps.

The Butcher brothers all look dapper in their dress pants and shirts. My God they have good genes.

I peer around the room. ‘Where’s Flick?’

‘She’s with Stacey. They left just after the show,’ Xander answers me as he peers around the room, his eyes missing nothing.

Bronson smirks. ‘You look flushed.’

I smile back. ‘Thanks for pointing that out.’

Aurora suddenly appears in front of me. ‘You were wonderful. Thank you so much. You did my twenty-five fouettés!’ She engulfs me in her long, elegant arms.

Bronson mouths over her shoulder. ‘You were.’

Clay gives me a thumbs up and a wink.

I smile. ‘Thank you. I’m glad you liked it.’

‘You’re coming tomorrow, right?’ She holds my shoulders out in front of her. ‘You know you’re invited. I’ve placed you next to your sister.’

‘Thank you. I’d love to.’

‘Aurora,’ someone calls.

She glances over to them and nods. ‘Sorry to rush off, Cassidy. Today is all about me.’

Max laughs once. ‘As opposed to every other day?’

Clay clears his throat to disguise a chuckle and Aurora slices him up with her eyes. Bronson and Xander make whipping sounds as I swallow a giggle.

She smirks at Max. ‘Just this once, I’m going to replace your snide remarks amusing.’

Aurora disappears and several middle-aged men approach me to thank me for the performance. They shake my hand and kiss my cheeks, enveloping me in the smell of smoke and alcohol. Max hands me a champagne before positioning himself behind me with a stance rather business-like and stiff.

I’m on my third champagne when the boys begin to argue over who had won at paintball yesterday. I swivel on the stool to look around the club. Many people seem to have retired for the evening. I notice Jimmy Storm’s and Luca Butcher’s table is empty, the two having relocated to a booth with several other men. They are consumed in a private conversation as they drink liquor from short glasses and grit cigars between their teeth. Their wives are still greeting other guests, giving them light hugs so as not to crease their dresses and kissing cheek to cheek so as not to smear their lipstick. They nurse red wine in large glasses as they natter on with polite smiles.

Max’s lips touch my ear, making me shiver in the best kind of way. ‘We’ll be back. Stay with Xan.’

I want to grab him and feel his mouth on mine. We have been so close all night and yet so far away it’s excruciating. I watch closely as Max, Bronson, and Clay approach Jimmy and Luca’s group. They converse and it’s all very formal. The whole table suddenly shifts their gazes to me, so I dart my eyes to Xander, but he’s leaning across the bar, trying to get the staff’s attention. Willing myself not to look back at them, I pull out my phone and pretend to read from the display. I peek up just as Clay sits down beside his dad, and Bronson and Max wander slowly back towards us.

Max grins at me. ‘Alright, little one, let’s make a move.’

Bronson sits back down with Xander and addresses the bartender. ‘Excuse me, lovely, do you mind getting us another round?’

Standing up, I follow Max outside. He straddles his bike and I swing my leg over. Navigating our way through the sea of bikes and scooters, we ride back towards the villa. The streets are lit up with neon signs and a kind of glowing, ambient fog. This time when I press my cheek to his warm back and squeeze him with my thighs and arms, I’m not pretending. And maybe it’s not forever, but for right now, he is my someone.

As soon as we get off the bike, he lifts me up and I cup his jaw. We kiss passionately, moaning into each other’s mouths. His hands massage up and down my back as he walks us through the villa and to the wicker lounge beside the pool. He sits down with me wrapped around him and I kneel, straddling his thighs.

We pet and fondle each other. His lips and tongue move around my face and neck as if he wants to taste me, so I lift my chin up to let him explore. I moan. He moves to my shoulder and chest, then bites my breast through the fabric of my dress. The sudden opening of the door cuts through my whimpers of pleasure.

With my nipple tightly pinched between his teeth, Max grumbles. ‘Fuck.’

Stacey walks outside, stilling when she sees us. ‘Oh. My bad.’

I giggle and cover Max’s scowling face with my palm. ‘All good. Come sit with us. Where’s Flick?’

‘She’s in bed,’ she says, sitting on the single chair.

Max pulls my hand from his face, his expression tight. ‘Stacey. We’re in the middle of something!’

Stacey turns. ‘Okay. I’ll leav-‘

‘No, don’t go,’ I plead. ‘Are you two okay?’

She smiles tightly. ‘We will be. It’s okay. Honeymoon period’s over, but we-‘

As I slide off Max’s lap, he groans and drops his head back onto the rest. ‘For fuck’s sake. Boner’s gone anyway.’

I try not to giggle at him again. ‘Would you mind getting me a night cap then?’

His brows draw together, and he’s either going to scold me, throw me onto his mattress, or kill me. He chews back a comment and talks through a tight jaw. ‘What would you like, Your Highness?’

I curl my lips together to squash a smile. ‘A port please. Stacey?’

The whites of Stacey’s eyes are glowing. ‘Nothing,’ she squeaks.

Max walks off towards the kitchen, muttering, ‘You’re in so much fucking trouble.’

‘Cassidy!’ Stacey leans towards me. ‘I’ve seen girls get dragged out by the arm for less than that.’

‘I asked nicely. I think it’s good for him.’

She sits back. ‘Never do that in front of his dad. . . Oh my God, or Jimmy.’

I shuffle back. ‘I wouldn’t.’

She shakes her head in disbelief. ‘I’m not even sure what I just saw.’

‘What? Can’t I ask my boyfriend to get me a drink?’

She coughs. ‘Your boyfriend?’

I glance around nervously. ‘I didn’t mean boyfriend.’

Footsteps approach and Stacey’s face becomes ashen.

‘What did you mean then?’ Max asks, taking long casual steps towards us.

I cover my face. ‘Oh my God. Stop it, Max.’

‘There are so many better things you could call me,’ he says. I peek out from behind my fingers and gaze up into his smirking face. ‘Your Highness.’ He hands me the port glass, but retracts it inches from my outstretched fingers. ‘Don’t push it,’ he warns.

I stare at him with sultry eyes. ‘What should I call you? Like, a menace? Master?’

He presses his teeth together like he’s imagining me between them. ‘Like, Oh My Max.’

Stacey shoots up. ‘If this is your version of foreplay, I should go.’ Stacey smiles nervously and walks towards the door.

Max glowers at her, his eyes narrowed into slits. ‘Stacey!’ His tone is authoritarian, and she stops mid-step. ‘Who the fuck do you think you are? Huh? Let me make myself perfectly clear, when I’m with Cassidy, you pretend you’re deaf and blind.’

Stacey swallows hard. ‘Sorry.’ It’s meek, submissive, and so not like her. I wince on her behalf. Eyes downcast, Stacey hurries through the sliding door and disappears into the villa.

My back hits the cushion, and I crane my head as I frown up at Max. ‘What was that about? She made a joke.’

He slides down beside me and lifts my thighs onto his lap. ‘She thought she could make a remark about our conversation.’

‘It was. . . a joke.’

‘So?’ He runs his tongue across his teeth and shrugs once. ‘I don’t appreciate commentary.’

‘Friends tease each other; that’s what they do.’

‘She isn’t my friend.’

I touch his cheek. ‘Max.’

He drapes his arm over the headrest. ‘How did you get into ballet?’

‘Master of the -‘

‘Subtle Transition.’

We smile at each other.

‘Well, how’s my transition?’ I hesitate, choking on my own words for a moment before I can build up the strength to say them. ‘I’m going to go on the pill when I get home.’ I swallow. ‘Have you been tested lately?’ I’m so nervous asking this question that I’m literally trembling.

He just grins. ‘I never go bare. I get tested all the time. I’m so proud you had the guts to ask though.’

My heart fills with him. ‘Cool.’

‘Now, how did you get into ballet?’

‘I went to the ballet with my dad and Konnor when I was six. We saw The Nutcracker. The District Academy has performed that ballet at Christmas every year for decades. From the moment I saw it, I wanted to be Clara.’

He strokes my thigh. ‘But you’re not this year.’

‘No. But I have been her for the past four years. This year I wanted to show my diversity. And a really great ballerina named Ana got the part of Clara.’

He chuckles. ‘You hate her.’

‘I don’t. She’s lovely.’

‘You want her killed.’

I laugh. ‘No. I didn’t audition for Clara this year. She’s best suited to a younger ballerina.’ I stare at him as he gazes at me. The both of us are entwined on the lounge while the sounds of mountainous Ubud echoes in the distance.

It’s past midnight. It’s just him and me. Sometimes I feel as if there is a Max and Cassidy world. . . and then there’s the complicated dark world we share with everyone else.

He caresses my face with his eyes. ‘I’m kinda pissed I’d never gone with Jimmy to see a performance now.’

I cuddle my knees and gaze at him. ‘Why?’

‘I would’ve had some great wank material.’

‘Crude.’

‘I might have met you sooner.’

I lean in to kiss him. ‘Sweet.’

‘To taste your pussy sooner.’

‘Max!’

We drink a lot of port as we talk throughout the night and into the early morning. Well, I talk. He mostly listens. I admit I saw him play rugby against Konnor a few years ago and couldn’t keep my eyes off him because he was. . . oh my gawd, so hot. He laughs.

I learn that Clay has a business degree. Xander is going to study law next year and Max is in his final semester of his Master of Architecture, which means he doesn’t have to attend lectures anymore or go to campus as much.

I get the feeling rugby is his real passion, but he brushes over sentimentalities and offers me short, cut answers to my questions. As such is Max Butcher’s way. That doesn’t take away from the information offered because, for once, he is actually answering me.

I wonder how he fits being a normal twenty-four-year-old in with the other side of his life.

When we finally crawl into bed, we share a pillow and Max spoons me.

‘Max?’

‘Hmm?’ He nuzzles my hair and tightens his arms around me. We lie above the white sheets. The ceiling fan above us is on high. The air is thick. My skin is flushed and my mind is fuzzy.

I stroke his arm. ‘When was the first time you knew you wanted to sleep with me?’

‘Oh fuck, Cassidy, I’m trying to sleep.’

‘Please.’ I wriggle around in front of him, knowing quite well my bum is brushing against his groin. My heart is beating so fast, I can’t relax, and I think I may have drank way too much.

‘No,’ he mumbles. ‘Another time. . . sleeping.’

‘Please? I can’t sleep.’

‘That’s because you drank half a bottle of port.’

‘Please.’

‘Fuck. Fine.’ He exhales against my shoulder, the heat of his breath cascading down my back. ‘I was in the alleyway next to Gyspy’s -‘

‘What? We first spoke at my birthday?’

‘Yeah. But I noticed you before your birthday. Don’t interrupt. You were picking up Flick or something and you must have come straight from ballet because you were in this pink leotard. You were leaning against your car with your ankles crossed and wearing these clunky red sneakers that were way too big for your feet.’

‘Momma said my shoes would take me anywhere. Momma said they’re my magic shoes.’ I begin to laugh deep from my belly. His silence makes my cheeks burn though, so I stop. ‘Seriously? Forest Gump?’ I giggle nervously. I imagine him wresting with a smile now. ‘Don’t stop. You know I’m weird. Tell me the rest. What did you think of me?’

He clears his throat. ‘I just wanted to stick my tongue in you that night. I thought that if pink had a taste, that’s what you’d taste like. Why wear anything? Those leotards are like spray paint.’

I grin into the pillow. ‘You remember what I was wearing?”

‘When a hot girl is half naked on the street, I usually remember that.”

I giggle. ‘Whatever. You like me.’

He pulls me in tighter and rests his chin on my head. ‘Yes, Cassidy. Let me sleep now.’