Cona Island

Chapter 9

They went back to the Reef Bungalow. And when Melody stepped through the door, she felt her chest constrict with sadness, but she was careful to keep her expression light. There was very little in the bungalow, and what was there was broken or worn, cast aside, just like Drake had been.

But she did see that he had started on fixing the place up. The chemical smell of fresh paint hit her nose, and she could see that he had replaced some of the damaged floorboards. He had sanded some of the furniture, and applied varnish. He had taken the armchair apart, and was busy fixing it. The faucets at the sink looked new. And on the outside, she had noticed that he’d cleared some of the brush in front, and fixed the trims of the roof. He’d cleaned out the growing, green sea monster there too.

“Does someone live here?” she asked jokingly, trying to lighten her sadness with humour. He laughed a little. “You’ve been busy,” she added. “It’s a lot of work for one guy…”

“I’m not afraid of work.”

Just then Bean ran in from one of the bedrooms. He liked to sleep on the plastic on the floors where Drake was painting. Melody gasped when she saw the fat grey striped cat and bent down. He leapt straight into her arms.

“Hello! Who’s this?” she rubbed him behind the ears and nuzzled her face into his fur. His purring was the only sound she heard in the bungalow besides the waves of the ocean.

“That’s Bean. He kind of owns the place. He was here before me, but he figures he’d struck gold now with all the tuna he gets.”

“I didn’t know you were a Daddy!” Melody teased.

Drake snorted. “I am not his Daddy.”

She pouted and rubbed Bean’s flank with her fingers. “Sure you’re not.”

Then she saw the guitar against the wall. She gasped again and her eyes widened. She set Bean down, who started washing his butt on the floor. “Do you play?” she asked excitedly.

“I used to. I haven’t tried since the accident.”

“Do you sing too?”

He winced. He had hoped that she wouldn’t ask that question. Because he was never going to lie to her. “I used to…”

Her jaw dropped. “In front of people?”

He nodded. “I used to play and sing when my buddies and I went out. I played the guitar, and Steven played drums. Sometimes other local bands would allow us to do a few songs with them, just for the nights we were there. We moved a lot from one place to the next. Sometimes we went to a local joint to cut loose a little between missions. Never visited the same place twice in the same week.”

“Let me hear it! Please, please! I promise I won’t laugh.”

“Mel, I don’t even know if I can still play with my hearing,” He thought he might be able to. It was a classic guitar and only had five notes really. But he hadn’t tuned it since the last time he played, and he didn’t know if he would be able to hear enough to tune it correctly if he tried now.

Maybe she could help. He rubbed his eyes. What the hell is she doing to me? Why can’t I say no to her?

“This is hardly a fair game you’re playing, you know…” he scolded.

She put on an innocent expression. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Then she sat down on his worn couch expectantly, crossing her legs.

He sighed, picked up the guitar and sat next to her. He had to admit, even if knives of nerves were cutting into his belly, it felt really good to hold the guitar in his hands again. “Just let me find the tune,” he said, and she nodded.

He tugged at the strings a little, trying to listen. Then he tried to find a tune he knew by heart. He was surprised to find that he could actually hear most of it, but he wasn’t sure if he was hearing it correctly or if his brain was filling in the gaps for him.

“How’s it sound?”

She nodded encouragingly with a huge smile on her face. “Perfect. Can you hear it?”

“I think so. I’m just not sure if it’s the way it should be.”

“Try a song,” Melody suggested.

He thought for a moment, sighing. Then he slanted her a look. “Oh, I know exactly the right one for you.”

He started playing. She knew the song, and heard that he altered the lyrics to suit him on the fly.

The world was on fire and no one could save me but you

It's strange what desire will make foolish people do

I never dreamed that I'd meet somebody like you

And I never dreamed that I'd love somebody like you

Oh I wanna fall in love

with you

What a wicked game you play, to make me feel this way

What a wicked thing to do, to let me dream of you

What a wicked thing to say, you never felt this way

What a wicked thing to do, to make me dream of you

Her smile split her face and her heart swelled with pride. He had an amazing voice. And she didn’t think he realized how good he really was. She didn’t have anything to compare it to, but she didn’t notice him having any difficulties despite his hearing problem.

He cleared his throat awkwardly when he finished. She let him hang, just for the fun of it.

“What?” he finally asked, looking baffled. Christ, was I that bad?

“That. Was. Awesome. Ohmygod! You were amazing!”

He snorted, putting the guitar next to the couch. “Come on, Mel.”

“I’m serious! You should play something at Brad’s party.”

Her enthusiasm all but strangled him. “Are you sure? There would be additional noise around us, it might be more difficult for me than it was here.”

“You were amazing just now, you sounded like a rock star! Maybe you’ll struggle a little, but I doubt it would be much, especially if it’s a song you know by heart. Besides, nobody’s going to question it. They don’t know how good you were, or are until you show them. They don’t have anything to compare it to...”

She straightened proudly where she sat and raised her nose. “And if they don’t like it, screw them. I’ll love it!”

He stared at her with that soft gaze and lightly shook his head. “When do I go splat?”

“Eh?”

“I keep falling for you, I was just wondering when I would hit the bottom of the depths and go splat.”

He brushed a lock of hair out of her face, then leaned in and kissed her. Long and slow and tender, with expertly gauged pressure that sent heat slicing through her. When he released her lips, he saw them quiver. Her breath came out in soft pants.

“Mel,” he hesitated. She crushed her lips to his, tugging him to her by his hair. She opened her mouth, inviting his tongue to dance and tangle. His whiskers ticked and scratched, sending even more heated prickles across her skin.

She brought her hands down to the hem of his shirt. Even though she had never been intimate before, her body just took over. She was needy for him, and judging by the urgency with which he kissed her, he needed her just as much, she could smell his arousal.

Her hands found his bare flesh beneath his shirt. Hot, hard rippling muscle. The touch of him made her moan, his flesh felt on fire beneath her hands. His tongue demonstrated what he wanted to do with her body in a deep, drowning kiss. But this had to be special, and he was not doing it on a worn fourth-hand couch. He pulled her up with him, then lifted her up, and she wrapped her legs around his hips.

“See? You’re still a man, you’re carrying me.” She smiled softly at him, her lips swollen and red, eyes wild with passion. It drove him mad with need.

He carried her to the bedroom, and gently laid her down on his bed, settling above her. Her cheeks flushed. She loved his weight above her. His hands slid over her body, his mouth found her neck, and he fed on her there. She let out a soft moan of pleasure that sent an arrow of lust down his back. He ached for her already, but her pleasure came first. She felt his erection press against her body, and felt the urge to grind against him. This time, she could. The fact that they were still fully dressed made it even more carnal. She moved her hips, and he let out a throaty groan that vibrated against her.

She pulled off his shirt. He silently looked into her eyes, asking permission. She gave him a nod. He pulled off her tank. Then he trailed lazy kisses from her breastbone down to the hem of her shorts. The warmth of his lips on her bare skin sent little shivers of delight through her. His hands roamed, and hers did the same, feeling a myriad of scars over his chest, back and arms. Some big or long, others smaller. He stopped to look at her again. She swallowed, and unclasped the front of her bra, holding his gaze. He moved the fabric away and drank her in with his eyes.

“You’re beautiful,” he murmured.

Her heart constricted, and she trailed her finger along a big scar over his chest. She swallowed hard, thinking of how much pain he must have been in, and he saw her eyes tear up slightly. She lifted her head and kissed the scar, giving it love. He fell even harder for her.

He lowered his head and his lips closed over her n****e, sucking and nipping with his teeth. She gasped and bowed up. He teased her, then gave the other one the same attention. His hand roamed down, over her belly, and his eyes flashed up to hers, checking if she was still okay. She nodded again. And his hand disappeared into her shorts, and cupped her between her legs. She let out a gasp that made his manhood jerk in anticipation. She was a beautiful swollen, hot, wet mess. And he had barely touched her.

“Please…” she begged. She could feel how hard he was against her. She wanted him, clenched for him in emptiness.

He slipped a finger inside her and her head arched back, eyes slammed shut. Then he slipped in another, and started moving them in and out in a slow, steady rhythm. He’d never felt so connected to a woman, been so consumed by desire. She’d wormed in so deep into his heart, that she had become a part of him. Every sound, every shiver made him ache for her. Need pooled and tightened as she climbed the peak. Arching…reaching...

“Please…” she breathed.

“You need to relax and open a bit more before you can fit me,” He breathed, then crushed his mouth to hers. He needed to feel her let go as much as she needed to.

His thumb zeroed in on the spot where she craved it most, his fingers pushing into her, earning a long, lustful moan. She was so tight, so wet, a groan fell from his lips. She clenched around him, and her head fell back as she surrendered to release. He strained painfully against his jeans as he thought of how good it would feel to have her tightening around him like that. She held onto him firmly as she trembled through her orgasm. Her cries of pleasure nearly undid him, he grit his teeth to hold onto his control.

She became limp in his arms, and stared at him with glazed eyes. Her hand drifted down to his belt.

He swallowed, remembering his leg. “Mel,”

She cupped his face, seeing his discomfort. “It’s okay,” she whispered, “I love you. Trust me.”

He looked pained for a moment, then he buried his face in her hair, breathing in her sweet, floral scent.

She tangled her fingers through his hair, holding onto him. “This is new for both of us. I want you. Please.”

“I have to sit on the edge of the bed to do it.” He said softly.

“I’ll help you, if you want.”

She felt him nod in her neck, then he came back up and went off to the side of the bed. She sat behind him, allowing her hands to roam over his chest. He pulled off his boots. And she got the first look of his prosthetic foot. He paused then and turned his head to look into her eyes, searching for signs of hesitation or even revulsion. He saw nothing but love and warmth.

She stroked his scalp. “I love you.” She said again, like it was a salve that she could rub over a raw wound.

He loosened his belt, and unfastened his jeans. There was no sexy way to do it. And he would be nervous no matter how else he tried it, he decided. It made it easier to just get it over with. He sighed, and then lifted his hips and pulled down the jeans.

She bit back tears when she saw the condition of what was left of his leg. Whole pieces of flesh was gone, and the shape of it was twisted. What was left must have been very strong for him to be able to still walk on it, though she couldn’t think that he didn’t have at least a little discomfort, if not pain, if he spent long hours on it.

She could all but feel the dread that set in, and she could see that his eyes filled with tears too. His breathing became shaky with emotion. She gently roamed her hands over him, over his heart, and tenderly kissed his neck from behind, fingering his hair. “It’s okay,” she comforted, “I love you. It’s okay.” She paused with her hand over his heart. “This is beautiful to me. This is what I love.”

He took off the prosthetic leg. And she climbed off the bed to kneel by him. He looked as he felt – incredibly vulnerable. She smiled gently at him, and slowly removed his lining. She had to make him feel safe, as he had her. Then she kissed his stump, and ran her hands ever so gently over his mangled thigh. His heart ached with love for her then.

When she finished loving his leg, she came back up and climbed onto the bed, dragging him with her. They struggled out of the last of their clothing. And he continued kissing her, needing time to recover from his ordeal. She allowed his soul to rest in his caressing of her. When the crown if his shaft hovered at her entrance, she looked at him pleadingly. He intertwined his fingers with hers, held her hands firmly to the mattress, as he positioned himself above her.

“Don’t look away, Mel.” He whispered. She nodded. “Are you afraid?”

“Not of you,” she murmured.

She wasn’t afraid of what would happen, just if her body might not get used to it. She had googled and read so many romance novels, she knew everything even if she had never done it before.

Then she peeked down at him, and her eyes widened. God, he was well endowed, and so heavy-hung…She tugged on her lower lip with her teeth. She wondered if she’d even be able to take all of him in.

“Tell me if I have to stop,”

She held his gaze like a kind of lifeline as he slowly pushed inch by inch into her. Her breath hitched, and so did his.

“Does it hurt?” he bit out. It was excruciating for him to go so slow when he ached for her so much, but he didn’t want to hurt her.

“No,” she pressed her lips together, “It’s just pressure. Don’t stop.”

He continued his descent into her, pulling out slightly and pushing back in to allow her to adjust to his size. She felt amazing, tight as a fist. When he felt she was ready, he pushed in to the hilt, and she gasped, clinging to his neck.

He lay still, allowing them both to just feel the connection, to adjust. Sweat beaded on his forehead from the effort of his restraint against the exquisite pressure around him, and the urgent need to move.

He started kissing her neck. “You feel so good, Mel. I really need to move now,”

She nodded. His strokes were long and slow and evenly paced, he pressed his forehead to hers. Both of them battled to keep their eyes open with the weight of the pleasure. He stretched her so exquisitely, filled every crevice of her. She met him, thrust for desperate thrust, driving them both up to peak. When she saw him shut his eyes and clench his jaw, she thought the worst. “Is it your leg? Does it hurt?” she asked, concerned.

He frowned at her slightly. “No, it doesn’t bother me at all.” He said breathlessly, “I’m just trying to save my sanity...”

He moved faster now, and inside both of them need pulsated and built, coiling tighter and tighter with each thrust. She could feel him swell impossibly harder inside her, feel every throb, every pulsing of his heart. Deep kisses, roaming hands, moans and groans.

“Mel,” he panted, “I have to come…” he bit out. The ache inside him was pulsing, threatening closer with every thrust.

She nodded her approval. Her own need was drawn tight like a bowstring, ready to snap.

He held her gaze, and she watched his eyes go dark just before her own went blind. Her world tilted on its axis as she fell off the edge, and when his name sailed from her lips, she dragged him over with her.

He let out a strangled groan against her neck, and his body shuddered with the force of his release as he emptied his seed inside her. They lay just like that for a while, she wasn’t sure how long, recovering from the aftershocks.

The atmosphere in the room was thick from their lovemaking.

A little while later, Melody started giggling. “Hey Drake, I think my hands and feet are falling asleep.”

He sighed, resigned. Then rolled off her. “What were we talking about?” he asked dazedly.

“I have no idea,” she laughed.

He turned to her, and rubbed against her side. Her eyes widened. He was semi-hard. “So soon?”

He grinned wickedly. “Are you too sore?”

She lightly shook her head. “You never hurt me…I can’t believe you’re ready to go again.”

He groaned and nuzzled her neck. “I’m a starving man...”