Author's Note: This one starts pretty spicy, right where Melody and Harry left off last chapter, so fair warning. Just a little more practice for my next career in writing trashy romance novels, haha. Then the story kicks in pretty quick from here. I guess I had to let the plot move forward at some point to keep this thing at 35 chapters.
Thank you all for reading and commenting 😊
The inn's narrow corridor was dark, the floorboards creaky, and the smell putrid as Harry carried Melody on his back toward their room. She took off his hat and buried her nose in his hair to mask the smell.
"Mmmm." The tickle of his hair and the scent of him had her legs squeezing tighter around his waist. "You smell so good."
Harry opened the third door on the left, turned around and locked it from inside. "What are yeh on about now?"
"Just how you smell so good." She peeled herself off his back and came around to face him, prodding two fingers against his chest. "I bet you taste just as good, too." She spun his hat across the tiny room and shoved him backward toward the bed, looking him up and down to be sure he took her meaning. "Let's find out."
The room wasn't much, threadbare sheets, a pillow so flattened and lumpy she would hesitate to call it a pillow anymore, and she sure as seas didn't want to know what those stains were on the bedspread.
But looking back at Harry, she couldn't give a guppy's gill what they were laying on, so long as he would just touch her some more.
She scooted Harry in reverse until the backs of his knees hit the mattress and she pushed him over. Harry's eyebrows stretched high enough to hide under his mess of dark hair and he laughed, a lilting carefree giggle and she was climbing onto him the way she had in the bar.
"Somehow I knew that drink would be like fire in yer veins, lass."
"I'm not drunk. I know exactly what I'm doing."
"Oh, I can see that," he said with a devious curl of his lip.
Harry captured her mouth in a long, meandering kiss and she couldn't think about anything beyond his lips and how they had an almost drugging effect on her. She was lost. His taste, his warmth, his touch and she was falling headlong into a swirl of sensation, drowning in him until her chest felt tight and achy.
Her hungry fingers found his hair, combing through it before grabbing on and pulling. His body seemed to melt underneath her with the rough treatment, so she did it again, this time tugging a little harder, jerking to angle his head, exposing the column of his neck to her mouth. He whined, a tiny little sound that had her noting exactly what she'd done to draw it from him, before bending to kiss the vulnerable skin she'd revealed.
And maybe the rum was fire in her veins because she was now yanking her own jacket off, stripping her shirt and bra, and grabbing his hands to press them against her bare chest. His calloused palms brushed across her over-sensitive skin and a rush of heat flooded her.
The flicker of the dim oil lamp in the corner made patterns of shadow on her body, on Harry's face, as his reverent gaze swept over her.
She could sense some loss of inhibition in the way his hands roved over the curves of her body. He was greedier, more forceful with the drink in his blood and maybe, so was she because now she was pulling his shirt off running her fingers over every part of him.
She moved off his waist to lower herself against his bare skin, chest to chest, lining herself up to feel the hard muscle of his thigh between her legs. She gasped at the shock of that contact, and dragged herself across his leg, rubbing down hard, focusing on feeding that heat he'd been building in her since the bar. He gripped her firm with one hand and pulled her hips down roughly to center her against him. She moaned, a breathy sound in his ear that had him raising his own hips to feel more of her.
Slick heat pooled between her thighs as she rode him through his pants, chasing that delicious friction, feeling the sway of his hips as he rolled like a wave below her.
He flipped her over in one fluid motion, and she whimpered from the loss of him. But he made up for it in the show he put on as he slowly unbuckled his belt, whipped it off, unbuckled another belt, and worked on another… sweet seas how many gods-damned belts and straps did one man need? Finally, he shimmied those narrow hips out of his breeches and shorts at the same time, leaving him completely bare.
"Harry," she whispered, unsure what she was even going to say as she drank him in with her eyes. She'd seen him like this before, but apparently it would take a few times to dilute the shock of how perfect he was.
The insufferable show-off smirked at her before crawling down onto the bed on his hands and knees. He knew she was aching for him. He knew exactly what he was doing when he'd stopped touching her. But still, he pinned her in place, purposely keeping distance between their bodies, playing dumb as he quirked his brow in question. "Aye lass?"
But all she could do was press her legs together to try to soothe the ache throbbing there.
"Tell me," he demanded, voice as piercing as his gaze now.
"I want you so bad," she whispered, trying to make herself breathe.
This pulled a satisfied smirk from one corner of his lip. "I knew yeh'd say that, lass." And in one smooth swipe he had her skirt in the pile on the floor. "That's why I had yeh set yer boundaries before, see? I learned me lesson."
Then he lowered himself onto her, skin on skin, only a very thin layer of fabric separating her from what she really needed. And her desire had somehow transformed into a cruel, aching torture, because now Harry knew what she liked and he was sucking and nipping her neck, probably leaving a trail of love bites for Jane to tease her about the next day. But Melody didn't care.
She could feel him right there, between her legs and she was so ready and ugh, why had she agreed to just tasting?
"Please." Her voice was tight and trembling, just like the rest of her. "I take it back. Not just tasting, I want you." She wrapped her hand around him, hearing his breath stick someplace in his throat.
"Nae," he said, harshly into her ear. "Yeh'll get what I give yeh, and naethin' more."
That thick brogue had her chest heaving, her skin singing for his touch.
He dipped his mouth low to lavish her breast with attention and she nearly lost it, arching her back, finding a sweet spot as she writhed against him. Liquid fire now flowed through her veins as Harry's hot mouth sucked and bit mercilessly, pulling a stream of unintelligible sounds from her lips and she rolled her hips, dragging slowly against him. And she thought, if he pulled away, if this delicious building of heat and need ever stopped she might beg him. She would beg him.
She rocked her hips again, crying out as the sensation unraveled into blinding lights across her vision and her muscles went taut. Sweet shocks of pleasure coursed through her as she clung to him, riding out the last waves of release. Her legs quavered as she drew in a few shivering breaths.
Even as her body stilled, her heart continued pounding a frenzied rhythm against Harry's chest. He dipped his head to nuzzle sweetly against her neck. "Och," he grunted, voice ragged, "I didnae even get to the tasting part yet."
She stared up at the loose boards and the gaping hole in the corner of the ceiling as her pulse slowed, wondering if she should be embarrassed that she'd just come by rubbing shamelessly against him through her underwear.
"Seas, Harry."
They were the only words she could muster at the moment. Her limbs were rubbery and useless and Harry braced himself to roll off her, but she managed a weak attempt to pull him back down.
"I'm sorry I ruined it," she said. "I still mean to get to the tasting part, just give me a second."
He braced himself on his elbows up to glare at her, with eyes that could cut through to the most hidden parts of her heart with a surgical precision. "Dinnae yeh ever apologize for summat like that. I want yeh to take yer pleasure with me any way yeh want. And never feel a lick of shame for it," he warned.
His tone was as serious as she had ever heard him and apparently, he wasn't finished yet. "Do yeh understand?"
And she did. She knew if the roles were reversed, she would want him to feel comfortable enough to enjoy everything about these moments together. But she couldn't shake that bothersome little voice telling her that she had no idea what she was doing. That she was disappointing him somehow.
She blinked up at him. "Yes, I understand, I just," she released a sigh, coming up short on words to explain what she was feeling. "You've done all of this before and I… well… I haven't."
Then he was looming over her, having pushed himself up onto his arms now. "That disnae matter one bit, 'cause I havenae done any of it with yeh, Melody."
He reached a hand to trace her cheek, then her forehead, using the rough pads of his fingers to smooth away the worry lines he found there. And when he looked at her now, the sharp edge in his eyes had dulled and he leaned down to kiss her.
This kiss was sweet, his lips liquid soft as he let them linger against hers. He pulled away slowly, and satisfied he'd made his point, he lowered himself back onto her.
His warmth and weight and the memory of that gentle kiss had her convinced he was telling her the truth. He shifted a bit, and she could feel him now pressed against her hip and she knew he still wanted her. Maybe he'd let her try what she'd been thinking about for the last few days.
His words had given her the courage she needed to make that very proposition and she slanted her chin closer to him, taking his earlobe between her teeth and breathing her intention against his skin. "So? Can I still taste you?"
"Yeh dinnae have to – "
"Harry," she said gripping his shoulders tight, "I want to."
He twitched where he was pressed up against her and she raised her hips to meet him, feeling his shoulders tense beneath her fingers with that slight contact. He definitely wanted her to.
She let her hands rove over his shoulders, his back, trailing the tips of her fingers down his sides and across the taut muscles of his stomach. His gaze latched onto her as she slid her hand past the dusting of dark hair below his naval and lower, brushing against his silky warmth and enfolding him in her palm. He hissed in a breath, then tipped his head back to gulp in another draught of air as if he'd forgotten the rhythm required for breathing.
Then curling her fingers around him, she stroked him, one long stroke after another. There were so many tiny expressions to discover as she watched his face. His lips parted as his breathing grew choppier, the tendons in his neck tensed and when she drew her hand up and down his length, his entire, powerful body began to tremble at her touch.
But Harry had more to teach her yet, and he seized the hand she'd been using to touch him and guided it down beneath the thin fabric of her underwear, to the slick of wetness between her legs. Then he brought her slippery fingers back to wrap around him.
And oh, yes that was much easier.
He slid against her palm now, making those mouthwatering low moans as he thrust into her hand, panting, body tense, warm and hard against her and…
She was surprised to find the stirrings of desire were already building in her again.
She urged him over onto his back and now it was her turn to gaze down at him. Nervous jitters had begun to flutter in her stomach. She'd never done anything like this before. But he'd said that didn't matter. And maybe it didn't, because experienced or not, it was obvious he was aching for her the way she'd been for him. She could tell by his face. Eyes closed, lips parted and breath coming short and fast. So, she tried to focus on him.
Thinking it would be easier to start up higher and work her way down, she began at his belly, having always wanted to kiss him there. So, she did, humming against his skin as she appreciated how he felt against her lips. She continued touching him, trailing her mouth lower, feeling his stomach ripple with tension as she sucked and kissed lower still, to meet her hand. She still had him firm in her grasp when she finally pressed her lips against that silken skin.
He sucked in a breath, and she wrapped her mouth around him completely, laving him with her tongue. That wrung out a low moan from deep in his throat, so she knew she was doing something right.
She lifted her eyes to find him watching her every move and the intensity of his gaze sent her heart pounding. She offered him one slow, dramatic swirl of her tongue just to show he wasn't the only one who could be theatrical.
"Remember when I said I wanted to learn all of the villainous skills there were to learn?" she asked, enjoying the way his whole body was tense, breath shallow as he waited for more of her touch. "Show me, Harry."
"Doesnae seem like yeh need much help," he rasped, jaw clenched.
When she wrapped her lips around him again, he gasped at the contact. He was salt and musk on her tongue, and she wondered how much of his taste had mingled with hers. All of these wicked thoughts had her grinding down against him where she was perched on his thigh.
He gripped her shoulder. "More lips," he breathed.
Trying to take the instruction she'd asked for, she rounded her lips, making sure she wasn't scraping him uncomfortably.
He guided her hands to hold him down low as she licked and kissed greedily, the lines of his face sharpening as his whole body tightened beneath her. The rise and fall of his chest became more violent and he was gripping the edges of the bed. His next command was so sensual, so raw, she knew she would imagine this moment later when she was alone. "Wetter."
She'd been afraid of being too messy, but the thought seemed silly now. This was Harry, the more visceral and chaotic, the better.
His moans and whimpers and the rock of his hips were her guidance as she learned how to pleasure him the way he liked. Self-consciousness drained from her, replaced with the flush of his cheeks in the dim light, the tightening of his hands as he fisted the bedspread, and his feverish gaze begging her for more as they locked eyes.
He'd begun to thrust against her mouth, which took some adjustment, but the sounds he was making, oh sweet seas she was already aching for him again when his body went rigid, and he dug his fingers into her shoulders, shuddering with the intensity of his climax.
She hoped these walls were thicker than they looked.
Harry sank back onto the bed completely limp, staring at her with eyes soft, almost luminous as the lamplight played across his face. She gently cleaned them both up and laid down on top of him. His skin was burning hot, and their bodies stuck together as she felt his breath gradually slow beneath her until he sighed, a long, satisfied exhalation against her neck.
She rested her head on his chest, drawing shivers from him any time she shifted her weight. After a while of focusing on nothing but the steady beat of his heart underneath her ear, it seemed Harry remembered he could move, and he wrapped her up in his arms.
"I didnae deserve that from yeh." He breathed the words into her hair. "I dinnae really deserve yeh at all."
And she could not stand to hear that tone in his voice, the one he buried under all of that bluster and swagger. The tone that spoke to how he really felt sometimes, because of his past. Because of his father.
"There's summat I should tell – "
Melody interrupted, clutching the sides of his face between her two hands and stared into those ocean blue depths as deeply as she dared. "Stop. You deserve to be happy, Harry."
And maybe he believed her, or maybe she would have to say it a thousand times before it became his truth. But she was up for the challenge.
When Harry kissed her now, with the taste of him still on her tongue, his lips yielded softly to hers and it felt… sad. It was another of those kisses where she knew he was trying to tell her something that he didn't have the words for quite yet.
They lay still for a while, and Harry began combing through her hair with his fingers.
"I could do this all night with yeh, Melody. Yer so beautiful," he said. "Even when we're apart, if I'm workin' or in class, it makes my heart squeeze to think about yeh."
And there he was peeling back more layers for her. Laying himself bare, trying to trust her.
She pressed her forehead to his. "You're not so bad yourself," she teased. "And if I had to choose between you and the last jar of jalapenos… I'd choose – "
"If you say the devil pickles I will never speak to you again," he warned, a teasing glint in his eye.
She laughed and rubbed her cheek against his. "Aww, come on Harry. You must know without me saying it. I don't know what I'd do without you."
This must have struck something inside of him because he was shifting her off, trading places to climb over her. His gentle eyes had sharpened, and he wore a hungry look now, like a predator about to devour its prey.
"My turn to taste yeh," he said. "Lie down, lass."
A shock of desire jolted through her again at the thought of him putting his mouth on her. And it was her turn to shiver when he dragged his hands over her bare breasts, down to her stomach, wiggling strong fingers under the waistband of her panties to tug them down.
"Let's make another wager, eh?" he crooned, glancing at her from under the mussed hair that had fallen over his eyes. "I bet I can have yeh beggin' for me in under five minutes."
Then the little brat actually bent over to where he'd stripped off his clothes and pulled out his pocket watch to place it on the bed.
"If I win, yeh join me in the broom closet during me next shift," he said, lip curled seductively.
"And what if I win?" she breathed.
"There's nae chance of that, lass."
And with that proclamation, he spread her legs and began his torturous assault. Beginning with the backs of her knees, he trailed kisses higher and higher up her thighs, building an agonizing anticipation for his mouth on her as desire wound tight in her stomach. But right when she thought she would finally feel him there, he started back down on the other leg. She squirmed and writhed as he got close until she nearly buried her hands in his hair and pushed his mouth where she wanted it.
"That's one minute." Harry's hot breath was right against the place she ached so fiercely and she arched her hips, hoping he would relent and touch her already.
He smirked and dipped his head down again, running his hands along her thighs…
She stiffened with the loud knock on the door.
Harry bolted upright, stark naked and grabbed for his sword first out of instinct. "Busy here, mate," he snarled toward the interruption.
"I'm sure you are," a low, rattling voice teased through the door. "But your time is up."
"I paid for at least two hours -"
The growly voice cut him off. "That's not what I mean by your time is up. Captain Sparrow wants to talk to the mermaid. Now."
Melody sprang from the bed, adrenaline surging through her as she dressed. Her heartbeat was thunder in her ears, half-smothering the sound of a second hammering knock at the door.
In seconds she was fully dressed, dagger strapped to her thigh, sword at her side. Harry did the same before they were both frantically searching for a way out, feeling around for loose boards or any way to escape besides the door. But there were no windows, no vents, no anything. And fighting their way out was risky when who knew how many men stood beyond the door?
If they were men at all.
A shudder passed through her body and she felt the blood drain from her face.
Stupid, stupid, stupid.
Was it the trio of pirates in the Scrum and Chum that tipped off Sparrow? She should have listened to Harry. She should have listened to her own gut feeling. Why hadn't she listened?
And now they were trapped.
She was fighting off a wave of dizziness when a thought struck her. Something she'd seen when she'd been staring at the ceiling in her satiated haze. She remembered the loose boards, the hole in the ceiling leading to seas knew what.
Harry's eyes followed her raised index finger, lifting to the ceiling to see what she'd been thinking about.
"I'm way too big to fit in there," he whispered. "You hide. They dinnae want me. They want yeh and yer locket."
She tried to keep her voice whisper light, but it was very difficult with how much she wanted to scream at him. "I'm not going to leave you to them, you can fit, you – "
His eyes demanded her obedience, flashing anger and he stepped into her, not afraid to use his imposing size against her if he had to. "Yeh'll squeeze up there and hide. And dinnae argue anymore about it."
Golden flecks of pixie dust danced around her as Harry sprinkled it over her head and shoulders and did the same to himself, before stowing the vial back in his jacket.
He whispered the next word into her ear, and now it was Harry begging. "Please," he said, finishing with a light brush of his lips against her cheek.
She wanted to shout at him, to just force him to stay with her. She knew Harry couldn't handle Sparrow's crew on his own. But really what other choice did they have? At least this way, one of them could escape to get help.
She swallowed hard, closed her eyes and nodded once.
"Don't have all night," the rough voice said, now pulling forcefully at the handle, causing the entire door to rattle on its hinges.
"I'll make me escape soon as I can," he said. "Yeh get up there and stay put 'til yer a hundred percent certain they're gone."
She kissed him, gathering fuel for her happy thought, and floated to the corner of the ceiling where she'd seen a loose board right next to a small broken slat hanging at an awkward angle. Praying it would rotate enough to let her pass, she raised her arms above her head and shimmied up under the faulty board. It was just wide enough to allow her hips to follow through.
The space above the room was ridiculously tight, only about a foot wide between roof and ceiling, and pitch black. But she had no choice but to wiggle farther in until she was sure her boots weren't hanging out.
Claustrophobia was an instant choke-hold on her throat.
The air was thick with dust and as she pulled herself along, she felt a thousand repulsive sensations under her fingers. Something hard and pebbly, a fuzzy mass of fur, shredded pieces of grass or… sea spit. If this was a rat's nest she was going to puke.
Now that she was far enough into the crawlspace to be completely hidden, she just needed to find a crack to peek through in the ceiling boards. Because worse than being crammed into a tight space in the dark, was being crammed in the dark not knowing what was going on down below.
Finally, she found a suitable gap between the boards and caught a glimpse of Harry just as he pulled the door open.
