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Ten
Malakai
I’ve been lyingon my bed tossing and turning for the past couple hours. Even rubbing one out hasn’t helped my attitude any or relieved me enough to get a good night’s sleep.
She’sstillon my mind. More so given I imagined it was her hand wrapped around my cock instead of my own.
“Fuck this…” I grumble, slamming my clenched fist against my mattress. “I just need to get laid.”
I’ve been at sea too long. I’ve been without a woman’s touch for even longer. This is just the consequences of ignoring my needs. Problem is, there really isn’t much choice here. Lola is out of the question. She’s my friend and I won’t cross that line with her, and as far as I can tell there are more fishermen than women.
You only want one woman, Malakai, a little voice inside my head goads me.
“God damn it!” I slam my head back on the pillow. “She’s a kid. She’s Annabelle and Blake’s kid. No!” I yell, then slam my mouth shut when I hear someone step onto my boat.
“Hey, Malakai, wanna come for a drink, mate?”
It’s Rob.
No, I fucking don’t. I want to get off this island and far, far away from Connie goddamn Silva.
“Let me buy you a beer?” he questions, stepping down uninvited into my boat. I grind my teeth, so I don’t tell him to fuck right off.
“I’ve got an early start,” I lie. More like I’ll lose my head if I walk into Lola’s Shack and see Connie, but I don’t tell him that.
“Just one beer? I could use the company of someone who isn’t one of my crew. I love those guys, but I spend every day with them… Besides, I’m gonna need some help making sure none of those arseholes go after Connie and her girlfriends.”
“What?!” I snap, launching myself upright. “They better fucking not!”
Rob laughs. “You might not have noticed but there aren’t many eligible females on the island and now that you’re back, Lola’s taken and isn’t available…” his voice trails off and his body language tells me he thinks he’s overstepped the mark. Frankly, Lola could’ve shagged the whole damn island for all I care, she’s her own woman, and certainly not mine. Still, I don’t correct him. If he thinks Lola and I are together then that’s just fine, it covers up the fact I’m hankering after a kid half my age, for fuck’s sake. My blood is already boiling at the thought some other motherfucker might be after her.
“Give me a second to grab my shoes,” I reply, pulling on my work boots before stomping down the aisle. “Let’s get that beer.”
Rob chuckles, raising an eyebrow. “Thirsty after all?”
I glance at him. “You’ve no idea.”
In the two minutes it takes to walk to Lola’s Shack, my attitude hasn’t calmed any. I’m seething at the thought that another man might be trying it on with Connie. When we reach the shack, the place is heaving and my stomach drops. The thin walls are practically vibrating with the sound of music pumping through the wood and boisterous merriment, and by merriment I mean drunk arseholes acting like dicks. How the fuck Lola gets away with this, I don’t know. I’m pretty sure selling alcohol without a licence is illegal. Still, as far as I’ve been able to establish in the short time I’ve been here, the one and only police officer is retired and there’s no current replacement. I don’t think anyone is going to tell on her either. I get the distinct impression that Lola is very much loved by the island dwellers. Figures. She’s very likeable.
“Budweiser okay?” Rob asks me as we step inside.
“Yeah, that’d work,” I respond, my attention immediately drawn to the three girls surrounded by several sweaty, thirsty fishermen, and by thirsty I don’t mean for beer.
Motherfuckers.
Rob notices my scowl. “I’ll have a word,” he says.
Nodding tightly, I step into the shack, sliding my back against the wall and take my measure of the place. Lola is behind the counter, pulling beers from a fridge and handing them to a guy I recognise as one of Rob’s crew. When Rob reaches him, he leans over and says something into his ear, jerking his thumb over his shoulder. The guy nods in understanding. He makes his way through the crowd, towards Connie and her friends. I can’t help but notice the way he stares at Connie who, so far, hasn’t noticed I’ve entered the shack.
She’s waving her arms in the air, swaying in time to the music. Her eyes are pressed shut, her hair plastered to her head, a sheen of sweat covering her skin. I catch glimpses of her between the crowd. Her mouth parts, her pink lips moving as she sings along to the song.
Like everyone else, I’m mesmerised.
Fucking mesmerised.
Despite the volume of the music, I swear I can hear her sweet, but powerful voice. The lilt of her accent, it’s slight and only noticeable to someone like me who’s spent more time away from this island than living here. I’m transfixed, unable to take my eyes off her even if I wanted to.
She’s beautiful.
