history, huh?

The stranger (“Frank,” he had murmured in her ear earlier, boxing her in at the bar in a way that made her toes curl) made her laugh during his (truly terrible) rendition of I Won’t Back Down. Somehow, over the din of the crowd and the music, he caught her laugh. His grin had widened, bright blue eyes crinkling as he pointed at her while singing “hey baby.”

And when Samira convinced Mel to sing Dancing Queen, the man’s eyes were glued to her, giving her an eager thumbs up when she met his gaze. 

One thing led to another and normally—truly, normally—Mel would never have let him lead her to his room, a light hand on her lower back. But, she was in the middle of an ocean with her best friend after surviving a truly hellish year, and Becca was safe back at Middle Hill. Samira also was more than encouraging, saying goodnight with a wink. 

A sharp nip to her inner thigh brought her back to the present, back to Frank’s hands trailing up her hips, his breath ghosting right there. 

“Please,” She whined, barely recognizing her voice. 

Frank looked up and her cunt throbbed. His pupils were blown out, hair disheveled, and a smirk on his lips. 

“Eyes on me, sweetheart.” 

He dropped his head to lick a slow, firm line through her folds. Mel keened, fingers twisting in the sheets. His hands settled heavy on her hips, pushing down with just the right pressure to match the pressure of his tongue. He worked his way to her clit, tracing it before sucking it fully into his mouth. 

With his chin pressed against her cunt, his mouth on her, hands still pressing her into the bed, Frank’s masculine scent clinging to the sheets, Mel was overwhelmed. It wasn’t often she let herself relinquish control to someone else, to trust them to take care of her, to see what she needed and give it to her. 

Normally, Mel would have rushed to the ensuite to wash the day off her. Especially on days like today, where her patients clung to her clothes. But, as soon as she toed her shoes off, she made her way to the living room. 

Both Frank and baby Eliza lay on their stomach, facing each other. Frank’s back was to the door, so Mel could lean on the frame and watch as Eliza’s blue eyes tracked his every movement, babbling some sweet nonsense. 

A side-effect from the guilt of Tanner being born during COVID and working too many hours during Penny’s infancy, Frank threw himself into their pregnancy, vibrating with excitement and pride anytime he got the chance to talk about their baby. Near the end of her pregnancy, Mel used to joke that he was more excited than her (but, she sobbed the moment she heard Eliza’s little cries, knowing that she was perfect and theirs). 

As it were, Eliza was spoiled. Whenever it was her tummy time, Frank joined her, stretching his back as he faced her, watching her take in the world or coo to her while she vocalized her protests at the activity. 

“Your mommy thinks I didn’t hear her come in, but I know she’s behind us,” Frank said to Eliza in a conspiratorial whisper, pulling Mel back to reality. 

Eliza gurgled back, all gums and drool. 

Mel smiled softly, the weight of the day easing off her back. She nudged Frank’s leg with a socked foot, “Hello to you as well. And to you, Miss Eliza.”

She squealed in response. 

“Oh no! I did it again.”

Frank cocked his head at her, a bemused tilt to his lips, “Did what?”

Mel’s gaze dropped, focusing on the small tear at the collar of his shirt. It was loose on him—most of his pre-rehab shirts had the same fit and he kept making excuses to go shopping for himself.

A quick, light squeeze to her calf brought her back into her body, “sweetheart, what do you mean?”

“I rambled for too long.”

“What do y—”

“You just asked me what I was reading. That’s it. And I’ve been soliloquying for,” Mel checked her watch, offering an estimate, “10 minutes. You didn’t ask for all those details and I know I have a tendency to go on and on and not realize people aren’t as excited as me. I’m sorry.”

Her voice dropped to a whisper, tears pricking her eyes.