“Mel, are you okay?” Painter asked, knocking on my door. I gasped, trying to catch my breath to answer. It came out on a sob, and every time I tried to tell him I was fine, the words ate themselves and I would start laughing again.
Finally he pushed his way through the door, dropping down on the futon next to me to pull me into his arms. Then he rolled me on top, wrapping his body around mine.
“Hey, it’s okay,” he whispered, sounding all sweet and tender. I snorted, still incapable of catching my breath. “Mellie, it doesn’t matter what he saw. You’re okay.”
I clutched at his leather cut, pushing my head up so I could see him.
“I’m fine,” I gasped, although I was pretty sure there were tears running down my face, probably all mixed with paint. Attractive. His hands rubbed up and down my back, and my legs fell to either side of his hips. Oh hell. I could feel him there—exactly where I needed him—and he was longer and harder than any man had a right to be.
“I’m fine,” I repeated, sniffing. “I was laughing, Painter, not crying. It was just so funny. The look on Jessica’s face. You’d think she’d caught us screwing on her bed. And for the record, I’ve caught her having sex on my bed twice before, so she’d have no right to complain even if we had been . . .”
My voice trailed off as one of his hands dug into my ass, pulling me hard into his pelvis.
“You were laughing?” he asked very carefully.
“Yeah. It was funny. Didn’t you think it was funny?”
A slow grin started to steal across his face, and then he shook his head. “Well, yeah. But girls don’t usually laugh about shit like that.”
I smiled, letting my face drop against his chest.
“I’m not most girls.”
The leather of his club colors was rough against my nipples, and I thought about the look on Taz’s face as he took me in. Appreciation, although not in a creepy way. Felt kind of good, actually. Now I had those unpainted sections he’d so helpfully pointed out pushed up against Painter’s chest. Okay, I hadn’t exactly forgotten . . . but suddenly I was more aware of how my breasts felt rubbing against the fabric and leather covering his body. Then Painter’s hands found my ass, gripping it and giving a squeeze, sending thrills running through me.
“You know, Taz was right about one thing,” he said softly.
“What’s that?” I whispered, feeling the spell fall over us again.
“I really should’ve gotten the bra off you earlier—I’d have loved to paint these tits of yours.”
That set me off laughing again.
“You’re quite the smooth talker, aren’t you?” I managed to gasp out. Painter shrugged, grinning at me.
“Never pretended to be,” he said. I felt him rub up and along my back, and then his hand was in my hair, catching me and pulling me down hard for a kiss. I opened to him, savoring the feel of his tongue sliding along mine.
There’d been a slow fire building in me all night . . . every brushstroke had been sweet torture, and now that fire exploded. My hips shifted as I found myself grinding slowly against him. His big hand cupped me tighter as one knee rose, thrusting his thigh between mine.
Suddenly he broke free from the kiss, gasping and staring at me.
“You really wanna do this?” he asked, his words offering me an escape even as his hands held me prisoner. I smiled down at him.
“Don’t you?”
He gave a short laugh, fingers tightening on my rear. His cock dug obscenely into my stomach.
“This could fuck up our friendship,” he whispered.
“Our friendship’s already fucked,” I reminded him. “There’s no good reason for us to be together, you know. We have nothing in common, different life paths . . . Nothing makes sense, yet it works. Why not enjoy it?”
He nodded slowly, then his mouth took mine again.
PAINTER
Fuck, but she tasted good. I tried to hold back and keep it sweet for her, but once she started grinding on me I sort of lost it. In an instant, I had her on her back and then I was sucking on her tits, one hand ripping open the fly on her shorts. I should’ve been gentle, but my fingers found her pussy like a magnet, thrusting deep inside without any warning.
Wet.
So wet. And hot. Christ, that was gonna feel amazing wrapped around my cock. Sucking her nipple in deep, I worked her, savoring every funny little noise and sigh she gave as my thumb brushed her clit.
“Oh my God,” she whimpered, bucking her hips against my hand. “Fucking hell, Painter. That’s really good.”
I pulled back, giving her a little nip before staring down into her eyes. “You scare the crap out of me, Mel.”
She gasped and I twisted my fingers until her back arched. My dick was thick and heavy, a painful prisoner in my jeans. It wanted inside that pretty cunt of hers in a bad way. I’d planned to get her off before fucking her, but at this rate I’d blow in my pants. Giving her one last, hard kiss I pulled away.
“Strip,” I ordered her, ripping off my shirt. Then I was kicking off my boots and tearing off my jeans to fall back on her again, catching her thigh with one hand, pulling it up and around my waist. That brought her wet cunt into my cock, the tip sliding through her juices, our bodies in perfect alignment.
I slid back and forth across her pussy lips, savoring the touch of her bare skin. Somehow I had to get a condom on without losing contact. Breaking off the kiss, I closed my eyes for a second, taking deep breaths.
“Condom,” I grunted.
“I have some,” she told me, and I frowned. Why the hell should she need condoms? And what kind of fuckin’ hypocrite was I, anyway? I carried condoms all the time.