“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.
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.
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.
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.
“I’ll grab one,” I said. No way I’d use a rubber she’d bought for another man. Reaching for my jeans, I pulled out the wallet and got the condom, ripping open the package with my teeth.
“Let me,” Mel said, reaching for it. I let her have it and then her hand was on my cock, covering it with a long, sexy stroke of her fingers. Then I was on her again, pushing the head into her opening.
So fucking tight.
Tight and wet and hot for me in a way that no other woman had ever come close to matching . . . She gasped as I pushed deep, moving slowly but steadily until I bottomed out inside her. Her inner muscles tensed around me and my vision started to swim.
Then I pulled back and thrust again.
I’d had a thousand different fantasies of us together over the past year. In my mind, I’d fucked her every way a man can fuck a woman. Twice. I’d always known it would be good—how could fucking a woman like Mel not be good?—but no way could I have imagined this. Sure, her cunt was hot. And the way she squeezed my dick worked for me in a big way, don’t get me wrong. The best part, though, was the way she looked at me, eyes all big and wide and full of surprised excitement because we were just that good together.
She’d been with other guys. I knew this. And I’d been with a shitload of other women . . . somehow this felt like the first time, though. Like I’d just been jerking off before.
Dropping my head, I kissed her as I pumped even deeper.
This couldn’t last forever, but I wished to fuck it could.
I’d never experienced anything quite like sex with Painter. It seemed wrong somehow, the way that he stretched me to the point of pain with every thrust, like it shouldn’t feel so good.
Yet somehow it worked—like our bodies were in tune with each other even though our lives were so mismatched. I’d never actually managed to come during traditional sex before, but I knew the instant he filled me that I’d be satisfied. Not only had he prepped me right (God, had he ever!), but somehow he’d tilted my hips so that every stroke brought his pelvic bone up against my clit.