Probably just as well, because that monster of Painter’s wouldn’t fit down my throat in a million years anyway.

I followed the flicking with a swirl of my tongue, running it around the ridge ringing his cockhead.

“Shit, Mel,” he murmured, reaching down to gather my hair in his hand. Turning my head to the side, I licked up and down his length, exploring the ridges and bumps of him with my fingers and tongue. Then I started working my way back up again, looking up to meet his gaze as I opened my mouth wide, wrapping my lips around him.

Salt.

That was my first impression. He tasted salty, but not in a nasty way. Tightening my mouth, I started bobbing my head up and down, taking care not to graze him with my teeth. He was too big to go far, so I used one hand to grasp him firmly, pumping in time with my head.

“That’s fuckin’ unreal,” he said, and the words were strained, as if it caused him physical pain to speak. I liked this, I decided. I liked the sense of control it gave me, because no matter how big and tough he was, in this instant Painter was all mine.

My nipples tightened at the thought, and the desire I’d felt for him in the tub came roaring back. I could touch myself, I realized. Give myself exactly what I wanted while I sucked him off. The thought felt dirty, which should’ve put me off. Instead it turned me on even more. Reaching down with my free hand, I found the spot between my legs so hungry to be touched.

Wow . . . Oh, wow.

That was really nice. There must’ve been something about tasting him that enhanced my own sensations, because touching myself had never felt like this before. Pausing, I pulled back to lick him like an ice cream cone. His entire body trembled. Then his hand tightened in my hair, pushing me back down over his length.

Something changed then.

Up to that point, I’d been in control. Now both of his hands cupped my head and I realized he could do just about anything to me and I wouldn’t be able to stop him. It should’ve scared me. Instead my fingers worked faster, because I wanted him that much more.

“Mel, I want to come on your tits,” he muttered, tugging back on my hair. It took an instant to sink in, and then I was pulling free. That’s when he spotted my hand down between my legs. His eyes widened and he came with a gasp, come spurting out of his cock, spraying across my chest. Then he caught me under the armpits, dragging me up his body. An instant later his hand reached down between my legs from behind, plunging into my depths.

The world exploded.

I closed my eyes, sinking into the sensation as stars danced behind my eyelids. Holy crap. Who’da thunk blowing a guy could be this good?

“You’re fuckin’ gorgeous when you come, Mel,” he said, his voice almost reverent as he ran his hands up and down my back. Sighing, I snuggled into his warmth, wishing he didn’t have to leave. We lay there quietly, and I didn’t know about him, but I figured so long as I didn’t actually see how late it was, I could pretend time wasn’t passing.

“Babe, I gotta go,” he whispered after not nearly long enough. I rubbed my nose against his shoulder, then gave it a little nip. He laughed. “What was that for?”

“That’s your punishment,” I said, pretending to glare at him. “You ruined my shower, you know. I was getting all cleaned up for this hot guy who was coming over.”

He laughed again. “Yeah, sorry about that. He’s not gonna make it, though. I ran him over with my bike. I bought breakfast—didn’t want it getting cold.”

That made me giggle.

“This sucks, but I really do have to go,” he said, kissing the top of my head. Giving him one last squeeze, I rolled to the side, watching as he sat up and pulled on his pants.

“Let me guess—you can’t say where you’re going?” I asked. Painter shook his head.

“Nope,” he said. “And much as it sucks, it’s time to head out. It’s important.”

“Okay,” I said, feeling let down. He leaned down over me, giving me one last lingering kiss on the lips before running a finger down my nose.

“I’ll stay in touch this time,” he murmured. “Promise. If you don’t hear from me, it’s because I’m working and can’t risk it.”

“Let me guess . . . This isn’t doing something for the Reapers like painting that mural for the Armory? You know, I bet you could make good money with your painting. Those portraits at your place were really good, even if they weren’t finished.”

“Yeah, because art is so fucking lucrative,” he said, rolling his eyes. “It’s fun, but the club has more important shit that needs doing. I’m gonna go now—take care, okay?”

Then he gave me a hard kiss and walked out of the room. Five minutes later Jess opened my door without knocking as I scrambled to cover myself with a blanket. At least Taz wasn’t behind her this time . . .

“You and I will be having a talk later,” she said, her face stern. “But right now I need you downstairs and ready for the carnival in ten minutes.”

I scowled.

“When you’re trying to recruit volunteers, it’s a good idea to be nice. You know, the opposite of your normal self?”

She sighed and shook her head.

“I’m not being mean—I’m just worried about you. This is a dangerous game you’re playing.”

Oh, she was so out of line. Sooo out of line.

“Hypocrite, much? At least I know Painter’s real name. You dragged Taz home and I’ll bet you don’t know his. Do you?”

Her eyes flicked away. Ha! Suck it, bitch.

“That’s different,” she replied after a long pause.

“How—exactly—is it different?”

“I don’t care who I sleep with,” she said, shrugging. “Maybe that makes me a slut, but I don’t get emotionally involved when I fuck someone. It’s just sex . . . but I don’t think it’s just sex for you and Painter, and that means you’re going to be really hurt when he screws you over. And he will screw you over—he’s like me, Mel. Slutty. He doesn’t care who he hurts and he’s got the track record to prove it. You deserve better than a guy who’ll use you and then disappear.”

Wow. That was dark.

“I think that’s simultaneously the nicest and nastiest thing you’ve ever said to me,” I admitted, frustrated. I reached for a T-shirt, pulling it over my head before leaning toward my dresser for some fresh panties. (One of the joys of having a very small bedroom—you can always reach everything.) She sighed, dropping down next to me on the bed.

“Melanie, you’re the best friend I’ve ever had,” she said, catching and holding my gaze. “You’re the one who never judges me or hates me for the stupid shit I’ve done—”

“Oh, I’ve hated you a few times.”

She rolled her eyes, bumping into me with her shoulder. “You know what I mean. It’s not a secret I’ve had issues. The counseling has helped, but you’ve stood by me through everything, even before I pulled my head out of my ass. You’re always the smart one, the one making the good decisions. You keep me on track and tell me when I’m doing something stupid that’ll hurt me. Now it’s my turn. Painter and Taz are fun guys—they’re sexy and exciting, and I’m sure Painter’s really good in the sack. Taz sure as hell is. But don’t think for one instant that I believe what he says or that I’m counting on him to be around when I need him.”

“Hey, just because you had a bad experience with Painter doesn’t mean he’s incapable of doing good things,” I snapped. “And what’s with this ‘I bet he’s good in the sack’ shit? I thought you slept with him last year, out at the Armory.”

The thought of them together still ate at me. I’d always sworn I didn’t want to know the details. Now I did. I totally did.

Jess looked away.

“It wasn’t a bad experience because of him, not really. I was fucked up that night, drunk and stupid. We spent about half an hour together in a room upstairs, me and him and another guy, Banks. That’s when London showed up to rescue me, along with Reese.”