Reaper's Fall (Reapers MC, #5)(48)

She nodded slowly.

“I can do that,” she said.

The relief I felt was enough to scare me—I’d never cared about anyone like this. Hell, what I’d felt for Em was nothing. Why had I been so obsessed with her?

“I wasn’t in love with Em,” I blurted out.

“What?”

Smooth, *. Real smooth. But I was all in now, so might as well run with it.

“They probably told you I’m an * who led Em on for a long time. I did that, and then I lost her. But you should know that I wasn’t in love with her. I think I just liked the idea of marrying into the club. Pic’s been like a dad to me—guess I just wanted it to be official.”

“Okay . . .” she said slowly, obviously confused. Christ, I was botching the hell out of this.

“Look, I know I don’t have any right to ask this, but I want you to stay away from other guys while I’m gone.”

I saw a flash of something cross her face—satisfaction? Hard to tell. “And if I do? What about you?”

“Me?”

Mel rolled her eyes, crossing her arms over her chest. “Will you be dating anyone else?”

“I don’t date,” I said. From the look on her face, I wasn’t helping my cause. “But I won’t f*ck anyone, if that’s what you’re asking.”

I thought about Marsh’s sister and our plan. Could I keep that promise? Did it even count, if I did it for the club?

“Okay,” Mel said after a long pause, giving me a shy smile. I fell into her eyes for a moment, and then I was stepping forward and pulling her in for a kiss. Her arms wrapped around my neck as I pushed her down onto the futon. This was more awkward than you’d think, because she was wearing one of those big bath sheets wrapped around her at least three times. I kept trying to reach under it but I couldn’t get through the damned layers—f*ckin’ thing was better than a chastity belt.

“This is like trying to bang a burrito,” I said finally, frustrated. Mel burst out laughing, which didn’t help because now she was wiggling around and I couldn’t even find the edge of the damned thing.

“Let me up,” she gasped. “It’ll never work.”

She was right. I let her go, lying back on the bed to watch as she stood. She turned away, peeking over her shoulder at me, which was simultaneously adorable and sexy as hell, a combination that usually doesn’t go together. I mean, I think bunny rabbits are cute, but I don’t want to f*ck one. What the hell’s wrong with you? Mellie’s stripping down and you’re thinking about rabbits!

They’d been right—I really did need professional help.

Mel had the towel completely open now, although she still held it loosely around her. She looked like a Harley pinup girl, all teasing curves and dripping water.

“You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” I managed to say, and I meant every word. “I have no idea how I’m lucky enough to be here with you right now, but please know you have my eternal appreciation.”

Christ, did I just grow a *?

I gave a quick glance to check, because the shit coming out of my mouth sounded like a f*cking Hallmark card. Nope, that was definitely my cock down there, and he was saluting Mel’s towel-wrangling skills.

She gave that shy smile again, letting the towel fall slowly to the floor. I waited for her to turn around and come to me—I had plans for that cunt of hers, and while I was in a hurry, I was also f*cked for time, too. Might as well take advantage of the moment.

Melanie didn’t turn around, though. Nope. Instead she dropped slowly to her knees, still facing away. I pushed up on my elbows to find her stretching her back and thrusting her ass out toward me. My brain short-circuited. Then she crawled slowly in a circle across the floor toward me. Like Catwoman, but totally naked and much, much hotter.

My knees were hanging off the side of the futon. She rose up, catching her tits and squeezing them together as she licked her lips.

I may have blacked out briefly.

If there was a God above, I was about to feel those boobs around my dick. Instead she leaned over and went after me with her mouth. I probably owed a lit candle in church or something, because I’d asked for a titty f*ck and the man upstairs had raised me a blow job. The fervent Jesus f*cking Christ I whispered probably didn’t cut it.

Then I lost the ability to think, because her lips were wrapped tight around my cock.


MELANIE

Painter seemed bigger during the daytime.

Going down on him was an impulse that came out of nowhere, but I’d never felt sexier—or more powerful—than I did the instant I first wrapped my lips around his hard length. He let out a moan that was half begging, half worship as I flicked the underside of his cock in what I hoped was an expert move. Based on the noises, I was doing just fine for a beginner. The one and only time Jess had convinced me to smoke pot, she’d ended up giving me a blow job lesson using a banana in London’s living room. She showed me how to lick a cock and suck it and even jack a guy off, but I got the munchies before we made it to deep-throating, so I’d eaten the banana.

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.