Destroyed (Lost in Oblivion, #3)(36)

No one knew she was up there. She wasn’t altogether sure that anyone cared. Her purpose had been fulfilled for this part of their promotional tour.

She wasn’t sure how to feel about that.

She’d gotten exactly what she wanted. The exposure had garnered interest and her email was peppered with new offers that her agent was getting for her and studio work. Her untimely dismissal from the Boston Philharmonic might be just what she needed for a different career.

She had Oblivion to thank for that. “The Becoming” had ruined her for the staid and true songs that had molded her childhood, but in the end, that song had given her so much more.

“Hiding?”

Margo shivered at his voice. “Watching.”

“Is that what you like to do?”

She closed her eyes against the throb of reaction that flared to life again. Escape had been too much to ask for. Not when Simon was in the picture.

“Sometimes.”

He came up behind her, curling his fingers around the bar on either side of her hands. “Is it the people below that you like or the dancers in the cages?” He tucked his chin over her shoulder and steered her gaze to the far side of the room.

Under the throbbing bass of the song, she noticed two women bookending the second bar with a little extra entertainment. All the lights and the crowd’s focus centered on the two dark-haired women with thigh high boots and leather bikinis who gyrated with the songs.

“A little obvious, don’t you think?”

“We are in L.A.,” he said with a purr.

“The home of excess?”

“That might be Vegas.”

“That’s greed.”

“And the looks on their faces below don’t include greed?”

“I’d say the greed would be the executives under Donovan Lewis. Here, the commodity is lust and excess.”

Simon laughed. “Is that why you’re up here? Too good for those emotions, Violin Girl?”

No.

No, she definitely wasn’t.

She’d been living with the lust part for weeks now. It was inconvenient and messy and she hoped to hell that she could leave it behind with the experience, but she was beginning to wonder.

“I saw the need in your eyes tonight.” He slid one arm around her and tucked her back against his hips. “Felt it in the way we moved together on the stage.”

She let out a shaky breath. “A moment of madness.”

“Is that all we’ll ever be?”

I don’t know.

He moved his hips in time to the syrupy tempo of the song piping out into the crowd. Conversation and milling bodies, laughter and shouts, light and shadow—all of it fed into the insanity that made her move against him.

He hissed out a breath and his arm tightened across her hips until they moved as one. “Is this what you want?” His hand slid lower as he skimmed his fingers along the hem of her skirt.

She let out a shuddering breath.

“Under the cover of shadows, with the crowd right there.” He tucked his fingers into the band of her thigh-high and scraped short nails over the skin until he reached the line of her panties. “Are you wet?”

She nodded.

“Are you wet because of me?”

The moan that tripped out of her chest couldn’t be hers. It wasn’t her. It was her when she was with him.

A new kind of Margo.

He nosed his way along the line of her neck, behind her ear. “Tell me you want this.” He pushed the front of her panties to the side and sneaked under the elastic. His grumbling voice thickened when he pushed the pads of his fingers under the swollen flesh that hid her clit. “I need to hear it, Margo.”

Her knuckles went white with her grip on the iron support bar. “Yes. God, yes.”

He flicked his tongue over the lobe of her ear and drew it into his mouth as he sunk two fingers into her. “All those people under us. All they need to do is look up and they’d see me finger-f*cking you.”

She let out a breath and undulated against his hardness from behind and his invading fingers from the front. “Let them.”

His laugh was low and harsh in her ear. “My naughty Violin Girl likes that idea.”

“Harder.”

He drew his other arm around her and gripped her breast through the silk camisole. He tucked his chin onto her shoulder and tugged at the strapless bra she wore until the tip of her nipple peeked over the top.

“Watch,” he said.

“Watch what?”

“The people.”

She tried to turn her attention to the people below, but her gaze kept straying to her breast. He plucked at the distended flesh, gently at first then twisted tighter as she fed him with moans and groans in approval.

“Not me, watch the crowd below.”

Margo cried out as his other hand opened her lips and strummed a nail over her clit. He didn’t quite stroke her as she needed him to.

No, he left that to his never ending tug on her nipple through silk, first one then the other as his breathing increased against her ear. He let out a growl as her flesh dampened even more.

“I’m not even inside you and you’re soaking my hand.”

“Simon.”

“Again.” He coasted two fingers around her clit.

She pressed her head against his shoulder. “I need...”