Destroyed (Lost in Oblivion, #3)(37)

“You need to say my name again.”

“Simon.” She bucked against his hand. “Simon, I need...”

“Need what?”

“Need you.” Her blood boiled under the surface and her skin was an electric conduit that jumped with each touch.

“Need me to do what? Give you an orgasm? All it would take was a few more of these.” He tugged at her nipples roughly and she blew out a breath. “Or maybe here? Is this what you want?” He dipped his fingers inside of her and caught her clit between them.

The friction made black spots haze over her vision. “Oh, yes.”

“Is that what you want?”

“More,” she said brokenly. “You. You, I need you, not your fingers.”

He groaned. “I didn’t come prepared for this kind of party.”

“My pocket.”

“There’s a pocket in this tiny thing?”

She ground back against him. “Yes.” His fingers slid away from her and she groaned in relief and distress as he dug into her pocket.

“Were you holding this the entire night?”

She nodded.

“You wanted this?”

She always wanted this.

Wanted him.

He speared his fingers into her hair and pushed her head down to look at the floor of people. “Did you come up here for this?”

“No.” She’d needed to get away from Simon, but now all she wanted was the feel of him filling her again.

“But you want it now?”

“So much.”

He dug into her pocket and the crinkle of plastic then the unnaturally loud echo of his zipper made her sag against the bar.

He kicked out her feet and jerked up her skirt. “Are you sure this is what you want?”

She heard the anger there. She wasn’t sure just why it was there, but she was too far gone to puzzle it out. She reached between her legs to his fingers, pushing them away from his cock. “Yes.”

She lifted onto her toes on her already high heels. He pulled her panties to the side and thrust inside of her.

She bit back a scream and returned her hands to the bar.

“Is this what you need?” His voice was lower, his tone darker.

“Yes.”

He snapped his hips forward and lifted her even higher onto her toes. He gripped the bar in front of her, placing both hands between hers for leverage. And f*cked her.

There was no other word for it.

This wasn’t lovemaking. This wasn’t even a hook-up. This was raw and real and dirty. His breath was harsh against her neck, then came the leading edge of pain as he scraped his teeth down her nape to the high collar of her camisole.

He skipped over the material to get to her shoulder as he ground his pelvis against her backside. His length and the broad head of his cock hit all the places she remembered and some that she’d never known could come alive inside of her.

He brought one hand up the front of her from clit to belly then to breast. His touch rough, his calloused fingertips warring with his softer palm until he left behind his own branding.

She pushed back against him. So close. Her body fairly vibrated with the jarring thrusts as the head of his cock kept battering her from the inside out.

He slid his hand higher and his fingers curled around her throat as he held her still, his mouth at her ear. “I know what you need. This, between us, it’s always what you’ve needed.”

He dipped his fingers of his other hand under her skirt and found her clit.

The barest hint of a grip on her throat, combined with his busy fingers, and she was lost. She prayed that she didn’t scream his name.

Though no one would be able to hear it over the drowning beat of the music, though they were hidden in the rafters of shadow and red light and no one could see, he would know.

If she let that scream of surrender out, Simon would know.

And that terrified her even as she chased it.





9





Simon dragged in a breath and tried to hold onto sanity. Suspended over a crowd of people with cameras as he sank inside Margo’s fisting * was not the way to hold onto sanity, but he’d been lying to himself since he’d climbed up here. What was one more?

He felt her swallow under his fingers, vibrated with her keening moan as her * spasmed around his cock. He thrust into her again and again until his thighs burned, until his spine flamed, until his balls drew up tight with the need to come.

He tried to hold out.

Knew that as soon as he came it would be over. She felt too good and he’d wanted her for too damn long. The guttural groan he unleashed as he let go was too honest, too raw.

She sagged against the bars of the catwalk and still he had the unyielding urge to drive into her again. To imprint himself all over her body.

And he hated it.

He wanted to pull back, wanted to keep the pleasure from her. Hated to give her this power when this had been her plan all along.

Maybe not here but tonight she’d been ready for something to happen between them. He couldn’t even say why that pissed him off, but it did.

Because he’d seen her itinerary and knew she was on a flight tonight. Knew she was leaving again. And he’d tried not to give her the satisfaction. Tried to walk away before he did something stupid like this.