Destroyed (Lost in Oblivion, #3)(45)

“Yeah.” He held her hand over his nipple. “Feels good.”

When he hissed again, she stopped. It didn’t sound like it felt good.

“A little pain can feel good, Margo.”

When his fingers tightened on her hips, she thought he might have something there. “What if I don’t want you to be gentle with me?”

“Want to walk on the wild side with the bad boy from Oblivion?”

She wasn’t used to his rough voice, or the sharper edge to it. Simon usually had a sleepy, sexy quality to his speech. Like he’d just rolled out of bed. This Simon was almost harsh. “I just want you inside me,” she said without preamble. “I want you, Simon.”

“Jesus f*ck.”

His mouth was on hers, his arm around her back, crushing her to him until he’d emptied her lungs and taken all her air. He dragged her skirt up and found her pantyhose. He pushed it up higher until he could get both hands under there. The rending of material echoed to days past.

That night he’d been impatient to get inside her as well.

The cool night air kissed her inner thighs then it was all Simon. His fingers pushing at her underwear as he cupped her.

“This. Is this what you want?”

“God.” She clutched at his upper arm.

“Tell me, Margo. You want me to f*ck you?”

She whimpered when he slowly slid two fingers inside of her. She lifted her hips to give him better access, but he stopped.

“Tell me, Margo.”

“Yes. Yes, I want you to f*ck me.”

He growled into her neck. “That voice. That upper crust accent. I want you to f*ck me, Simon.” He swirled his thumb around her clit. “Say it.”

“I want you to f*ck me, Simon.”

He moved quickly. So fast that she didn’t have time to ready herself or her back for the brunt of his invasion. The zipper, the crinkle of plastic, then he lifted her knee up on his hip and levered himself inside her.

And no, he wasn’t the least bit gentle.

His fingers dug into her hips, his mouth sealed over her neck and the harsh suction of his lips with a bite snapped her closer to the edge. He’d marked her. She knew there would be something there, along with the tattoo of his fingertips on her hips.

There was be reminders this time.

She coasted her nails up his neck and pushed the Fedora off his head to get to his hair. And because she wanted him as insane as she was, she slid under his shirt again and found the piercing.

“Ah, f*ck.”

Her shoulder burned where the brick abraded her skin, where the elastic of her panties dug into her, and at her neck where he kept scraping his teeth like she was going to give him something. But she was dripping. He took her without care or consequence. As if he was driving a demon out of himself and into her.

Her leg shook and still he came at her.

No flourishes, no laughter, just him battering into her until her skin was too sensitive to take anymore. She gripped his shoulders and cried out, surprised when the orgasm enveloped her like a black hole.

“Yes.”

His voice was raw and the friction built until there was nothing but darkness and Simon and an unending orgasm. She wasn’t built for this.

Shattered.

Broken open.

Forever changed.

Damn this man. If she hadn’t known, if she could have stayed blissfully ignorant, then nothing would have changed.

He pulled out of her and she felt him doing something with the condom, but she was too frayed to care. Her leg dropped to the ground and she slapped her hands on the brick to stop the slide into a quivering mass on the pavement.

She expected him to walk away. This is what she’d wanted, of course. She’d asked for it. But no, he came back and leaned into her, touching her forehead with his.

He said nothing.

Just stood there with her until their breathing evened and the night sounds intruded. Until someone opened the door.

“Oh, man. How long were you out here, guys?” The waiter lit a cigarette and drew in a deep lungful of smoke. He jammed his foot against the door to keep it open. “Aren’t you glad I came when I did?”

“Yeah, man. Thanks.” Simon bent to pick up his hat.

The crash of piano and horns, the guitars and screams penetrated the moment, reminding her that nothing about this was right time, right place. She let Simon hold open the door for her, and she held her head up high as she sailed down the hallway.

“I need to use the ladies.”

Simon nodded. “I have to get back to the hotel.”

She nodded. “Of course.”

He curled his fingers into a fist. “This is stupid.” She flipped her hair over her shoulder and he crowded her. “Margo.”

“What?”

He traced his thumb over her shoulder. “Fuck. Did I do that?”

“It’s nothing.” She pulled her hair forward.

“Dammit, why didn’t you tell me?”

“I was a willing participant, Simon. Everything you did to me I wanted.”

“You wanted to bleed?” His face was incredulous as he crushed his hat between his hands.

She tipped her head. “I wanted someone to want me like that.” To see her as a woman, not just an instrument. Not just a tool. A woman.

“Someone?”