Destroyed (Lost in Oblivion, #3)(54)

“You would be, Super Slut.”

Margo’s belly tightened. She wasn’t quite sure how she felt about that.





* * *



Simon escaped to the bathrooms as everyone said their goodbyes to Donovan. He’d have to do a little YouTube research on Brooklyn Dawn and see how they performed live.

Right now, he was more worried about his own performance. The damn pollen was going to choke him. His throat was on fire. No matter how much water he drank, it felt itchy.

He turned all the taps on full hot and prayed for a decent level of steam. He stood over one sink and breathed in the moist air.

His throat was damn happy about it. And the tickle he’d been fighting eased.

He was usually able to sing all damn day. How many times had they jammed well into the night on the last tour? And after a show, so it wasn’t like the three hours he’d been singing should have taxed him.

Fucking allergies.

Knowing he was pushing his luck, he stretched it to ten minutes before he shut off the faucets and drained the three liters of water out of his f*cking bladder.

He washed his hands and opened the door to find Margo in the hallway. “Hello, Violin Girl.”

She frowned. “Are you all right?”

“Fine. Just needed to open up the pipes a bit.”

“Have Harper get you some ginger. Steep it in some hot water for a few hours. Tastes nasty, but my friend Siobhan swears by it.”

The urge to snap at her itched at the back of his throat worse than the irritant he’d been living with. He didn’t need her help. Nor did he want her to see him struggling.

“I’ll tell her.”

“Good.”

She tried to slip by him, but Simon curled his hand around her hip. “Tonight, at the fountain.”

Her dark eyes widened and the rosy blush under her cheeks hardened his dick. He wouldn’t be happy until her cheeks were scarlet with exertion.

He brushed his thumb over her lower lip. “You want the experience, right? And nothing you’ve done before.”

She nodded.

He lowered his head, keeping their gazes locked as he tugged on her lower lip. He bit hard enough that it instantly plumped and darkened to raspberry. “The fountain at eleven.”

“What fountain?”

“You’ll know it.” He forced himself to walk down the hallway away from her. He wanted to suck on her lips until the hue was as deep as wine, but she already had too much control over his cock.

It was time to show her what would happen if she wanted the tour experience. Then maybe he could finally f*ck her out of his system and move on.

Because right now, he couldn’t see an end in sight to the want.

He climbed the stairs to the stage. Nick and Gray were in the middle of figuring out a longer guitar duel in “Ricochet”. With the time to fill on the setlist, they could finally work with the songs and let them breathe.

Simon loved a perfect four minute song. It got the crowd engaged and didn’t let them get bored. But sometimes the rest helped him with some of the grittier songs on the setlist. Letting Gray and Nick rock out to a three minute solo was welcome in the second hour.

As they hashed out the song, Simon moved out to the archway. It had been finished while they were having their lunch break. Tomorrow it would be sandblasted in cobalt blue and glitter-flecked silver.

He’d seen the designs, but the archway had originally been at the back of the stage. The fact that Lila had retooled it to be exactly what he needed warmed him and energized him.

He backed up and ran three steps before he vaulted up to the second tier of the arch. Hidden behind the artistry of their band name was a network of handholds for him.

Good goddamn, it was sturdy. It didn’t even sway when he monkeyed his way up to the crossbars and pulled himself up to sit.

“Fuck yeah.”

Nick and Gray moved under him. “Gonna be able to get down without help, *?” Nick asked.

“Yeah, but who would want to. I can see the whole damn pavilion.” Simon spotted Margo at the end of the lower section. She was on her phone, pacing. “It’s f*cking gorgeous.” He peered down at them. “It’s going to be so goddamn awesome.”

“How about you get down and sing?” Nick asked.

Simon dove forward, his fingers catching the bar just as he flipped around and hung for a few seconds. “Oh, yeah. Awesome.”

“Just don’t forget to sing while you’re playing monkey, Pretty Boy,” Deacon quipped.

“Har-har.”

“Are you boys done with your solos?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Gray muttered.

Margo jogged back down the main aisle and up the stairs. Her face wasn’t quite as happy and open as it had been all day. A new tension seemed to gather between her brows.

But before he could mention something, it was gone and she was lifting her violin to join in on “Undertow”.

Two hours later, Jazz begged for mercy because of swollen hands and feet.

“One more take of ‘Renegade’ and we’ll be good for the day.”

Jazz tipped her head back. “Thank God.”

Simon burned through another bottle of water and shrugged out of his soaked T-shirt. He cupped his hands around his mic and felt the build in his belly.