Destroyed (Lost in Oblivion, #3)(56)

So f*cking beautiful.

On a night that was supposed to be about f*cking, she looked like a cool, elegant dream. Something that would never belong to him.

The heat of anger bloomed in his belly. She didn’t deserve it, but it was there. Actually, she did deserve it. She’d walked away from him so many times and now she wanted him to bend to her.

It was time for her to do the bending.

He stopped a foot in front of her. “Did you listen to my directions?”

She swiped her tongue over her lower lip and nodded.

“Show me.”

Margo looked over her shoulder.

“Don’t worry about anyone else. Only me.”

She curled her fingers into the flowing skirt and inched it up over her knees, halting at her mid-thigh.

“Too much for you, Violin Girl?”

She lifted her chin and pressed her lips together as she raised it farther.

The shadow of her cleft left his dick as hard as the stone that surrounded them. “Higher.”

Her chest rose and fell a little faster than it should and her nipples jutted against the shiny fabric. She liked it.

The white noise in his brain pushed out any sense of caution. Here, he had control and she was a willing playmate. Just how far could he push her?

She gathered the material to her middle and the low light highlighted her milky skin. A small triangle of dark hair ended above her slit.

“Are you wet?”

She nodded.

“Show me.”

Her mouth worked, but nothing came out at first. “How?”

“Touch yourself.”

Her fingers flexed on the material but she drew her right hand down and tentatively slipped a finger along her * lips.

“Two fingers. Around your clit, then deep inside until they’re coated.” His voice was raspy with recovery from singing all day.

“Simon, I…”

“This is what you want, right? The dirty side of sex. The kind that doesn’t end with candles and five-hundred thread count sheets?”

She closed her eyes and tipped her head back. “I do.”

“Then show me how wet you are.”

The elegant line of her throat and the tease of cleavage under her blouse pulled a groan from him. “Like that. With your eyes closed. Tell me how wet you are.”

“I thought you wanted to see.”

“First tell me.”

Her breath hitched. “Soft and warm.” She moaned. “Sensitive.”

He watched as she circled her clit. Was that how she pleasured herself? Under the covers in her bed where no one could see her? “Now deep inside, two fingers, Margo.”

She tucked her forefinger and middle finger through her folds and pumped lightly.

“Fuck.” His voice was little more than a whisper on the breeze.

With her head tilted and her hair flowing down between her shoulder blades, she sawed her teeth through her lower lip as her hips rotated lightly.

“Now take them out.”

She sighed and withdrew. The moonlight caught on the silvery wetness.

“Come here.”

She dropped her skirt and he took her hand when she was close enough. He watched her face as he drew her fingers up to his mouth.

Her lips parted and her tongue fluttered over her lower lip.

He sucked her damp fingers into his mouth and curled his tongue around each digit until he had every bit of her taste transferred from her skin to his greedy mouth. He pulled them free with a pop and painted the pads of her fingers across his lip before he bent to taste her. She drew in a shaky breath.

“Want to taste yourself?”

“I…” Her tongue touched her top lip and her thick lashes veiled whatever she was thinking or feeling.

“You taste like cool honey that needs to warm up on my tongue. The kind of taste that lingers and buzzes over taste buds.” For f*ck’s sake, he hadn’t even touched her yet and his dick was so hard he couldn’t think around the wanting of her.

He touched the tip of his tongue to hers lightly before she sweetly sucked him inside her mouth. And that was where the sweetness ended. She went up on her toes to eat up the last few inches that separated them and the kiss went flame-hot.

Lips and tongues twined around each other even as their arms didn’t. Chest and breasts brushed, knees bumped, but it was only their mouths that lost control. The cool night air urged him to drag her in, but he knew that was the quickest road to him pushing her over the thigh-high plaques that covered every space between the eight columns.

There would be time for that.

But this, here and now…he wanted to string it out. Wanted to control this one thing between them. Where they weren’t screwing like rabbits without the ride up. Zero-to-sixty was too easy.

He cupped her jaw and turned her head to take him deeper. He felt her moan vibrate through his tongue, into his throat, and arrow to his cock. He tasted it, swallowed it, owned it.

Her nails scraped his wrist as he took everything. She fisted his shirt and held on as breath became a commodity in their kissing war. She tore her mouth away and panted against his neck and down to his breastbone.

“Go lower.”

Her hand moved to his belly and scratched through the thin arrow of hair to his buckle.

“Suck me.”

When she paused, he wondered if he’d found her end. When the commands would be too much for his Violin Girl.