Destroyed (Lost in Oblivion, #3)(63)

“Yes.”

“Hands up against the bus.” When she did so, his voice went darker and lower with the aftereffects of singing that day. He’d reached for the high notes and hit a few of them if his throat was any indication. “Hang on.”

She trembled for him and he crouched down behind her, peeling her shorts down enough for him to get to her ass. He slipped his hand between her thighs from the back and she wasn’t just wet. She was soaked.

He pressed open her thighs as far as they would go with the shorts on and tongued her. Her scent filled his head and her taste exploded in his mouth.

He used his fingers from the front and the back until he was crowding inside of her, spreading her open to get every groan and shudder out of her.

Relentless fingers on her clit from the front, two fingers from the back and he pressed his thumb against her rosette.

He owned them all right now.

Choked moans were followed by her trembling thighs. And he didn’t stop. He took all the liquid heat from the front of her and spread it to her back until he could breach her with the pad of his thumb.

Her thigh shook so bad, he had to hold her still with his arm. He rimmed her with his tongue as her taste and her scent filtered into his vodka-soaked brain. He held her there at the edge, not letting her go over. He needed to hold onto that for his cock.

Had to have her spasm around him until there was nothing left of him.

When her gasps turned to whimpers, he let her go and stood. He suited up and fit himself against her swollen lips. “This is what you want?”

She reached back and he grabbed her hand to put it back on the bus. “Don’t move.”

He slipped his shaft along her lips and bumped his head under the hood along the front until he brushed her clit again and again.

She pressed her forehead against her hands and rose on her toes. “Simon,” she said with a begging tone.

He reached between them and tucked his head inside her. The grasping warmth seared through the condom as he slowly slid inside.

She pushed back on him, lifting onto her toes to get him closer.

He crowded in on her and flattened his hands against the bus above hers and he snapped his hips against her ass.

“Yes.” Her voice was low as she repeated the word again and again as he plowed into her. He didn’t let up, didn’t gentle, didn’t allow himself to worry about her pleasure.

He took.

And he took.

And when she vised around his cock with a moan flavored scream that traveled through her back into his chest, he threw his head back and came.

He came so hard lightning filled his head and shorted out his brain. He came so hard that his spine went numb.

She was shaking and curling in on herself when he came back to himself. He wanted to hold her, wanted to curl around her and promise her everything, but he just pulled out and tied off the condom.

“Hope you got what you wanted.” He zipped up and backed away from her.

The anger was back tenfold.

That kind of f*cking should end with his arms around her to calm down. But the thought of her wiggling out of his hold and walking away burned his ass and fried his brain.

So he walked away first. He went straight to the door of the bus and to the showers to get her off him.

Because what he really wanted, she wasn’t offering.





14





Simon pulled his shades down over his face and settled back into the folding chair in the orchestra pit. It had been a much better day for rehearsals. They tried out the setlist as a whole and timed the show at an hour and thirty-five minutes.

With the commentary he ran through and the nights that things went long, it was looking like they would give people a good show. That didn’t include their covers and whatever crazy songs ended up on the docket thanks to their legion of Twitter followers.

Jazz and Nick were upping the ante for the YouTube channel by doing interviews with the fans once a week.

Part of him was jealous. Those are the things he used to do, but now the thought of spending even ten more minutes in interviews was enough to make him cranky.

Hell, Jazz was getting endless amounts of name suggestions for her baby on Twitter. It was one kid, man. He couldn’t figure out what all the fuss was about.

Deacon and Harper were much more private about their impending parenthood, and Simon was glad he didn’t have to hear their baby crap all day long in Twitter-land, too.

Lila came onto the stage. “Thanks for coming in, guys. I know you’re fried from practice, but I thought you might like a little treat.” She nodded to someone at the soundboard behind them. A huge screen came down and the logo for the local NBC channel filled the screen.

“Now that is a theater setup,” Nick said and kicked out his feet in front of him. Their little blowup from the day before had been forgotten by morning, as usual.

Hell, they’d come to bloody blows and ended up laughing through a drink within the same hour. It was just their way. They’d been scrapping since before they were legal to drive.

Deacon sat behind him, his arm curled around Harper’s shoulders, Jazz and Gray in a similar clutch. The marrieds and the other.

That’s what they’d become. At least the magic on stage hadn’t changed, even if the smug married people had different plans after rehearsal or a show. Those plans usually included rubbing pregnant feet.