Destroyed (Lost in Oblivion, #3)(78)

Margo folded her arms. “I’m sorry.”

Simon seemed relaxed and tired, but he wouldn’t look at her. And she was learning he was a better actor than she thought.

He shrugged. “Just watching out for me.”

She stepped forward and curled her fingers around his hand. “You were amazing tonight. You didn’t hear me say that part.”

“No, just the part where I sucked.”

She jammed her molars together and forced down a growl. “Nothing about your performance tonight sucked.”

“Except that last part, right?” he whispered. He cleared his throat and swallowed, his eyes still not meeting hers.

She lifted her hand to his chest and he held up his hands. “Not now.” He headed down the hall.

She stomped her foot, unable to help her reaction. God, he frustrated her. “Simon, wait.”

He looked at his feet, but he stopped.

She hurried after him and stood in front of him, lowering her knees until she could catch his gaze, but he wouldn’t look at her. “I just don’t want you to overdo it.” She cupped his jaw and shook him a little.

His fierce winter blue gaze crashed into hers.

“I care, Simon.” She tipped her head up and rose onto her toes. He didn’t close his eyes as she brushed her lips over his. His fingers tightened on her hip, but he simply watched her as she lightly touched his mouth. She stroked his lower lip with the tip of her tongue, and then nipped his upper lip lightly.

“I wouldn’t have told Lila except she’s overscheduling you to compensate for Jazz. But no one’s thinking about you,” she said lightly against his mouth.

“And you are?”

She nodded and swiped her tongue in between his lips until he sucked her deeper, until his arms came up around her and squashed her against his chest.

He went from stillness to intense in the space of a heartbeat. He pushed her down the hallway and across the hall to the lockers.

He slammed the door and snicked the lock closed. No corridor this time, just tiles and the echo of their harsh breathing as he attacked her neck, his teeth clicking against the rose and filigree leaves of her ear cuff.

She groaned as he swiped his tongue over the space behind her ear, then over her fluttering pulse. The tiny nip of his teeth made her shudder.

The mark would be small. The tiniest star-sized bruise. But she had three there, for three nights that she’d taken him like this.

In secret, in hidden spaces around the venues they’d been at every evening.

He pushed at the short A-line skirt she wore and groaned when he found the crotchless hose she was wearing. He crouched down in front of her and breathed over the three inches of skin that showed between the top of the garter-style hose and the band around her thigh.

He dug the tip of his tongue through the see-through lace she wore. “Fuck.”

It wasn’t a whisper, it was a sharp, hard K that she heard over everything else.

The rasp of his tongue at her clit made her squirm. Just that. All it took was his breath on her and she was as wet as if they’d spent an hour in foreplay.

He rose and stared into her eyes as he pushed the scrap of panties aside and slipped his two middle fingers inside her. She wanted to close her eyes, to lose herself in the moment and the pleasure, but she couldn’t.

She watched his intense face as he thrust those fingers inside her again and again. The way his shoulder muscles flexed, the way his Adam’s apple bobbed with each swallow, and the sounds.

She whimpered at the sounds echoing around the tile. Her needy sounds that made her cringe warred with the way her body opened and soaked his fingers. Always for him.

As if he was the single key to her lock.

She did close her eyes at that thought. He twisted his fingers so that his thumb came up and circled her clit until the little sounds turned to a sob.

With his other hand, he struggled with his zipper.

And finally, when she got her hands to work, she went for his button and found a button fly, not a zipper. The satisfying rending of buttons through their respective holes revved her higher.

“Inside me. Please.”

He palmed one of the condoms he always had on him from his pocket and stuck it between his teeth. He lifted one eyebrow and she stole it, jerking the plastic open.

“Shit.” She’d never actually had to put one on before.

His lips spread into a smirk. “Trampoline,” he whispered.

She looked down and flipped it, holding the tip as she firmly and slowly pushed it down his length. His face went from smirky to serious as she circled the base of his cock tightly.

“Inside,” she said.

He withdrew his fingers and pulled her knee up on his hip. These were the perfect moments when she loved her height. When they lined up like this.

He bent his knees enough to drag the head of his cock along her slit, rocking it up and over her clit in a wide, slick circle before he tucked himself inside her and lifted her onto her toes with the force of the thrust.

“God, yes.”

She gripped his shoulders and took each punishing slam of his hips, each dragging stroke as he found that spot deep inside and exploited it. Nothing else existed but the sounds of slapping skin and his harsh breaths against her neck.

She held on through the storm and pressed her cheek against his collarbone, following the tremor of pleasure until her thighs quaked and her insides trembled.