by Cari Quinn
The hot-blooded woman who’d tossed sense to the wind when she hooked up with this man-child wanted to feed off of it. Wanted it to fill her up until she was screaming.
She let her violin hang by her side as she slowly moved toward him. The murmurs between the band rose, and the moody drums kicked her heart into overdrive. At the fringes of her periphery, she noticed Gray move behind Jazz on the ramp. His sultry guitar filled the room. Nick layered his grittier playing over it until the sound resonated in a bastardized choir that only Oblivion could create.
The audience went nuts when they recognized the song.
It wasn’t one of those songs that took the world by storm, but it was powerful. And Simon’s box mic filled his hand as he dragged her into a dreamy dance. The lights shifted into that smoky blue as he sang the song to her.
“Arsonist’s Lullaby” was a favorite of theirs. She’d even found a way to insert her strings into the song when they’d started playing with setlists again. But there was no room for her tonight. Not with the way Simon was singing to her.
Instead, it felt intimate in a way that crawled under her skin and rolled her under his spell.
She hadn’t bothered putting her hair back up after he’d ruined it earlier. It was sticking to her neck and driving her crazy, but right now, it didn’t much matter. Not when his hand kept creeping up her back and their slow dance got slower and dirtier.
He pressed his forehead to hers and his voice went another octave lower, making her shiver. The hums in the song vibrated between them, filling his chest until the sound lit up the space between them.
They swayed and spun until the microphone cord wound them tighter together. Simon smiled as the song ended. She lifted onto her toes to line them up and she initiated the kiss. Let him feel how affected she was.
His fingers fisted in her hair as the kiss flayed her inside and out. She let herself go and when he tore his mouth from hers as the band started “The Chain,” she could only smile back at him. He was her music tonight.
Every night.
Jazz and Gray started up the iconic opening of the song, and Simon gave her one more quick kiss before detangling from her and running up to meet Gray on the ramp behind Jazz. Nick and Gray dueled it out, extending the guitar solo as Simon picked up the vocals with Jazz and Deacon.
The rest of the night was a speeding train of high octane songs. The crowd loved it, ate every bit of it up, demanding two encores.
Whew.
Luckily, they didn’t have a fan event after the show because they were all wrung out and barely coherent.
Now that the performance was over, the parental types among the band members had gone to relieve the two nannies who traveled with them on tour. That left her and Simon alone as usual.
She slid her hand over her middle. At least for now.
He’d disappeared to shower off the stage. Considering he was closer to naked than most of them by the end of the night, it wasn’t a long process.
In fact, even faster than usual. He came up behind her, curling his arm around her.
“I’ve been hard for you since before that fucking Arsonist’s song. Whatdya say to grabbing an Uber back to the hotel?”
She grinned over her shoulder. “Do they Uber here?”
“What-the-fuck-ever. I just want you under me. Then maybe over me. Then on your fucking knees looking at me like you did just before you kissed me as if we weren’t in front of six-thousand people.”
She turned in his arms. She should tell him her news. Their news. They’d promised to stop with the secrets, but she didn’t want to let this feeling go.
Not now.
Not when he’d been so off-balance earlier.
Margo stood on her toes and draped her arms over his shoulders so she could play with his freshly washed hair. “What if I want to suck you off first?”
Four
Jesus fuck, she was going to kill him tonight.
The show had revved him up, pushing the Ian Kagan business to the back of his mind for a little while. As usual, anything to do with Margo could reroute the blood supply from his big head to his not so little one in a flash.
Even a shower hadn’t slowed him down. In fact, soaping up had only gotten him more excited.
He allowed the heat they’d stirred up onstage to push away thoughts of Ian as he urged her out the back door and down the alley to the busy street. There was no way they were going to find a car now. Nor get one to them in the crush of people.
Flashbacks to their first tour when they’d had to sneak away to find time together crowded in on the lust burning a hole through his chest. He clasped her hand and dragged her down the uneven streets in the loud and active city of London. She laughed and ran after him. The sultry sound rose above the street noise, urging him to find a way to get her under him even faster.
Or on her knees.
Fuck, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to hold out if she did that right now.
They bypassed pubs and clubs until finally, he glimpsed a sign for the Tube. He dug out his phone and cursed. Between the multiple encores and his shower, it was well after midnight.
“I’ll never understand why they stop running transportation this early.”
Margo bumped into him. She curled her fingers into the back of his belt and rubbed against him like she was in heat, for fuck’s sake. He growled and looked around for a cab, but no one seemed to have their stupid light on.
Her fingers inched under his shirt, scraping down his spine. He glanced down at her, groaning when her teeth sawed her lower lip. She started walking backward, dragging him toward a bakery that was decidedly not open.
“What are you…”
She tucked her other hand into the front of his pants. The quick bite of her nails made his dick strain up for her. “Margo.”
The deeper into the shadows they went, the more his cock throbbed. She crouched in front of him, hauling him in closer until he had no choice but to brace his hand against the brick wall behind her.
He looked around to make sure there was no one around. Just one camera phone could end them and bring the hellfire of Lila and her PR team down on them like a fucking hammer. The clink of his buckle against his zipper made him hiss and then his head dropped back as his wife drew the head of his cock between her warm, perfect lips.
“Fuck.”
She knew just how to touch him. She fisted his length, following it up with strong pulls from her delectable mouth. Her lips were already bruised from their manic kissing all night and the abuse of her own teeth. Again and again, she swallowed him down, her nails digging into his belly as she pushed his shirt up and out of the way.
The finish was coming way too fast. She was much too good at pushing every button in his damn body. Emotionally, physically, and mentally—she knew how to play him like the violin that was an extension of her.
He threaded his fingers through her hair and tried to draw her off him, to make it last, but she had other plans.
She took him deeper, stroked him until there was no choice but coming down her sweet, elegant throat. She took every drop, staring up at him with those huge, fathomless brown eyes that seemed black in the darkness of the alleyway.
The scent of yeasty bread and the ever-present rain filled his brain as he came back to his body. She stood up, crowding into his chest with her hands under his shirt. She kissed his neck as she swayed against him. “Take me back to our room, husband.”
“Fuck, baby. Are you trying to kill me?”
Her ruined lips stretched into a smug smile. “Yes.”
“Mission accomplished.” He shoved his depleted dick back into his pants and zipped up. He need a cab.
Now.
He also needed to wipe that smug smile off her face and hear a scream instead. Her screams. Not the sexy little mews she gave him willingly. Tonight, he needed the raw. He needed her straining.
She laughed as he sprinted across the street, pulling her behind him to the black ta
xi with its light on. He didn’t even bother asking, just opened the door and pushed her inside.
The driver shot a look over his shoulder. “I don’t take drunk fares.”
“Not drunk, just want to get to our hotel. An extra fifty in it for you if you make it fast,” Simon said.
Margo hauled Simon in after her with a laugh. “Hundred if you keep your eyes straight ahead.”
The guy barked out a laugh. “Deal.”
Simon let out a surprised laugh when she straddled him. Without hesitation, he took her mouth. He tasted himself on her tongue and the heat of whatever had been brewing between them tonight. She was playful at the moment. Not the heated girl in the alley who’d jacked him off like he was a damn fourteen-year-old.
Nope, this was the young and fun Margo who didn’t come out to play very often.
“Trying to give our cab driver a show?”
She wiggled on his lap. “No. Just don’t want this feeling to slip away.”
He frowned up at her. “Why would it?”
She shrugged and toyed with his hair. “I don’t know. Just being silly, I guess.”
“Are you sure that’s it?”
“Just for tonight, can we push all the bullshit away?”
Rather than answer, he tipped up his face and nipped her chin. He hadn’t really talked to her about Ian, nor did he want to right now. The anger was so close, too close, if he didn’t keep his focus solely on Margo.
She was all he’d ever need anyway.
They made out like teenagers, laughing when the cabbie had to loudly clear his throat. Simon broke away from his very distracting wife and set her on the seat beside him. “Sorry.”
“I’m jealous, boyo.” The lyrical Irish came from the guy instead of the cockney they’d grown used to in the last week.
“You should be. My wife is a gorgeous and passionate creature.”
“Simon.”
“Talking about yer wife that way is refreshing. Take it with a smile, Miss.”
Margo blushed and pushed her way out of the car with a mumbled, “Thank you.”
Simon handed over the promised hundred with another twenty. “Thanks, man.”
The driver grinned and gave him a snappy two finger salute. “Anytime.”
When Simon got out of the cab, he caught the embarrassed flush glowing off Margo’s fair skin. Before she had a chance to bring out the very proper New England version of herself, he hooked an arm around her neck and hauled her up the steps to their hotel. “Would you like a play-by-play of what I’m going to do to you in retaliation for that alleyway stunt?”
She laughed as he’d known she would. “As if that was the first time I’ve given you…” Her dark eyes went wide as she trailed off when the doorman appeared in front of them.
Simon laughed. “Good evening,” he said to the tired-looking man.
“Evening, Mr. and Mrs. Kagan.”
Simon couldn’t quite get over how formal the UK could be sometimes. He nodded to the man, then pulled Margo tighter against him and made a bee-line for the elevator. She twisted her fingers around his as they waited in the very ornate—and very empty—lobby.
It was so hushed, Simon couldn’t even tease her with a little dirty talk. Instead, a slow intensity bloomed and grew between them.
An older couple met them just as the doors opened. They all rode upstairs in silence. Margo’s fingers tugged at the hem of her skirt.
Instead of letting her be, he drew the pads of his fingers down her ass to the little slit in her skirt. He traced a lazy figure eight along the back of her thigh, then a nine as the numbers lit up above the doors.
She shivered when he traced a ten along her inner thigh and then an eleven. “We’re here,” he said against her throat just before the doors opened. He slipped out of her skirt and took her hand. “Have a good night,” he said to the couple.
“What a nice young man,” the woman said as the doors closed behind them.
“You’re not a nice man,” Margo said in an undertone.
“I’m not?” He walked backwards, leading her down the hallway to their room.
“No.” One brow speared up into the wreckage of her hair. Her bangs were fluffed up from the car and the alley.
He growled. “You’re right.”
And he wasn’t going to apologize for that either. Not when he knew she loved that side of him every bit as much as he loved tearing apart the carefully constructed facade she showed the world.
But not him. Never him.
He dug out their keycard from the little pocket stashed on the back of his phone. Before she could say a word, he pulled her inside, flipped off the little sweater she wore over her corset top, and turned her to face the wall.
“Don’t move. You may want to hold on for this,” he murmured, dragging his fingers over the corset’s hooks to the stretchy fabric of her skirt. He peeled it down, letting it drop to the floor.
“Simon.”
He crowded her into the wall, slipping his hand between her thighs. “So wet for me. I love when you get all riled up from sucking me off. Did it remind you of that night in Saratoga all those years ago?”
She let out a soft groan.
“I remember that night. I lived off that night for a damn long time.” He dug deeper until he felt the pop of her seam giving way for him. The silky warmth of her pussy made him impatient.
Just like another night.
The first night.
He ripped her tights wide open and crouched behind her. He jerked her panties aside to get to her. To taste her. He couldn’t go another minute without it. The civility of undressing her was beyond him at that moment. He lapped at her wetness, dying a little inside when she gave him more. Always gave him more.
Her tights were in tatters before he calmed enough to properly do his job. She soaked his face, his fingers, his tongue. He couldn’t get enough of her as he stroked her and readied her for his cock.
He was already hard for her, but tonight, he felt clumsy. She’d already made him come once, but it had barely slaked the need crawling under his skin. He was wild with it, and didn’t have the wherewithal to temper his hunger.
Or hers.
He followed the call of her body. The sweet relief of her first cries. He used two fingers, then three and licked her from front to back. Anything to get her there. Her thighs trembled first, then her whole body. He gripped her ass as he pushed her for more, demanded everything. When she swayed against him, he gripped her hips to steady her even as he dipped his tongue deeper.
She slapped the wall and growled his name. He smiled against her thigh, then against the slick perfection of her pussy, and he circled her clit with his fingers with an accuracy born of intimate knowledge. It still wasn’t enough.
Her warnings of retribution only drove his need for more.
He stood up and jerked his pants open. He dragged the head of his cock through her lips and groaned at the heat of her.
Another night with tights just as shredded superimposed on this one. He’d been just as wild for her then. The rightness of her clasping body was no less amazing now than it had been that night.
With his other hand, he jerked at the hooks keeping her skin from him.
She pushed at the clothing and twisted her neck enough to meet his gaze. Her eyes were crazy with want. He knew what she needed. When her corset lay at his feet, he filled his hands with her swollen breasts. He tugged on one and she cried out. She didn’t have her piercings in tonight, but she didn’t need them.
“So fucking sensitive.” Her tight nipples drilled into his palm and she pushed her ass back against him until the tip of his cock slid inside.
“Simon. I need. God…” She pressed her forehead to the wall. “Please.”
He released one breast to grab a hold of his cock. “Please?” He swiped it through her folds and paused at her entrance. He plucked at her nipple. She whimpered and undulated those sexy hips, trying to get him to thrust inside of her.
“Sadist,” she gasped.
He nosed her hair out of the way and sank his teeth into her neck. “Tell me what you need.”
“You.”
“Me?”
“Inside me, dammit.” She wiggled until he slipped inside an inch, then two.
He shoved her up against the wall, thanking God for her heels tonight. They were nearly the same height to begin with, but right now, they lined up perfectly.
“Are you sure?” he panted against her neck. The lone light they’d left on in their room left them mostly in shadow. He’d earned the right to see her in the light. To lay her out and watch every nuance of her reactions as they came together. The shadows had been clawing at him all day. He shouldn’t drag her down there with him.
Then she reached back and curled her fingers into his hair, pulling him closer. “Fuck me.” Her voice was strained and husky. “God, just fuck me.”
All the invitation he needed.
He slammed inside her and she screamed. Just as he’d craved. It was as if a switch had been flipped in Margo, from semi-restrained to…this.
This was all he would accept. Now and forever.
He drove into her again and again. She took each thrust with the giving perfection of her body. She even pushed back on him and begged for more.
He was desperately afraid he was unleashing too much on her, but she anchored a hand in his hair, down the back of his neck, and held him closer.
Sweat poured down his spine and into his eyes as he took and took and prayed he was giving back at the same time.
His name was on her lips. It quaked around him and finally infiltrated the haze in his brain. Her hiccuping sob broke him and let him finally slow enough to accept the raging release that only she could provide.
He came until his mind emptied.
Until she took every single twisting shadow eating him alive and left him blissfully quiet and clean.
He laid his cheek against her shoulder and curled his arms around her. “Margo.”
She waved her hand a little and sagged against the wall. “Margo isn’t here right now. She’s currently dead.”
He laughed. “Are you okay?”
