And now, yet again, she was seeing a different side to Nick and Simon as a unit. She stepped in front of Nick and her knee brushed his denim-clad thigh as she poured his shot.
He slid his leg out farther until the folds in his jeans teased the back of her knee. Her belly flipped and the odd sensation fluttered through her middle and washed over her skin.
His golden eyes were so very different from Simon’s. They should be warm, but the golden brown was more like amber. A frozen shard of sun in the dark.
He watched, assessed, and she was pretty sure he thought too much. But with the tequila warming her veins, she wasn’t sure if it was just her being fanciful.
She moved onto Simon and his winter blue gaze. He’d gone shot for shot with her, but didn’t seem to be affected by the liquor. His fingers dangled along the edges of the couch. He was settled in what at first seemed like a lazy sprawl, but he was ever watchful, and his fingers tensed on the small ledge under the cushion.
Margo refilled his shot glass and tipped it into her mouth, but instead of swallowing the alcohol, she licked into his mouth and transferred it to him.
His eyes flashed and his tongue tangled with hers as the fire chased from her tastebuds to his and then echoed again like an afterburn. Just the barest sliver of silver blue glowed from his heavy lids and full lashes.
Watching.
Always watching.
She backed away from him, nipples tight and clit throbbing. But she wasn’t paying attention and bumped into Tori. Her arm came around Margo’s waist to steady her.
Both Nick and Simon’s eyes widened as Tori’s hand flattened on her middle.
Curious in a way that only tequila could allow, she swayed with Tori. The song had changed to a sultry, digital-heavy song with a female singer.
It spoke of watching, echoed in flavor to what was there in front of her. Two intense men who weren’t ashamed to show both of the women in the room that they were attractive.
Her gaze trailed down over Simon’s rock-hard belly to the worn denim that molded to the steadily growing bulge between his legs.
She glanced over her shoulder at Tori. Her eyes were a little out of focus, but she wasn’t so far gone that Margo was worried about the consequences of the moment.
A curiosity that could be sated without drama.
She tilted her head and waited to see if Tori would reciprocate or if she backed away. She was fine with both, but couldn’t deny that she wondered if a girl kissed differently than a man.
Her nose brushed Tori’s and their lips hovered on the cusp of a kiss, but neither of them seemed to want to take that extra step.
The intent was enough. The heat between them as their hips swayed to the rhythm. Margo’s hand fell to Tori’s waist, and they matched each other beat for beat.
Finally Margo broke the tension between them. Well, between her and Tori, anyway. Margo sucked in a breath and she closed her eyes against the warmth invading her belly.
Tori’s chin brushed along her shoulder as they both looked forward. Simon’s gaze scorched down her neck, then from her breasts to her hips. She and Tori let the song pull the strings and the heat in their men’s gazes brought them full circle.
Simon gripped the couch and his Adam’s apple bounced with a heavy swallow. Margo watched it bob and his throat work another shot glass full of tequila.
She wanted to taste it off his lips again.
She wanted him to lick it off her skin.
God, her breasts felt heavy. Not for Tori’s touch, but for Simon’s.
They slid away from each other with one last fleeting brush of fingertips. Hers along Tori’s hip and Tori’s along Margo’s belly.
Tori sauntered to Nick, her hips rolling with each step until she pressed one knee into the cushion between his legs. His hands came up to cup her ass and stroked up to her hips then back again.
Simon sat forward on his end of the couch. Margo slipped her fingers into his raven wing’s black hair and shuddered as he drew the tip of his tongue across her belly where Tori had lingered. Her shirt had ridden up and he took full advantage.
He watched her as he lapped at her skin and scraped his nails over her flesh as if he could erase Tori’s touch.
Her nipples tightened as he used his nose to push the hem of her shirt higher so he could trail up her belly to the underwire of her bra.
She glanced at Tori and Nick and her breath shuddered out as Tori tucked her hand into the front of Nick’s jeans.
The song changed to a dark Nine Inch Nails song that urged her hips to move against Simon’s touch. He licked along the scallop of lace that hugged over wire and gripped her ribs.
It was a shell of a camisole that molded to her breasts, holding her in. Simon pulled the stretchy lace up with his teeth and breathed over the deep dip of her bra. The fullness of her breasts required her to be creative to keep the lines of her shirts smooth.
And in a moment Simon turned her body against her. The out of control curve of her breasts spilled out and he opened his mouth to taste every inch.
She closed her eyes against the sensation, overwhelmed by the way he made her forget herself. That she was right next to Nick and Tori. It was so easy for her to get lost in his touch.
Her eyes fluttered open to find Tori’s hand stroking over Nick’s hard length as the two of them watched her and Simon.
Bold with the moment and her body’s haywire reactions to the situation, she tore open the buttons on Simon’s jeans. He hissed as she slipped her hand into the fly and found his cock digging into his belly.
She slid her thumb along the head and spread the moisture at the tip around and under to the tight skin at the ridge where his shaft met the curves there.
The deliciously sensitive ridge. She rubbed there again and again, the same place she would have cupped him with her tongue.
Nick watched them as he stroked his tongue along the underside of Tori’s jaw to her ear. Tori pumped him harder and his moan carried over to Margo.
Simon’s attention finally skidded away from their friends and back to Margo. Solely on her. He brushed his stubble-coated jaw against her belly and slid his hands up into her shorts from the bottom. He cupped her backside then tucked his fingertips between her thighs and against her panties. A moan rumbled in his chest.
She was soaked. She’d known it from the way her hips kept rolling at the gnawing restlessness building inside her.
Simon looked up at her and she was torn between watching his reaction and the show beside them.
Tori licked the palm of her hand and increased her grip and the pressure on Nick’s cock until his hips were lifting to meet each stroke.
Simon nosed the cup of her bra aside enough to get to her nipple. He tongued her, flicking over the tip as he watched their neighbors. Simon’s gaze bounced from watching her watch them to simply observing Nick and Tori. And the whole time he sucked on her nipple until it stung. Until it ached.
Finally Simon lifted her up and stood. “Enough,” he whispered against her neck. “I can’t share you any longer.”
His raspy voice knocked her off her axis and stole the tenuous control she had over the insane situation. He strode down the length of the bus to her bunk and tore back the curtain.
His eyes were fierce and possessive, his touch almost rough as he stripped her shirt off, flipped her bra cups up and fell onto her breasts.
She’d never felt Simon cover her before. Pin her against walls, against tile, a bus, but never the delicious pressure of his pelvis fitting into the bowl of her hips. He opened her legs until he fit against her tighter.
His jeans still on, her shorts still buttoned, but he didn’t seem to care about that quite yet. His sole focus was her breasts.
He laced their fingers and brought them over her head until the backs of her hands were pinned against the carpeted surface. He went from one to the other, sucking and biting until she bucked under him.
Still, he didn’t stop.
&
nbsp; She was at his mercy, her breasts thrust high. The heavy curve of the underside was on display because she was spread out like she was on a rack of his own creation.
“Is it wrong that I want to see silver through these?” he asked with a sandpaper whisper.
She shuddered at the thought of his nipple rings. God, she couldn’t stop herself from touching them. Except now, when he’d caged her hands.
“Do they hurt?”
“Sore,” he said on a breath of air. “So sensitive, though.” He released one of her hands and flipped his T-shirt off. He hovered over her, his chest above her mouth.
She lifted off the pillow and traced the ring then tucked her tongue in and tugged it away from his body. His groan was hurtful to her own ears, but the ecstasy on his face made her tug it again.
He shivered above her and as he lowered she coasted her mouth over his chest to his shoulder and sunk her teeth into the muscles there.
“Mark me,” he whispered. “I’m yours as much as you’re mine.” He laved and sucked along her neck and found her pulse as he always did.
Unerringly.
Lovingly.
The sting of his tiny bite zipped through her like lightning and ended at her clit. It pounded with each rasp of his tongue and the ceaseless undulation of his hips into hers.
But everything felt bigger here in this tiny space. As if she couldn’t get away from him, or more importantly that she didn’t want to.
She squeezed his fingers. “Simon, I need…”
“You need what?”
She was so empty.
The thought of telling him that was so huge and so scary that she shut it down.
She didn’t own him. Had never owned him, she was only borrowing.
“I’m yours.”
Her eyes flew open and he gazed at her without fear and without a lick of hesitancy.
“I’ve always been yours, Violin Girl. I’ve just been hoping you would take me.”
Too huge.
Too much.
She buried her face in his neck as he brought one hand down to his fly. She could hear the metal buttons clicking against each other as he tipped to his side just enough to get himself free.
The snap of latex and then he was rocking into her, his pelvis tilting against her. He watched as she took him inside her body.
She curled her free arm around his neck and they met forehead to forehead as he drove into her. Friction. Heat. So much of both. He swiveled his hips and the control she clung to dissipate like fog in sunlight.
He canted his hips until the stroke was so overwhelming and so deep that he touched every part of her. She squeezed her eyes shut against the waves of pleasure that swallowed her.
“No. Open those eyes. See this, see us.”
Her vision wavered, but she managed to stay locked into him as her orgasm started in the center of her and radiated out like starlight, like the spotlights that blinded her some nights, like a note that resonated through her skin and became part of her.
“I love you, Margo.”
She tore her hand out from under his and cupped the back of his head with both hands. She couldn’t find the words, couldn’t even trap the words that tried to form in her throat. They completely failed her.
She’d never given them before.
Her body shuddered under him and she turned her face into his neck.
Oh God. What had she done?
19
Simon’s shoulders heaved as he held onto her. She’d gone from tense and wrapped around him to pliant and quiet.
Watching her in the main part of the bus, the curiosity glowing in her dark eyes as she danced with Tori, when she almost let it be more…
Fuck. He’d never seen anything more beautiful in his life. The awakening of her confidence, the sway of her hips as she let the music and the moment take her over.
But then Tori had dared to touch her.
Where that would have been a dream come true a year ago, the thought of someone else touching her, of Nick watching her—he’d held on as long as he could. He’d wanted to celebrate that bloom of sexual awareness she’d found.
But he couldn’t.
Determination and the blush of alcohol on her cheeks combined into a force that could only be called Margo. It was the only reason he’d lasted as long as he had.
Her hands on his body, the music, the need to stamp himself over her, inside of her—to make her his. He’d lost it.
And now in the crashing aftermath, he’d gone too fast. He hadn’t even realized the words were bubbling inside of him. Denial had been his friend for too many months.
He couldn’t breathe around the stupidity.
The only reason he hadn’t stumbled out of her bunk was because of the gentle glide of her fingertips along his back. She hadn’t spoken, but she hadn’t pushed him away, either.
He pressed his forehead into her shoulder, inhaled their combined scents and her more prevalent honeysuckle, and just let himself own the words. Even as his belly quivered with nerves and fear, he held them close.
In the silence of the moment, the slap of skin and the sounds of Nick and Tori intruded. His body reacted to the sounds and his constant need for her.
He rolled to the side of her bunk, the insulating material at his back as he tucked her ass against his front. He licked along her neck and dragged his nose through her hair to the nape of her neck.
He stroked his hand down over her heavy breasts, plucked at her nipples until she rocked back against him. He tried to put himself back into the box she’d owned since the release party.
The need to give her pleasure, to take her pleasure. To smooth over the huge words that had changed this thing between them. Words that should never have been uttered—both because he was ordered into silence, and because he knew she wasn’t ready to hear him.
Maybe she would never be ready.
He fell back on the things that did make sense. The utter destruction that they raced for each time they got their hands on one another.
The noises outside taunted him.
Nick was making up for lost time, for his self-imposed dry spells that Simon never understood. If he was single, then why would he deny himself?
Each moan from the neighboring bunk seemed to make Margo more fitful. The rustle of sheets, the moans, the slap of flesh. Imagination was a far better aphrodisiac sometimes.
Gauging the culmination of sounds from outside and how they were syncing up in the heated space between them, he knew it wouldn’t take much to bring Margo over.
Maybe that would even overshadow his words for a moment.
He wouldn’t deny them, couldn’t now. Once they were out of the secret spaces inside of him, he couldn’t shove them back. But he wouldn’t use them as a weapon.
They were precious, because he honestly hadn’t thought he had the capacity for them. He’d never known softness. A belt, a backhand, a fist—those were things he understood. The occasional slap on the back from his friends had sustained him for so long.
He hadn’t realized how greedy he was for something bigger than that. Something more.
She was restless against him, her belly and hips undulating to bring his fingers lower. He knew once he touched her silky liquid he’d be done.
He was only a man and the real live sexcapades outside the curtain had pushed him further than he realized.
Margo fumbled above her head and he covered her hand, realizing she was looking for the hidden pocket along the bunk walls. There were no headphones, no iPod, no stash of mints in her hideaway. No, it was far more important.
His fingers found the plastic wrappers of condoms and palmed one. He ripped and fumbled to cover his dick. His one focus had become delving into her warmth. He wanted to hold on to this moment. One that wasn’t taking place in some stairwell or against the wall or acting as a quick fix.
He reached around her and brought her knees up against her body, groaning into her ear as she clung to his arms, her bre
athing shallow in readiness.
He tucked the head of his cock into her waiting body, hovered there at the precipice of her fisting around him. Knowing that the instant he drove inside he’d be gone, he held them there.
The small, keening noise that escaped her and ended in his name was the catalyst. He thrust inside of her, holding her tight against him as his hips took over. Sweat and the ache of overused abs and thigh muscles frayed the pain centers of his system, but the intense pleasure trumped all of that.
He curled his fingers between them to find the slick, stiff clit that crowned over their joined bodies. Her pussy so swollen and sensitive that she tried to twist away.
He hushed her as memories of their first time together and her struggle against the pleasure made him hold her tighter. She shook and nearly hyperventilated, but he held her and fought against the blackness that was creeping around his brain and threatening to end this moment.
He wasn’t ready to come yet.
He wanted to ride this release that she was fighting against. Her sob turned into a hiccupping moan of his name and then she trembled.
He buried himself deep and let go. The soul-destroying pleasure wrapped around him, shredded him, then reformed him into something else entirely.
A man who loved this woman.
Completely.
When he woke, he didn’t quite know how the night had ended. They’d been so drained—literally—that they’d both just slipped into sleep.
He was facedown in the bunk, Margo’s chest plastered to his back, one leg between his and the rest of her curled around his side.
He could happily wake like that for the rest of his life. And that was too serious to think about first thing in the morning.
Simon dug under their tangled bodies to find his phone in his pocket. The battery was on its last fifteen percent, but it was enough to check in. He tucked his chin onto his arm and scrolled through the messages on the one huge band chat thread.
He smiled at the argument between Gray and Deacon on what was the finer foot pedal brand. That was as individual as a pair of shoes.
He wandered over to the itinerary for the day and the list of interviews that he was actually free from for once.
Destroyed (Lost in Oblivion #3) Page 26
