Wicked Serenade: a Lost in Oblivion Collection

by Quinn, Cari

  Simon didn’t even blink. He slipped under the bars of one of the barriers that surrounded the octopus ride.

  “This is restricted,” she hissed.

  He simply smiled and dragged her off into the mechanical room.

  “Oh, my God. You really want to get kicked out of this park, don’t you?”

  He crowded her into the corner of the shack sized room and lifted his finger to his lips. The stampede of women and teenagers were complaining that they’d lost him.

  She’d known they were famous, but this kind of famous made her sag against the wall. There had been over twenty people—mostly women—that had chased them through the park. Twenty. And she was pretty sure there had been more, but they’d given up the hunt a little easier.

  The paparazzi she understood. He’d collapsed on the stage and had made the news, but this was something else all together. Not just an autograph, but literally a chase to get to him. And she was in a tiny little room with him and her shirt was sticking to her back from the lack of air.

  He shrugged and leaned in to kiss her.

  Seriously? She widened her eyes and clenched her jaw.

  He brushed his nose along hers. He mouthed, “C’mon. Don’t be like that.” His fingers slid along the slice of skin showing from the knot in her shirt. He snaked up her ribs to the underside of her breast. She tipped her head back against the wall and let out a moan.

  It seemed like it had been forever since she’d touched him, but this felt so much like how they’d been for the last few months—illicit moments in the shadows. When he pushed the cup up and covered her breast, she hissed. The way he plucked her nipple, twisting it exactly with the right amount of pleasure, made her drop her hand to clutch his arm. He fastened his mouth over her nipple through her shirt. The friction from the cotton and his strong tongue left an echoing reaction between her legs.

  “Simon,” she panted.

  He sucked harder, cupping her breast so he could concentrate on the tip. He breathed against the wet spot he’d made and dragged her shirt down until the material stretched and then it was his mouth on her flesh. He scraped his teeth over the tip and pulled it away from her skin.

  “Fuck,” she whispered.

  His eyes lit. She rarely swore, but when it came to them and sex she couldn’t seem to hold back. He pushed his hand into her pants, unbuttoning them enough to get down into her panties. She slammed her spine into the wall and cried out as he slipped two fingers into her and used his thumb ruthlessly.

  He stared at her, his eyes the color of the center of a flame. There was no sweetness, no light, no easing over into orgasm. It was simply there, crashing into her like a summer storm off the water. Frighteningly intense and over in an instant.

  Instead of pulling away like they’d done a million times before, he toyed with her. He leaned into her and nibbled up her neck as he slowly slipped his fingers through her folds. Where a moment before he’d been aggressive to the point of maddening, now he was gentle as if they had hours to do this.

  He turned his fingers until one of his knuckles brushed under her hood. With slow circles, he played her clit like he owned it. Circling, circling, pressing and holding until she could do nothing but feel.

  She gripped his arm, nails scraping down his ropey muscles to the light dusting of dark hair that covered his forearms. The sounds coming out of her were nothing she’d heard before. Needy, breathy, urging him to go faster, give her more, fill her up.

  She tried to hold them back, but he simply kept strumming her. His forearm flexed under her fingers as she dug deeper and tried to drag him away from her intensely sensitive center. She was used to him tossing her over the edge. They were usually in such a hurry. Here, they should be in the same hurry.

  But he wasn’t having any of it.

  He pulsed against her until her hips followed suit. Until the soft, undulating rhythm was mirrored in every way. And she took. God, she took until she was mindless with it.

  He tugged on her ear, nipped in those tiny little bruising bites that would star her skin like purple freckles. The tiny pinpoints of pain made his soft touch seem even more intense.

  But the silence was what she couldn’t handle. He was usually groaning or growling into her ear, or saying something filthy as he stretched her full of his cock. But not here. The gentleness was almost worse.

  It was a shock to the system and when the slow and easy finally threatened to cover her with darkness, she sobbed out his name. His sweet hush of breath between his teeth focused her again.

  She shook around him and broke, this second release crashing into another as he shoved two fingers inside her again and again. The liquid heat rushing around his fingers and down her inner thighs left her sagging against the wall.

  Destroyed her.

  Consumed her.

  Rebuilt her.

  Fierce and possessive, his mouth found hers. He pulled his fingers free of her and broke off the kiss. He trailed his tongue over her lips, then slid his fingers into his mouth and sucked them dry.

  The look in his eyes made her stand on her toes and wrap her arms around his neck. She didn’t even think, didn’t pause at all, just slammed her mouth on his and took her taste mixed with his and finally let the feelings that had been brewing for him inside.

  She cupped the back of his head and pressed her forehead to his. “Simon, I—”

  He pressed the same two fingers over her mouth and shook his head.

  No, it wasn’t the right time, but the words were there, blooming like hope and madness. She just wasn’t sure which one was going to win out.

  Six

  Simon’s heart rate matched the throb in his dick. Christ, he was hard for her. Wanted to pin her to the goddamn wall and sink into her until she made all of those sounds again.

  Every fucking one.

  He’d never felt her fall apart like that for him. Now he wanted it like oxygen. He loved the quick bang, but there was something to be said for the endless wave of patience as she quaked under him.

  Goddamn, yes.

  She was flushed and her huge eyes were the color of obsidian in the diffused light. In a shack, for fuck’s sake. The fans had chased him into this sweatbox with a sliver of a window and now it was his favorite place on the planet.

  Could he buy it? Put it on a slice of land and build around it? Keep the magic here in this little place? He brushed his thumb over her mouth. God, that mouth. It was so ripe and red from his kisses and her own teeth biting into her lower lip. She’d come so hard his fingers still felt the ghost of her muscles clamping down on him.

  Fingers that should be his cock.

  Would be his cock soon.

  But for now they needed to roll. There was too much outside noise that was starting to dent the fog of sex they’d been drowning in. Watching Margo orgasm her goddamn brains out was his favorite thing on a good day, but here and now? Yeah, nothing could beat this. She was a freaking goddess.

  But she was his goddess. He didn’t want anyone else to get a glimpse of this moment. So he ignored his raging hard-on and watched her as she buttoned up those perfect purple pants. His new favorite color.

  “What?”

  He grinned at her.

  “Stop looking at me like that.”

  He arched his eyebrow until she laughed. She righted her bra and her shirt and didn’t seem to know what to do with her hands. He took one and linked their fingers, dragging her to the door.

  For the second time that day, he looked out to make sure no one would see them. His flips sounded loud on the gravel. There was no real way to be quiet so he rushed across the length of stones to the walking path. With his hat and glasses, he was a no one again.

  A no one with a hot girl next to him.

  Just how he liked it.

  And because there were too many people on the lookout for him, he veered out the gate to the boardwalk. He ducked into the first T-shirt and trinket store and snagged a do-rag with the American flag on i
t, a Venice Beach T-shirt, and a hideous pair of aqua Hawaiian style board shorts off the racks.

  He pulled the tags off, handed them and his duffel to Margo. He mouthed, “wallet,” and pointed to his bag. She nodded and took the tags up front to the cashier. He closeted himself into the dressing room and shucked his clothes, swapping them out for tourist chic.

  “Hi. My boyfriend spilled one of those blue slushy drinks all over himself. Can I give you these tags to ring out?”

  Simon rolled his eyes. She had to go with him being a klutz. How nice of her. He scooped his dark hair back and tugged the do-rag over it all, tucking the extra pieces under so he could tie it tight. He put his aviators back on.

  Nothing matched and he looked like a dork.

  Perfect.

  She met him at the door and stopped. “Wow.”

  He wiggled his fingers and she handed him his duffel. He shoved his clothes into his bag. There was no way he was giving up his T-shirt.

  “Wow.”

  He squinted at her and tugged the bandanna lower on his forehead.

  She laughed. “How can you pick the ugliest outfit in the whole store and still look hot? It’s ridiculous.”

  He grinned and unearthed his board and marker.

  It’s a gift.

  She snorted. “Yeah, that’s what it is.”

  He scribbled on his board.

  I’m sick of this pier. I want to show you my place.

  “I’ve seen your place.”

  He swiped the board clean and wrote again. No, that house wasn’t him. It was them. It was what they’d started to become as a band, but it wasn’t him.

  The beach walk at Venice Beach. My beach. My people.

  She shrugged. “We’ll get our exercise.”

  He flicked through the cards in his wallet, grinned at the blue card that was still in there and shoved everything back into his bag. He stood and took her hand.

  “Where are we going? The pier is the other way.”

  He grinned over his shoulder and dragged her through the people heading for the bus line. The sign for The Big Blue Bus came into view and when the doors opened, he tapped his card against the reader for two fares.

  “Bus?”

  He wasn’t entirely sure his East Coast blue blood had ever been on a bus, so this would be an adventure. He drew her in front of him and tucked them against the glass, his arm slipping over her shoulders, arm dangling over her very tempting chest. By some miracle he kept himself in check. Her attention was out the window anyway, focused on the busy streets and pedestrian traffic along with the high rises and hotels that looked out on the water.

  The diesel fumes warred with the salt and made him more anxious to get to the boardwalk. The bus made a dozen stops.

  She placed her hand on his bouncing knee. “We’ll get there.”

  He brushed an absent kiss along her temple and eased a little when she melted into him. This, he wasn’t used to. She never really relaxed around him. They were too busy finding dark corners to fuck in. Then the fucking had slowly merged into intense moments that they both tried to ignore.

  Somewhere in there he’d found himself wanting more.

  And the words had come out.

  Words she hadn’t reciprocated.

  And now she’d almost said them back, but he didn’t know if it was pity or because she really felt them. How could he know? He didn’t know what this love deal was. He knew he felt it, but more because it was the only name he could put to it.

  He understood affection, and a little bit about friendship because of the band, but he really didn’t know love. And if it was this confusing in his head it had to be love. It was all he could figure out.

  Her dark hair curled lightly at her temples with the humidity of the ocean and heat of the day. Her huge dark eyes were sparkling in a way he’d never seen before. His reserved Margo was missing. A change of wardrobe came with a change of attitude?

  Or was this just a woman finally allowing herself to be in the moment?

  He wasn’t sure where it had come from, but he wouldn’t question it. Right now there was so little in his life that made sense that he had to take this one faith.

  And that scared the fuck out of him.

  Her hand smoothed up his thigh to tease the strings of his board shorts. His attention immediately snapped to her gently exploring touch.

  Don’t get a hard-on. Don’t get a hard-on.

  The chant wasn’t really working. He looked around. They were on a bus crammed with people and children and grandmothers, for fuck’s sake and she chose now to get frisky?

  But no.

  She skipped the tent pole she’d created and slipped her fingers under his T-shirt to lightly trail her fingertips along his skin. Her gaze didn’t stray from the window. She was still people watching.

  He focused on her lips, waiting for them to twitch in humor.

  But no.

  Nope, she was just touching him to touch him.

  He eased against her, trying out an innocent touch of his own. He made lazy designs on her arm and was rewarded with more of that melting Margo. She tipped her head against his shoulder and looked up at him with a soft smile. It seemed natural to drop a kiss on her mouth.

  Nothing seeking, nothing deep. Just a simple kiss as lovers would. Well, as he figured lovers would do. He’d never had much more than an overnighter with a woman. Maybe an occasional weekend.

  Not because he didn’t want more.

  He always wanted more. But because his life just didn’t allow for it. When he was younger he just didn’t think to ask for more. Women looked at him and had a plan for how they spent time with him.

  Fling.

  Fuck.

  Freaky night of debauchery.

  And he’d been more than willing to oblige. But from the beginning, Margo had been different. Leagues different. She’d wanted the same thing as every other woman, but that hadn’t been enough for him.

  For the first time, he wanted so much more than that.

  He brought his hand up to cup her face, his fingers lightly caging her jawline as he eased the light kiss into something a little more them. Her eyes slit open and watched him watching her. His cock was a little too into the idea, but he concentrated on her not his lonely dick.

  He sipped from her, learning the sweet lines of her lush lower lip and tracing the lines and dips of her top until they both went under. His fingertips drifted lower to her neck and slowly slid around the back of her nape into her hair.

  It was the slowest and most thorough kiss he’d ever experienced. He liked to take his time, but he always had an end goal that was achieved with another set of lips. He rather liked seeing just how much pleasure could come from a single kiss.

  When the bus driver bleated out a call for the main attraction destination, he was thankful. They would have blasted past the stop for sure. Because he could have kissed her for an hour easily.

  She drew back with a gasp and he waggled his eyebrows in reaction.

  Her fingers had dug into his side, but he didn’t notice until they were gone. She cleared her throat and reached for their bags. He took the duffel away from her and eased out into the path of people, holding them back long enough for her to slide out.

  “Thank you.” She smiled at the bus driver and he grinned back, tipping his head.

  Simon gave the universal thanks and followed her off.

  Now this was more like it.

  The sand and the endless color of Venice Beach Boardwalk greeted them. She linked her fingers with his and marched forward, dragging him behind. Sunset was on its way and he really needed to see that on his ocean, in his area.

  He vetoed her plans and dragged her off the path, past the skate park.

  “Simon, wait there’s so many shops and—”

  He shook his head and dragged her down the winding cement path with musicians dotting every square inch. Those weren’t his destination, but he couldn’t say he minded her delighted laugh at
the fiddler that blocked their way and sawed his bow across strings in a lively tune.

  Playing along, Simon dragged her around into a spinning quick step dance before they both stumbled off the path to the sand. They waved to the musician and Margo’s laughter pushed another rock off his chest. He dragged her over to the lockers and stashed their gear and shoes. When she shucked her capris, he swallowed audibly.

  “What?”

  He flicked his fingers over the little strings of her bikini bottoms.

  “You’re not allowed to make fun of my hips.”

  His eyebrows shot up. Christ, there wasn’t a thing wrong with her hips. He crouched in front of her and pressed a nipping kiss just below the bow.

  Her eyes widened and she nudged him away. He grinned and locked their locker, pocketing the key.

  She pulled down her T-shirt. “Will our stuff be safe?”

  He gave her a shrug with a so-so gesture and she rolled her eyes.

  Fingers linked, they wandered down to the surf. The tide was out and the sun was dipping ever lower into the horizon. The quiet between them was as gentle as the foaming water lapping at their toes.

  There was a restorative peace that only the water could bring. He couldn’t explain it, and when he was away from it for too long, his body felt out of whack. The worry lines that had begun to show on her face seemed to disappear and the sleepy lidded look to her eyes relaxed him even more.

  His girl understood the water without him having to explain it.

  Not that he had the words at the moment, but he could see it there in the way she tipped her head back for the final rays of sun. The closer they got to the pier, the more she loosened up.

  She grinned at him as he looked around and nodded to the shadows under the pier. “And what exactly would you want to do under the pier?”

  He shrugged and gave her a sly smile.

  “You wouldn’t be looking to take advantage of me, would you?”

  He slid his fingers along her back, teasing under the very edge of her bikini. Water splashed around their calves and dotted her tanned skin with sand and salt.