Page 77 of Destroyed With You

“Say it,” he demands.

“I’m yours. You know I am.”

The word is barely out of my mouth when I gasp—he’s ripped the tiny thong right off my body.

I barely notice as he shoves it into his pocket, then lifts my leg, hooking it on his hip. My eyes widen, as he unzips his fly. “Are you sure?” I whisper, but even as I ask, I’m reaching for his cock, then slowly stroking it as he groans into my ear. My entire body tight with need, my sex throbbing in anticipation of this naughty, wonderful game.

“When in Rome,” he says, then kisses me, long and deep. “Put your arms around my neck,” he orders, and I do. My leg is still on his hip, and he uses one hand to hold my ass and another to guide himself to my entrance. Anyone looking will know exactly what we’re doing, but I doubt anyone is looking. There’s a couple just a few feet away, and I’m not paying the slightest attention to them, after all.

“Please,” I beg as the tip of his cock teases me. He moves his hands to grip my hips as his own shift, and then he kisses me hard to block my cry of pain mixed with ecstasy as he fills me in one strong, deep thrust.

He holds me one-handed as I cling to him, my back against the wall as he fucks me hard. His hand teases my clit, and I let my mind think about where we are and what we’re doing. I’d lost this man years ago, and now I’m in his arms at the hottest, sexiest Hollywood party, and he is making me go completely out of my mind.

The world really is a damn funny place sometimes.

“Come for my baby,” he says, his sultry words filling my head. I don’t want to. I want this to last. But his cock and his hands are running the show. He’s playing me like an instrument, and when he whispers, “Now,” my entire body clenches and shakes, and I have to bite his shoulder to keep from screaming as the orgasm crashes through me, again and again until, finally, reality returns and Winston sets me on my feet, then pulls out a handkerchief and gently cleans me up.

He glances toward the door, where the other couple was embracing only moments before. “They’re gone,” he says. “But if it was a competition, I think we won.”

I laugh against his shoulder as I put my dress back together, my face warm from what is now a full-body blush. “I can’t believe we did that.” I tilt my head up to look at him, feeling suddenly shy. “But I liked it.”

Heat still lingers in his eyes, and the corner of his mouth curves up. “So did I, darlin’.”

He bends, then kisses me so tenderly I want to melt into his arms. I feel like something’s shifted between us, but I don’t know what, and we don’t have time to analyze it. “The door,” I say. “We should go before someone else comes to take advantage of the dark.”

He nods, and we cross the short distance to the door. The keypad is exactly as Renly had described and we punch in the code that he’d given us, hoping his source was accurate. There’s a beep, then a click as the lock releases. We open it just enough to squeeze through, then shut it behind us.

“Will I jinx us if I say that was easy?”

I can barely see Winston’s grin in the dark. “Don’t say it. Just in case.” He takes my hand. “Come on,” he urges, as we hurry down the dark hall until we reach the door to the vault.

“Here’s where we find out just how spectacular Renly is in bed,” I say.

Winston laughs. “What the hell?”

I shrug, though he can’t see me. “That woman gave up a lot giving him this code and the one into this hall. All I’m saying is that hope whatever she got or whatever he promised was worth it.”

“Guess we’ll find out.” He punches in the entry code that Renly had given us, each press making a sharp little ping. I’m holding his hand, and my grip tightens with ever note. I turn my body, scanning the hall for anyone who might be barreling down on us, but if anyone is in the dark, they’re not showing themselves.

“We’re in,” he says, and we slip into the vault, propping it open with my shoe as a defense against the locking failsafe that Renly had mentioned.

“There,” I say, using my phone for a light now that we’re away from any potentially prying eyes. “Box two-four-seven.”

He nods, the motion tight. “Try the combination. 11-11-11,” he reminds me.

I do, punching in the series of ones, or trying to anyway. But nothing happens except, after I press enter, I hear a low buzz, like the sound a loser on a TV game show hears.

“It doesn’t want six digits,” I say. “Maybe those aren’t ones.” I try using the alphabet, except when I look at my phone, I realize there is no letter associated with the number one. Or eleven, for that matter. “Fuck. We have the wrong code.”

“No,” he says, his voice hard. Urgent. “No, I refuse to believe that. We’re here at a hotel he used to frequent at a vault number he referenced. We punched in the code he wrote down for himself.”

“Except there’s a flaw in your logic,” I point out. “Because the passcode isn’t work—oh.”

He turns to me, the light from his phone shining on me like a spotlight. “What?”

“It was for him. Just like you said. It’s not the passcode. It’s a clue to the passcode.”

“Great,” Winston says. “Terrific. And if he were alive and standing beside us, this would be no problem at all.”