A deep pang resonates within me, knowing the romance is just as deceptive as touch. Vibrations interact with the electromagnetic fields at the atomic level only. And yet, despite how completely irrational it is, I’m furious over the fucking sound waves for being able to touch her where I can’t.
“Spacetime is like a fabric,” I tell her as my fingers deliberately trail the fabric of her shirt along her spine. “Ripples are sent through it, allowing us to experience this breathtaking moment of collision.”
Collins trembles beneath my shifting touch. My hands explore the alluring flare of her hips, my fingers inching up her skirt until I have the hem bunched above her thighs. The lacy feel of her stockings sends an arousing pulse to my cock.
“Spread your legs,” I demand in a low rasp. A slight shiver travels through her, and I hungrily absorb the recoil as she tentatively parts her thighs.
I uncurl my fingers from her skirt and roam my hand down, grazing over her thigh, intoxicated by the seductive catch of her breath as I coast lower to cup the innermost curve of her knee.
A reactive flame ignites my chest at the faintest taste of her skin.I’m so close to touching her, sensing the warmth of her flesh through the material, the danger of it burns through my veins.
I drag her knee up, spreading her thighs along the speakers. Then I anchor my knee under her leg to trap her in place.
Collins audibly gasps as the sound amplifies, encouraging my hips to press her right up against the metal mesh, where she feels the vibration most intimately.
The science of it can be an erotic sensory experience. Electrical signals cause the cone inside the speakers to vibrate, creating compressions in the air. As the vibrations intensify, the cone moves in and out rapidly, beating harder, faster, simulating sound patterns.
“Tell me you feel that,” I insist, my tone coarse.
Her breathing deepens, the enticing rub of her back against my bare chest a torturous friction. “Yes,” she breathes. “The vibration from the speaker…” She trails off with a hard shiver and tenses. “Oh, god.”
I leash the terrible impulse to give the necktie a hard yank. “You’re so fucking bad for me, starling.” The confession slips past my strained defenses. “But Christ—I want you.”
She rocks her hips in need of further friction, and I’m tethered to her lewd movements, viscerally ensnared by every sexy roll.
“Motherfuck,” I groan as I grind obscenely against her with my own needy response.
Ethereal sounds suspend us in the dark, intensifying this heightened moment. And I’m lost to her—the way her nails scrape across the metal grille as she curls her fingers, currents licking over her body. The desperate, erotic thrusts of her hips that is a goddamn infliction, almost unbearable. How each breathy moan builds, more raw than the next as her body crashes against mine in a tantalizing wave.
She releases a throaty sound that racks my muscles, and the dark waters of my mind rise, forcing me to dig my fingers into her bunched skirt to keep from ruthlessly impaling her.
“The sensory deprivation—” her voice breaks with a rattle of fear “—everything feels more intense.”
Jaw clenched hard, I grit back the need to show her just how intense I can make it.
When one of our senses is deprived, the others go into overdrive. It triggers our primal instincts, urging us to either fight or run from the hidden danger in the dark.
And I’m desperate to unwrap my anomaly, to tear her open and discover what hidden danger haunts her dark corners.
There’s a monster in her past, and I want to wrestle with it.
“The adrenaline rush amplifies our other senses,” I say in a gruff whisper over her ear. A heated curse falls from my mouth when her only response is to rub herself over the speaker. “Fuck, you really want to destroy me.”
So damn tempted to hook my finger beneath her panties and tear them away, I have to brace my hand on the speaker cabinet above her. Fingers tapping in time with the rhythm, I’m barely restraining the vicious craving to shove her to her knees. Flip this tower over and force her to ride the speaker in the most salacious, filthy way.
My cock throbs at the prospect, and I’m only deterred by the fact that I wouldn’t be able to watch her through the dark.
My rampaging heart chases the escalating rise of hers, where—for a prolonged note—we beat in unison, an unbroken, resonant legato. Drawn into the pulse of her heart against my chest, its rhythm infuses the currents washing through me.
Like a beautiful symphony, we move in tandem, two celestial bodies tidal locking and creating a sound so transcendent it’s unsettling. Mingled with her soft cries, it’s more divine than a heaven chord ringing into eternity.
When she breaks, it will be a goddamn religious experience.
Every subtle movement between our bodies is slow and measured. Her inhalations timed to mine, her rib cage stitched to my bones, where every shudder pulls at my sinew. Frustrating and painful and gratifying.
The pulses in the music build, the bass hitting strong, drawing a cry as she tenses against the speakers. Tremors thrum through her body to mine, and my heart chases the frantic beat of hers.
She’s close—but I don’t want her close.
