“Fuck, you’re shaking.” Orion’s voice is ravaged with the same agony tearing through me. The tie falls away. But my lungs stay locked, refusing to draw air. I collapse against his chest.
“Dammit.” His body heat envelops me, solid, bracing. “Collins—say something.”
At my weak nod, his voice turns guttural. “Words, Collins.”
“I’m just…lightheaded.”
He exhales a rough breath, my body shifting with the strenuous movement. “Collins, listen to my voice. I’m going to count. I want you to breathe.”
His hand rests firmly along my thigh. Pressing against the fabric of my skirt, his fingers tap out a rhythm, matching the rising notes. “Counting isn’t just compulsion,” he murmurs, “it’s entrainment. Beats naturally synchronizing when close enough. Orbiting stars pulsing in time, two heartbeats aligning. Pulses matching.” His smooth timbre induces a shiver. “One rhythm captures the other until both move as one.”
Each beat is a painful plea for air. But after a moment, I’m able to model my breath to his, breathing with his count.
“That’s my girl.” His chest expands with a deep inhale. The hard lines of his muscles press along my back, encouraging my next shallow breath. As he exhales, his fingers drum a steady beat against my thigh.
“That’s it. Breathe with me, baby,” he commands, tender. “In for four…hold two…out four. Lock onto my rhythm.”
Supporting my weight, he hums, inducing a low current that arcs between our bodies. “One breath at a time. One beat.”
As I strain to match him, letting his cadence draw mine, I sync my broken breath to the force of his. My pulse aligns beat by beat—and his strong, rhythmic heartbeat at my spine claims my pulse.
“That’s it,” he whispers, a desperate edge threaded through his praise. “God, that’s perfect. You’re fucking perfect, Collins.”
The reverence in his deep voice unfurls a hot ache of desire low in my belly, stoked by the subtle, controlled shift of his hips against mine.
As the music builds, a rising tide sweeps through my cells. And I’m being dragged below, into some euphoric surrender. Piano chords flow like currents in the deep, caressing through muscleand bone, these stirring notes that whisper of roaring waves and night, of Orion’s violent, turbulent nature.
“Are you with me?” The rough timbre of his demand drags like friction over my skin.
“Yes,” I breathe out.
“Good.” His voice drops to a gritty rasp, fingers never faltering their count. “Because fuck, angel—I’m seconds from losing my mind.”
His heartbeat is a soothing percussion at my spine, timed to the crashing pulses from the speaker. The heated brush of his breath steals along the sensitive slope of my shoulder, and I shiver at the intimate caress.
“I know exactly what you need,” he murmurs. “I want to hear you shatter, baby. You have to trust me.”
Before I can reason, his hips press me hard into the vibrating speaker, holding me immobile between his unyielding body and the penetrating wave of sound. With slow, controlled thrusts, he rocks against me, each movement timed to the press of his fingers against my thigh.
He sets an infuriating pace. The grind of his erection against my backside is torturous, each tantalizing lick of friction teasing me apart.
“Oh, god…Orion.” I can’t move—caught between the abrasive rub of his body and the relentless pulse of the music. His hips continue to push into mine with a maddeningly slow, possessive prod that hits each beat.
His tie anchors at my throat, held with just enough tension to heighten every sensation, amplify every cascading pulse through me. The restraint I feel trembling through the silk blades does something devastating to my heart.
With a final rock of his hips into mine, he traps me against the mesh, where the endless rise of bursting sound creates a wall of intense bass hits.
A euphoria infuses my cells, giving my body no choice but to surrender to the rush. Tendrils of desire curl through me as his body crushes against mine with a solid, comforting weight.
Flames lick low between my thighs. A penetrating throb hits deep in my core, the ache so consuming, I start to break before the climax even rips through me.
A fever burns through my flesh as I needily grind back against him. I’m tethered to the steady rhythm of his fingers, to the slight, evocative thrust of his hips, as mine cant reflexively into the solid length of him behind me.
Orion groans, low and tortured. “Jesus—fuck, Collins.” My name gritted through the fury of his need sends a shot of arousal into my system.
The feel of him pressed against me, the undeniable proof of how close he is to shattering his ruthless control, ignites a primal hunger. A violent tremble grips me as I gasp for air, my lungs just as starved for that sweet relief.
The moment Orion loosens the tie, my orgasm crashes with breathtaking intensity.
