Page 57 of White Noise

But when the pleasure starts building harder and my breathing turns uneven, it isn’t Void I’m picturing.

It’s Silas.

“That’s it, baby. Take it all. Give it all to me,” Void encourages, his breathing coming in ragged gasps.

I’m on the edge, my muscles tightening, my pussy clamping down hard on the silicone.

I let out a piercing scream as the orgasm rips through me, a violent, pulsing explosion that leaves me breathless and shaking.

On the screen, Void lets out a choked sound and cums, his hand blurring as he finishes, his face contorted in a mask of pure ecstasy.

As the aftershocks ripple through my body, I slowly slide the toy out with a wet pop, the air hitting my sensitive, swollen heat. I lean back, my chest heaving, a stray lock of hair sticking to my damp forehead.

By the time I settle back into the chair, I’m smiling for real.

My pulse is up, Void looks thoroughly pleased with himself, and for the first time since last night, my apartment doesn’t feel like something I need to be afraid of.

Then my speaker hisses, and the smile drops from my face.

The sound is faint at first, barely more than a crackle, but I know it immediately.

My whole body goes still.

Void is still talking, but I’m not listening anymore. My eyes are fixed on the television behind him.

The lamp beside it flickers.

Once.

Then again.

“Void.”

He glances over his shoulder. “What?”

The television snaps on.

White static fills the screen.

My stomach drops.

“Move.”

He looks back at me, confused. “What?”

“Get away from the TV.”

Something dark shifts behind the static.

Void turns fully in his chair, and I watch his posture change as the center of the screen starts to bulge outward.

“What the fuck?”

A hand pushes through.

Then an arm.

Void shoots to his feet and stumbles backward, still completely inside the camera frame.