Page 74 of White Noise

“Fuck yes. That’s it,” he purrs, his voice a dark, honeyed vibration against my ear. “Such a good fucking human. Look at how beautifully you break. Just a ruined little mess for me. Fuck, you feel so good,”

As I’m still shaking, still riding the peak of that first wave, I feel him tense with his own release, but he doesn't just cum; he fucking erupts.

He lets out a low, guttural growl, his body stiffening as he hammers one last, deep thrust into me.

There is no fluid, no physical release like you’d expect. Instead, there is an explosion of raw power.

A massive surge of energy pulses from his core directly into mine, hitting my pelvis like a goddamn lightning strike.

The shock triggers a second, even more violent orgasm that slams into me before the first one has even faded.

My entire body seizes, my nerves firing in a blinding white overload that leaves me seeing stars. I can’t even scream; I can only gasp, my lungs failing as the energy rewires every inch of my being.

He collapses against me, his weight heavy and searing, a smug, dark laugh vibrating in his chest.

“Yeah,” he pants, his voice dripping with possessive pride. “That’s right. That’s exactly what I fucking thought. Now, you’re nothing but a vessel for me, little echo. I own every single nerve in your body.”

I wait.

I wait for the familiar feeling of him thinning out, for the static to fade and for him to dissolve back into the screens and the shadows.

I expect the cold void to return.

But he doesn't fade.

He stays.

His heart, if he even has one, is thumping against my back, a steady, vibrating rhythm.

He doesn’t let go right away, and I’m too busy trying to remember how breathing works to care. My legs are still unsteady, my pulse is everywhere, and the last thing I need is Silas looking smug about any of it.

Unfortunately, smug seems to be his default setting.

It takes me a second to realize what’s actually wrong.

He’s still here.

Theres no flicker or static tearing through him. No sudden pull dragging him back into the signal.

Just Silas standing behind me, solid and warm and looking far too fucking pleased with himself.

I turn enough to look at him over my shoulder. “You’re not fading.”

His mouth curves slowly. “Not yet.”

The way he says it sends a colder kind of fear through me.

Of course not. Because apparently one murder and one spectacularly bad decision on my part was enough to make the nightmare stronger.

Fantastic.

I pull away from him and drag my shirt back into place, refusing to look as unsteady as I feel. My legs are still weak, my pulse is all over the place, and Silas is watching me with that same dark, knowing expression like he can see every thought I’m trying to bury.

“That changes nothing,” I say.

For a second, he just stares at me, then he laughs.

Low. Mean and smug as hell.