Page 12 of Ripple Effect, Vol. 4

The violet wand he used on me still sits on the nightstand, taunting me, so I pick up the base of it, letting the probe dangle in front of him. Darkness shadows his face and his lips pull ever so slightly into a devious smirk.

I flip the switch, upping the intensity, and smooth a piece of the tape over the end of the probe, securing it to my body, just as he had that first night. A thrilling sensation moves beneath my skin, exciting my muscles, stirring tingles that warm my blood. I’m electrified. Rubbing my fingers produces nothing, but I know anything I touch will transfer the current as it had when Rip used it on me.

“Don’t move your hands. Don’t touch me.” I echo his words from our first night together, and a quiver winds deep inside my stomach when his jaw shifts, the quick rise and fall of his chest telling me he’s eager for what’s to come.

He jerks beneath me, his succulent dick hard, sketched by veins that feed his mouth-watering erection.

I grab the blade, slide it across his thigh without drawing blood, and his head tips back on a sharp inhale with the hint of a smile playing on his lips. I drag the knife across his chest and he bucks beneath me, the current flowing through the blade to his skin.

“Fuck! More,” he says in a husky voice that twitches my thighs.

I don’t have to be experienced with him. It’s not a matter of having screwed hundreds of men and knowing a million different sex positions. He gets off on the unknowns. The anticipation.

I toss the knife onto the nightstand with a clang, and when I circle my fingers around his shaft, he kicks his head back, his roar of agony bouncing off the walls with each slide against his skin.

He lifts his ass up off the bed, and I recoil, thinking he’s going to hit me, until his eyes close, teeth clenched with a smile, hunger and desire waging war across his face.

I stroke him up and down, nothing more than a feather touch, maintaining a small gap between my fingertips and his shaft, just enough to allow the current to pass over his flesh.

His face carries a sheen of sweat, and his muscles quake beneath me. Veins in his neck pop out, his jaw shifting with the grinding of his teeth. “Fuck!”

The way he arches into me, lost to pleasure, makes me want him in ways I shouldn’t. Ways that make him more than a killer paying a homeless junkie for sex. He’s handsome and ruthless in his pursuit of climax, and I want to be the one to give that to him, to have him scream my name when he finally succumbs.

From the nightstand, I nab a condom from inside and tear it open with my teeth. Based on what I know of electricity and conduction from basic science, the condom should provide just enough of a gap between our skin for the current to move.

His erection still stands tall and proud as I glide the condom over his shaft.

I lower the intensity of the wand and drag my tongue over his chest, around his nipple where he lets out a quiet grunt. I tear the tape away and hand him the probe that transfers the conduction from me to him.

Sinking down on him is no easy feat when he’s as hard as he is, and I’m trying not to touch any other part of his skin, which will dull the current. I bite my lip, taking him inches at a time while his cock effervesces an electrical charge inside of me, tingling as he enters me. “Ah, Rip!” I stretch around him, and after two easy glides along his shaft, he’s in and out of me with ease. The fizzy prickle travels along my pussy with every drive of his hips, and feels incredible, like nothing I’ve ever felt before.

Each delicious slide has me tipping my head back, reveling at the sensation of how deep he is at my command. Backing myself down on him, I grind my pussy against him, digging my fingers into the sheets when his cock fills me, a soft electrical impulse from his shaft humming inside of me. “You feel so good, Rip.”

Fingers still curled around the bar, he looks up at me, teeth gritting, neck straining. The metal must be conducting electricity, enough of a zap to satisfy his craving for pain. This man is completely at my mercy.

No wonder he loves the control. I could stay here for days with his dick inside of me, grinding myself against him while he looks up at me with that pained expression on his face—the look of sheer want. I sit up from him, doing my best to keep from touching any other part of his body.

He groans as I bounce on his rigid dick, his hips rocking into me. “Fuck, Dylan! I want to touch you.”

“No.” I slow my pace to a teasing grind. “Keep your hands where they are.” The electrical charge in his fingertips will send me over the edge, and I want to keep him as close to the brink as I can.

He snarls and gives one hard thrust that sends a thrill up my spine when he hits something incredibly sensitive.

“Yes! Ah, shit!” I come down on him hard, replicating what he just did, and he catches on, slamming his hips into me. Our bodies slap together with each furious thrust. My breasts take the brunt of each, bouncing hard and fast, and I grip tight to his thighs, holding on for dear life as the sensation heightens.

He’s hit the jackpot somewhere inside of me, and I fall forward, catching myself on the bed. His big hands grip tight to my ass while his dick hammers into me, the tension in my belly tightening into a ball of excitement ready to detonate.

Yes, yes, yes. I climb higher, muscles tighter. Reaching back, I take hold of his balls and squeeze.

“Fuck!” Eyes screwed shut, he grimaces but keeps at it, hips bucking like a mad bull beneath me.

Light explodes behind my closed eyes as warm tingles shoot through my veins. His name echoes inside my head, on repeat, with every skull-shattering throb that beats through me. I grind out the sensation on his dick and open my eyes to see him squinting, teeth clenched as his climax takes over.

His brows kick up to something that looks like surrender, and I fall forward, rolling off to the side of him, watching him as he comes down from the orgasm. The slowing of his breathing and the sleepy contentment on his face make me want to ride him again.

I immediately check his gauze, noting a small bit of blood seeping through. “I shouldn’t have been so rough,” I say remorsefully, tracing the edge of the tape to reinforce the seal.

“You know I don’t do gentle.” His leg hooks around mine and he grabs either side of my face, flipping me beneath him as his mouth crashes against mine. The bruise to my lip aches with his punishing kiss, but I don’t care. The warmth of the orgasm washes the pain, and I melt into him.