Page 105 of White Noise

The thought settles somewhere ugly and possessive inside me, and suddenly I know exactly how I want to test it.

I stand at the edge of the bed, motionless, watching the rhythmic rise and fall of her chest.

aga is deep in the grip of sleep, her mouth closed, her combative spirit silenced.

This is the only version of her I truly value.

The one stripped of her defenses, the one who cannot lie to me with her words or fight me with her pride.

Awake, she is a storm of defiance; asleep, she is a map of raw, involuntary data.

I don't touch her yet.

Instead, I focus on the frequency.

I let a low-level current bleed from my skin into the mattress, a subtle, humming vibration that ripples through the fabric and into her unconscious form.

I watch her closely.

Her breathing hitches, a tiny, sharp intake of air that she isn't aware of.

Her pulse, visible in the delicate hollow of her throat, quickens.

The sight of it—the way her nervous system betrays her before her mind even knows I’m in the room—sends a surge of heat straight to my groin.

I reach down and unbutton my jeans, the sound of the metal clicking open loud in the oppressive silence of the room.

I shove the denim low, freeing my cock, which is already rock-hard and throbbing with a violent need.

I wrap my hand around it, the grip tight and possessive, and the first slow, dragging stroke pulls a rough, hungry breath from my lungs.

My eyes never leave her.

I watch her face with a predatory focus, savoring the absolute power of this moment.

She has no fucking idea I’m here.

No idea that I am currently dismantling her defenses while she drifts in the dark.

As my hand moves in a steady stroke, I begin to play with the frequency.

I don't just want her to feel it, I want to manipulate her.

I shift the frequency, dialing the current higher, making it sharper.

Saga’s thighs shift beneath the blankets, her legs rubbing together in a slow, instinctive friction. She isn't waking; she is simply reacting to the stimulus I am feeding her.

I moan softly, my hand moving faster, my grip tightening.

Fuck, the absolute access I have to her right now has my cock pulsing.

I’m getting off to her pretty little body, reading the electrical impulses of her pleasure and fear while she remains a passenger in her own skin.

I vary the signal again, sending a pulsing wave through the bed, and her back arches slightly, a soft, guttural whimper escaping her lips.

Heat builds under my skin until I feel overloaded, current running through me hard enough to make the air around us hum.

I’m done watching from across the room.