Page 85 of White Noise

I step back, watching her as she slowly slides off the desk, her legs barely supporting her.

I don’t let her recover.

I don’t give her a second to find her footing or her dignity.

As she lies there, limp and twitching on the cold metal of the desk, the room is bathed in a sickly, oppressive violet glow.

The neon lights flicker in sync with the static humming in the walls, casting deep, bruised shadows across her skin.

Around us, the monitors on the desk are a chaotic blur of distorted angles and white noise, reflecting the wreckage of her expression in a dozen different screens.

I reach down and wrap my hand around her throat.

I don't just hold her; I pin her.

I slam her head back against the surface, my fingers digging into the soft tissue of her neck, cutting off the air just enough to make her panic.

Her eyes widen, the pupils blown, her chest heaving in a desperate, jagged rhythm as she claws at my wrist.

She’s fighting for breath, but all she’s getting is the scent of ozone and the oppressive weight of my presence.

With a brutal yank, I haul her lower body up and wrench her legs wide, hoisting her thighs up and over my shoulders, completely exposing her pretty little cunt.

Fuck, she’s a ruin of wetness and flushed skin, her pussy gaping and dripping, still pulsing from the electrical overload I just forced into her.

I rip my cock out—thick, pulsing, and humming with a lethal, vibrating energy, and drive it into her in one violent, singular thrust.

Saga lets out a strangled scream, her back arching off the desk as I bury myself deep inside her.

I don't just fuck her, I fucking invade her.

I am a spike of raw fucking power slamming into her soft, wet heat, and the moment we connect, I let the current snap.

A jagged surge of electricity explodes from my cock directly into her pussywalls.

Slam.

Her entire body locks.

Her eyes roll back into her head, her fingers clawing uselessly at the metal surface of the desk. She isn't just feeling pleasure; she's feeling her nervous system being hijacked.

I am rewriting the code of her body, forcing every muscle to contract, every nerve to fire in a synchronized explosion of agony and ecstasy.

“You aren't a fucking person right now, Saga,” I grunt, my hips slamming into her with a rhythmic, punishing violence.

Slap. Slap. Slap.

The sound of my pelvis hitting her soaking pussy echos around the room. “You’re just a wire. A fucking piece of hardware for me to plug into.”

The room is bathed in that oppressive, sickly violet glow, the neon lights flickering in sync with the static humming in the walls.

Around us, the monitors on the desk are a chaotic blur of distorted angles and white noise, reflecting the wreckage of her expression in a dozen different screens.

I grip her hip with one hand, my fingers bruising her skin, digging in to hold her steady as I hammer into her. Every thrust is accompanied by a fresh pulse of electricity, a rhythmic shock that keeps her trapped in a perpetual state of climax.

She can't even scream anymore; she can only make these broken, wet sobbing sounds, her breath coming in jagged, desperate hitches.

Fuck, I want her to feel it.