Chapter 14 #2
His hand rests firmly along my thigh. Pressing against the fabric of my skirt, his fingers tap out a rhythm, matching the rising notes.
“Counting isn’t just compulsion,” he murmurs, “it’s entrainment.
Beats naturally synchronizing when close enough.
Orbiting stars pulsing in time, two heartbeats aligning.
Pulses matching.” His smooth timbre induces a shiver.
“One rhythm captures the other until both move as one.”
Each beat is a painful plea for air. But after a moment, I’m able to model my breath to his, breathing with his count.
“That’s my girl.” His chest expands with a deep inhale. The hard lines of his muscles press along my back, encouraging my next shallow breath. As he exhales, his fingers drum a steady beat against my thigh.
“That’s it. Breathe with me, baby,” he commands, tender. “In for four…hold two…out four. Lock onto my rhythm.”
Supporting my weight, he hums, inducing a low current that arcs between our bodies. “One breath at a time. One beat.”
As I strain to match him, letting his cadence draw mine, I sync my broken breath to the force of his. My pulse aligns beat by beat—and his strong, rhythmic heartbeat at my spine claims my pulse.
“That’s it,” he whispers, a desperate edge threaded through his praise. “God, that’s perfect. You’re fucking perfect, Collins.”
The reverence in his deep voice unfurls a hot ache of desire low in my belly, stoked by the subtle, controlled shift of his hips against mine.
As the music builds, a rising tide sweeps through my cells. And I’m being dragged below, into some euphoric surrender. Piano chords flow like currents in the deep, caressing through muscle and bone, these stirring notes that whisper of roaring waves and night, of Orion’s violent, turbulent nature.
“Are you with me?” The rough timbre of his demand drags like friction over my skin.
“Yes,” I breathe out.
“Good.” His voice drops to a gritty rasp, fingers never faltering their count. “Because fuck, angel—I’m seconds from losing my mind.”
His heartbeat is a soothing percussion at my spine, timed to the crashing pulses from the speaker. The heated brush of his breath steals along the sensitive slope of my shoulder, and I shiver at the intimate caress.
“I know exactly what you need,” he murmurs. “I want to hear you shatter, baby. You have to trust me.”
Before I can reason, his hips press me hard into the vibrating speaker, holding me immobile between his unyielding body and the penetrating wave of sound. With slow, controlled thrusts, he rocks against me, each movement timed to the press of his fingers against my thigh.
He sets an infuriating pace. The grind of his erection against my backside is torturous, each tantalizing lick of friction teasing me apart.
“Oh, god…Orion.” I can’t move—caught between the abrasive rub of his body and the relentless pulse of the music. His hips continue to push into mine with a maddeningly slow, possessive prod that hits each beat.
His tie anchors at my throat, held with just enough tension to heighten every sensation, amplify every cascading pulse through me. The restraint I feel trembling through the silk blades does something devastating to my heart.
With a final rock of his hips into mine, he traps me against the mesh, where the endless rise of bursting sound creates a wall of intense bass hits.
A euphoria infuses my cells, giving my body no choice but to surrender to the rush. Tendrils of desire curl through me as his body crushes against mine with a solid, comforting weight.
Flames lick low between my thighs. A penetrating throb hits deep in my core, the ache so consuming, I start to break before the climax even rips through me.
A fever burns through my flesh as I needily grind back against him. I’m tethered to the steady rhythm of his fingers, to the slight, evocative thrust of his hips, as mine cant reflexively into the solid length of him behind me.
Orion groans, low and tortured. “Jesus—fuck, Collins.” My name gritted through the fury of his need sends a shot of arousal into my system.
The feel of him pressed against me, the undeniable proof of how close he is to shattering his ruthless control, ignites a primal hunger. A violent tremble grips me as I gasp for air, my lungs just as starved for that sweet relief.
The moment Orion loosens the tie, my orgasm crashes with breathtaking intensity.
“Oh. Fucking. God.” I toss my head back as pleasure overtakes me.
Orion’s body bands tight around mine, holding me immobile against him as I fall apart.
The climax spirals through me so intensely, I hear as much as feel the last violent pound of bass.
The punch of the final note rocks through my bones, rhythmic aftershocks flutter over my nerves.
Then I’m suddenly weightless, adrift in an ocean of sensation. The canvas disappears, the dirt with it, leaving only soft waves licking over my skin.
The sparking vibrations slowly fade, leaving us in a charged silence broken only by the labored sound of our breath. I push back slightly, just enough to feel the hard length of him—still erect.
“Don’t move,” he says, issued in a low, guttural warning.
My breath catches, and I hold still, my exposed skin drinking the cool air, my neck throbbing with the lingering leash of the tie. I lick my lips, tasting salt, and I remove a shaky hand from the speaker and wipe numb fingers across my cheek, smearing the trace of tears over my damp skin.
Orion’s strained breaths slow, his body gradually relaxing around mine. As he lowers his leg to release me, my thighs come together, and I’m unable to suppress the quiet moan at the tender ache.
“Fuck,” he mutters, muscles racked with shivers as he draws away. His warmth vanishes instantly, leaving a chill in his place.
The dome shutter begins to groan open. Faint starlight filters into the observatory. Harsh reality creeps back, driving all that was depraved and sacred into the shadows once more.
In a panicked rush, I tug my blouse closed and quickly fasten the buttons. “I assume this wasn’t what you intended when you composed your music,” I say to break a layer of tension.
His rough chuckle thrums across my sensitized nerves, provoking a low flutter in my belly, yet it sounds forced.
I sense his proximity like a sparking current, raising fine hairs along my skin. I turn to face him, and he’s now standing beneath the pale ray of moonlight, shirt and gloves back in place.
God, he’s devastating. After everything that transpired between us, I should feel self-conscious, vulnerable. Yet as he prowls closer, all I feel is hunted. Ruined.
Endangered.
He hooks a gloved finger around the center of the tie draping my neck, slipping it free like a ribbon, the silk blades whispering against my damp skin.
Then, stepping close, he says in a low voice, “Completely unintended.” He gathers my hair in one hand, stealing every last bit of my breath as he secures it gently in a ponytail with his tie.
My pulse tangles in my veins as he draws back, just enough to settle his hands at the base of my neck.
His palms roam up the curve of my throat, thumbs gliding over my skin.
And I realize he’s searching for marks, inspecting for damage.
His gloved hands far too gentle where, just moments ago, they strangled with brutal demand.
I swallow, emotion knotted tight beneath my ribs at the feel of his tender evaluation. He notices, tilting his head above me. “But seeing that look on your face right now,” he says, his tone lowering into a rough cadence, “completely intended.”
A fever burns through my skin.
“You’re breathtaking when you’re flushed,” he says, unable to curb the satisfaction in his smirk. It lasts only a flicker before a shadow descends over his features, a hint of anger sharpening his expression.
He halts, his hands folding around my neck possessively. “You had me worried.”
“I’m fine. More than fine,” I assure him, bringing a sinful curl to his mouth. “But you didn’t—”
“I got what I wanted,” he interrupts, answering why he didn’t find release. “Seeing that look on your face—fuck. It’s more than enough.”
A flush forces my gaze to drop, landing at his parted collar, to where the inked script along his neck hints to secrets below. Tentatively, I rest my palm against the solid plane of his chest, fingertips grazing the parted edges of his shirt—a silent dare, a test.
“Stay here while I turn the system off,” he says, his muscles tensing beneath my palm before he steps back. My hand falls away. “Then I’ll walk you to your place.”
I offer a quiet nod. Folding my arms around my waist, I use the few seconds alone to bring out my case and swallow down a pill, then search his private habitat. My gaze drifts over the monitors, the console, looking for a camera. “Should you erase the recorded feed?”
“No cameras here. I don’t trust them. Someone could hack the feed. They’d be fucking stupid to try, but it’s a risk I won’t take. You don’t have to worry about privacy.”
“Good to know.” A gleam catches my eye, my breath snatched by the sight as a trail of dark red streaks down the speaker. The metal mesh is caved in, crushed beneath the violent impact of a fist. The smeared imprint evidence of a losing battle.
Throat raw, I swallow past the ache as I swipe my fingertips through the stained surface. Orion’s blood coats my fingers, and I realize that, to stop himself from hurting me, he caused himself pain.
I look his way, heart twisting at how easily he could’ve unleashed that violence—yet he held back.
I’ve barely scraped the surface of the violence he’s capable of.
He stalks toward me, and whatever was raw and intimate just moments ago is shaved away under sharp moonlight, bringing a weight of reality. I’m left painfully aware of how fragile, how vulnerable I allowed myself to become in his arms.
Gathering courage, I meet the volatile current of his eyes. “You removed your gloves,” I say. “You were close to giving yourself permission to touch me. You wanted to make a connection.”
Something prohibited claims his gaze. “That’s where your analysis is wrong, doctor.” His voice drops into a deep timbre. “I removed them to stop myself from tearing into you. It can never go that far again.”
He cups my face, fingers braced to the nape of my neck as he tips my head back, positioning his mouth near my ear. “I hope you got what you needed, because this won’t happen again, starling.”
“Orion—”
“I hurt you,” he says, voice like gravel as he releases me. “I came damn close to doing worse.”
I draw in a steadying breath. “I trust you.”
“You shouldn’t.” He moves so close I can taste the heady scent of blood on his skin. His thumb traces over my inner wrist, his soft touch in direct contrast to his coarse warning. “Don’t ever let me touch you, Collins.”