Power Trip: Double Helix, Book 1 by Miranda Baker

table. Could he hear it too? He must be able to hear it, to feel it. He was the one creating it.
    She flowed with the beat, letting the music take her up and down. If she could have moved, she would have swayed to the irresistible rhythm that begged her to follow it. A teasing buzz between her legs sent her dancing over the edge. Another beat caught her attention as she felt fingers slide in and out of her body, sending her flying toward a second crescendo. She couldn’t move, and yet she was spinning, flying out of control over peak after peak. Her body pulsed in time with the orgasms that shook her inner flesh in an endless symphony of sensation.
    Abruptly, the music stopped.
    She cried out, reaching for more with immobile arms, running with legs held fast. A spasm racked her body, thwarted from reaching its goal. “Shh, wait,” she heard, and realized she was whimpering, sobbing, begging.
    The table shifted beneath her. She felt air swirl between her legs. She tried to remember the sequence of events he had laid out for her. A beating, fingers…tongue, yes.
    She no longer felt music, but her body was still singing. Her vibrator at home could not compare to the warm, wet buzz moving through her core, commanding her attention, claiming her entire being. He suckled gently at her clit and she wished she could see what his mouth looked like against her. He moved faster and she was no longer able to shape a thought except more, more , which he gave her until the sound of her screams eclipsed the hum of her body and she came hard against his mouth, so violently that it felt like her clenching muscles would vibrate hard and fast forever.
    Cool air again. She sensed him moving away from her. A shudder shook her, pinned as she was to the table. She felt as if she were coming out of REM sleep, shuddering with involuntary reaction as aftershocks of energy coursed through her body. She had no control; she was locked in the moment.
    Something pressed against her inner thighs. Then the head of him entered her body. She greeted the music with a scream of rapture.
    He pulled away. “Safeword?”
    What was her safeword? How could she get him to do that again? And again? With profound relief, she remembered.
     
     
    The word was muffled, but she’d said green . A good thing. He was dead level steady after pouring an ungodly amount of electricity into her accommodating body, but he was dying to get inside her. The heart monitor had graphed normal rhythms and the EEG patterns were normal, too, so he’d carried on long past the point he usually stopped with other subs. His whip strikes on her back had started out as a grid, but then he’d filled it in with diagonal lines. The pattern had begun to tessellate and he’d gotten caught up in the ecstasy of her near-constant climaxes until he’d run out of room on her back.
    He pulled his gloves onto his hands. He was pretty certain he was only feeling the natural arousal of a male for a woman, not the unnatural wired-up need to discharge energy, but he still wasn’t taking any chances. He kept his pants between their thighs and only entered her as far as the edge of the condom allowed. He gripped her ass with his gloved hands and worked his cock in and out of her body.
    Again, no dangerous activity on the monitors. She was unbelievable. He settled his feet flat on the floor and surrendered to the white-hot flash of energy barreling up and outward, keeping one eye on the monitors until his vision blurred, blued. He saw sparks and heard thunder. The acrid smell of ozone smoke drifted through the air. His world caught fire, and he let it burn, excruciating. Electric. He was aware, even as his climax exploded through him, that it had never been like this.
    When he could move again, he locked his knees to keep from falling forward onto her body. He took a halting step back and shucked the condom into the trash can. He fastened his pants. Weaving a bit, he grabbed another leather coat from his