In Your Dreams (Falling #4)(48)
“Like, the stock market?” she questions.
I laugh.
“Close. One letter off. D-A-W…it’s for digital audio workstation,” I say. “It’s kind of like what we used in the studio—when I laid down the tracks for your recording?”
She nods.
“I have a lot more going on here, though. It’s sort of a hybrid of a bunch of programs. Houston helped me get it together into something that works for me,” I say, clicking through and opening everything up. “Want to hear a cut?”
She folds her hands around her body and nods, her eyes bright. I pull out the Ratatat song she was listening to with her brother and let it start rolling, setting the intro to loop. Then I break up the beat with some new layers, so the song is recognizable, but unique.
“That’s so unbelievably cool,” she says, her body moving to the rhythm.
I’m about to blow her mind. I’ve had this planned since late last night, and the effect is better than I could have dreamed. I want to see her dance. I wait just long enough, smiling at her and moving my head along with the vibe until I feel it in my gut. There’s always a moment—it’s what makes me good. I’ve had it since the first time I touched a soundboard. I can sense when the craving is at it’s peak, when the room wants more. It’s like a slow-building orgasm, and I bring everyone to the brink, feeling their bodies fall in line with the count, giving their minds over to the melody. This is the high I was talking about, and Murphy—she’s there. Her eyes are shut and her body is moving more than I think she realizes, and it’s the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.
I’m about to be her undoing without even laying a hand on her.
My finger poised over the button, I wait until it’s just right to let the first drop go. I picked Nina Simone, because she’s jazzy—just like Murphy. She’s full of fire; there’s a swagger in her song—the moment her voice breaks through the beat, Murphy knows. Her eyes drag open and her body keeps swaying. Baby grays are looking at me and smiling. Her chest is rising and falling off rhythm even though her body keeps tempo. It’s because I’m in her head now—my song is in her head, and she’s feeling something different, something more.
The break I built is coming up, and I know it—she’ll shiver. I step toward her, letting my headphones slip around my neck. I come closer and watch her for a sign that I shouldn’t move more. She doesn’t stray—she’s drunk in seconds, and she wants me near. The break happens, and her head tilts back as she closes her eyes, and that goddamned perfect neck is exposed and my lips beg to touch it. I don’t, but I linger, letting her feel my breath on her skin, small bumps rising in reaction. Chemistry and biology—beautiful. My nose grazes just below her ear as my hands carefully slide on her body, touching in just the right place above her waist. She doesn’t flinch, because she’s given over to the feeling—the performance of it all. That’s all this ever is. I fill rooms with pheromones and bodies become mine.
Right now, Murphy is completely in my control. My hands urge her to turn, and her body spins slowly, every curve brushing against me until her back is flush with my chest. I drag one hand around her waist and up her spine, my palm flat as it follows the line of her zipper, my thumb feeling the jagged metal and my mind imagining dragging it the opposite way. I shut my own eyes as my hand pushes against her neck and my fingers find her hair, sweeping it up in my hold so my mouth can play against her ear. I bring my fingers down gently, both of us moving together to the sexy beat I built just for her, and I hold my breath as my hand opens wide and splays under her breasts, holding her tight against me.
My thumb close to god, I feel her lungs grow inside her, her breathing deep and desperate. I could take her now, but that…that would be a mistake. I only wanted to get this close—to feel this much. I wanted to see if my powers worked on her as well. They do, but hers have the equal effect on me. My mouth watering and my cock growing hard, my eyelids grow heavy as my self-made rules fight against my desire.
Leaning into her, my lips press against the inside of her neck, marking her with a cool kiss as my tongue takes one, tiny taste of her skin before my mouth finds her ear.
“This is what I do, Murphy. I…can make people…do…whatever…I…want,” I whisper, and her breath falls away entirely, her head dropping back against me, her hands moving to my wrists and holding me with a tight desperation that begs for more.
My eyes close, and I indulge for a few seconds, dragging my hand up her body again, careful not to touch her too intimately, despite how badly my hand wants to go there. I trace her bare shoulder and move to her neck, my thumb running over the zipper that it now considers the enemy. I push her slowly in front of me, giving us just enough space for me to let my head fall against the back of hers so my eyes can rake over the perfect line of her neck one last time. My mouth moves forward, wanting to taste more, but I puff out a breath instead, and let go of her completely, knowing a second longer is the difference between being able to stop.
I kill the sound. An abrupt edge. And Murphy takes a step forward, as if I’ve just released her from a trance. I have. But I can put her back under it any time I want. And I intend to.
Chapter 10
Murphy
I’m stunned.