Page 44 of Whispers in the Quarter

I thrust into her hard, burying myself to the hilt in one smooth stroke. We both cry out at the sensation, and for a moment, the world narrows to just this—the exquisite feeling of being joined, of chemistry and biology merging in the most primal way.

But I’m a scientist, after all. And every experiment needs variables.

“You’re going to kill me,” she breathes as I push her closer to the edge.

“Oh no, my dear.” I grin against her mouth, probably looking as mad as I feel. “Death is far too boring. I want to watch you decompose and reconstruct, break apart and reform. Over...” I emphasize with a thrust. “And over...” Another. “And over...”

She comes apart with a cry that mingles beautifully with the beeping monitors. Evidence that life and death, pleasure and pain, sanity and madness—they’re all just different states of the same sublime chemical reaction.

“Beautiful,” I murmur, watching her chest rise and fall with rapid breaths. “Though I believe we need more data points for a proper analysis.”

My hands still shake with manic energy as I lift her from the desk, pinning her against the cold lab wall. Files scatter, papers flutter—evidence of crimes and consequences raining down around us like confetti. The monitors in the other room keep their steady beat, a rhythm to conduct experiments by.

Her legs wrap around me as I thrust into her hot, wet, heat.

Her nails dig into my shoulders as I set a punishing pace, each thrust driving us both closer to the edge of sanity. The wall trembles with the force of our movements, lab equipment rattling ominously on nearby shelves.

“Tell me,” I pant against her neck, “what you’re feeling. Every sensation. Every chemical reaction.”

She laughs, breathless and wild. “Endorphins... serotonin... dopamine... fuck, Lucas, I can’t think when you’re?—”

I angle my hips, hitting that perfect spot that makes her cry out. “Try harder,” I growl. “I need data.”

Her head falls back against the wall with a thud. “Heat... everywhere. Like I’m burning from the inside out. Pressure... building. God, it’s too much, I can’t?—”

“You can,” I insist, one hand leaving her hip to tangle in her hair. I yank her head back, exposing the elegant line of her throat. “And you will. For science.”

My teeth find her pulse point, biting down just shy of breaking skin. She keens, her inner walls clenching around me. So close. We’re both so close to shattering.

“Lucas,” she warns, though her body betrays her, arching into my touch. “We don’t have time?—”

“Time is relative, my dear.”With one hand I grip her throat. “And I’m nowhere near done studying your reactions.”

The lab spins around us, a whirlwind of chemical formulas and forbidden desires. I thrust deeper, harder, chasing that perfect reaction. Evangeline’s nails rake down my back, leaving trails of fire in their wake. The pain only fuels my frenzy.

“More data,” I growl, nipping at her collarbone. My hand on her neck tightens, her wall clenching my cock. “Tell me everything.”

She gasps, struggling to form words as I drive her higher. “Muscles... tensing. Vision... blurring. Oh god, Lucas, I can’t?—”

“You can,” I insist, my grip on her throat tightening just enough to make her pupils dilate further. “What else?”

A particularly loud beep from the other room makes her tense. “What are you really working on in there?”

I silence her question with a kiss that tastes of madness and mercury. “Focus on our current experiment.” My grip tightens on neck, riding that perfect line between control and danger. “I want to see what happens when we push these parameters further.”

Her laugh catches on a moan as I demonstrate exactly what parameters I mean. “You really are insane.”

“Clinically speaking, probably,” I agree, watching with scientific fascination as she writhes against my hold. “But insanity is just genius without restraint. And right now...” I release her neck only to grab her hips hard enough to bruise, “I’m feeling particularly unrestrained.”

The rhythm of the monitors speeds up—both sets, both subjects of my brilliant madness responding so beautifully to stimulus. My Chimera lost in pleasure while my Saint evolves in chemical dreams. The symmetry of it all makes me dizzy with delight.

“Look at me,” I demand, needing to document every micro-expression as she approaches another breaking point. “I want to watch your molecular structure rearrange itself.”

Her eyes meet mine, blown wide with a mixture of desire and something like fear. Perfect. The most fascinating reactions always occur under pressure, after all.

“My perfect catalyst,” I breathe against her neck, riding the wave of brilliant chaos as monitors beep and papers scatter. “The way you transform under proper stimulus...”

Her nails dig into my shoulders as I push us both toward that exquisite edge where genius meets madness. In the other room, the readings spike—both my experiments reaching critical mass at once.

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