The atmosphere in the studio had reached a fever pitch, a state of near combustion where the air itself felt heavy and charged with electricity. Ellie was no longer just a woman; she was a living, breathing nerve ending, a creature of pure, unbridled sensation.
Her screams had transitioned from melodic to primal, a series of jagged, high-pitched shrieks that tore through the air.
"AAAAHHHH! OH GOD! MIKE! IT'S COMING! IT'S COMING! IT'S RIGHT THERE! AHHHHH! AHHHHHH!"
Her body was a frantic mess of motion, her hips lashing against his hands with a violent, desperate rhythm. Her eyes were rolled so far back that only the whites were visible, and her entire frame was vibrating with the force of the impending explosion.
She was right on the precipice, the tension in her muscles so great she looked like she might shatter into a thousand pieces.
Mike saw it. He saw the exact moment her consciousness began to fracture, the moment her control snapped.
