Page 36 of Safe Word

I shifted back on my knees, my breath coming hard and uneven as I allowed myself to drink in her curves from behind. She was ruined – hair tangled, cheeks flushed, lips swollen and parted as she fought to breathe. But even undone, she was a force. Kneeling where I had left her, radiating both submission and defiance, she was every inch the goddess I wanted to worship.

And break.

The temptation to keep going surged. I could’ve taken her further, pushed her to the brink again, shattered her and remade her, but I gritted my teeth and forced myself to step away.

Control.

Control was everything.

The rush under my skin told a different story, but this was about her – about what she needed, what she gave willingly. So she could give me the same.

My balls were about to explode. I couldn’t take it any longer.

I undid the shackles on her wrists with a calculated slowness, then let the leather slide off her knees with soft, taunting whispers. The slight crimson marks on her joints sent a jolt of possessive delight through me.

She sank lower on the bed, her body pliant and exhausted, but there was no mistaking the fire in her gaze.

As I eased her down onto her back, the urge to touch her, to lose myself in her heat, clawed at me. My fingers trailed along her skin, mapping the contours of her body, each touch a battle against my limits.

She trusted me, and I would not betray that.

I reached for the knife at my boot, the motion slow, meant to draw her attention.

Her eyes widened, fear flashing briefly like a spark in the dark, but it didn’t last. Her gaze moved past the blade to my mask, her surrender radiating back at me.

It stole my breath.

My heart thundered, each beat a violent reminder of the sanity I barely clung to. If not for the mask hiding my face, I would’ve turned away, retreated to rebuild my crumbling composure. With her, the line between dominance and indulgence blurred, and I was teetering dangerously close to falling into the seam.

‘Safe word,’ I rasped huskily with the effort of holding back.

‘Green,’ she whispered, her gaze unwavering.

My chest swelled.

I moved, knelt in front of her. Positioned myself between her thighs, spreading her open with the reverence she deserved.

Her dress had ridden all the way up.

I almost cursed.

Not here. Not yet. I would feel her soon. Just not now.

With a newfound resolve to tighten the noose around myself, I said, ‘Eyes on me.’

The order cut through the haze of her pleasure. Her gaze climbed from my length and snapped to my face, obedience immediate, and I saw it again – the shadow of fear when she took in the knife. The sharp edge of terror melted into something darker, more primal. Desire. Pure, unrestrained. And utterly – fucking – addictive.

She skipped a breath as I pressed the flat of the blade against the tender skin of her inner thigh. The contrast of cold steel against her heated flesh sent a visible shudder through her.

My free hand moved to my dick, stroking slowly, my own need driving me to the edge. But it wasn’t enough to distract me from her – her shuddering, her gasps, the way her eyes raked over my mask, my chest and my arms as though I were her entire world.

But then I saw her white knuckles, the flick of her gaze to where I held the knife. She wanted to surrender. Something wouldn’t let her past the fear.

Dropping the knife, I reached for her, and she responded. Our fingers threaded. And I waited, watching her hard swallows taking the panic away little by little.

I held still – gave her space to find steady ground.

Only when her breathing slowed did I let myself believe she was coming back to me.