Page 44 of Safe Word

Stupid fuck. That was what I was.

I thought I could outlast her, but by three in the morning, it’d been obvious that Scarlett had wrung me dry. My body was heavy with exhaustion, and I surrendered to sleep.

As I lay in my bed, I was surprised that Paula had overshadowed my masked beauty that night – not even an hour after I’d fucked Scarlett’s mouth. I thought she’d drained me. Thought I’d been left thoroughly satisfied by her lips, her moans, and the hard lines of her Venetian mask pressing into my thighs.

But as I watched Paula write, as the screen flooded with dark sensuality, I realised I wasn’t. Not even close.

Her words had poured straight into me, weaving one depraved idea after another; each scenario hotter and more twisted than the last. She wrote the part where Damien bent Chloe to his will with such vivid, agonising perfection and cruelty. And it made me feel almost inadequate.

It wasn’t just her imagination; it was her execution. Her descriptions were electric, her writing style visceral. It hit me so low I felt stupid.

I gave in to desire – again. Not to Scarlett. But to Paula. That rattled me more than the act. She wasn’t mine. And she never would be. The line between Scarlett’s red-painted lips and Paula’s relentless creativity was blurring, and I found myself questioning everything.

By the time I woke, the morning streamed through the blinds like penance. It was no surprise she hadn’t been in the office on time. Our Damien and Chloe had clearly kept her company throughout the night, their story taking her far past any reasonable hour.

If she’d just owned up to it, I might’ve admired her dedication.

But it wasn’t the lateness that grated on me. It was the lie.

There had never been a line at Giuliano’s, and we both knew it. The predator and the dominant in me wanted to call her out, to push until she cracked. To see what excuses she’d fumble through, and what truths she’d eventually spill. But the human in me – the part that craved stability and control, not chaos – held me back. Barely.

So I chose restraint. I let it slide.

Her shoulders eased the moment I praised her work, and I could see the tension melting away. Hope sparked in her eyes, as though she thought I might press on.

But I didn’t.

I shouldn’t.

Christ… here I was, torn between the phantom of Scarlett and the reality of Paula; between the assistant I shouldn’t ogle and the woman who broke me nice and slow.

It was a line I couldn’t afford to cross, not now when I’d found Scarlett, who completed me so well.

But fuck if last night hadn’t reminded me just how thin that line could be. Changing the package had cost me an extra hundred euros, but it was worth every cent.

Prompted by the restlessness in my chest, I logged into the portal and sent Scarlett a request for tonight. The screen refreshed—

Rejected.

Instant. Clinical.

It hit hard. A dismissal without explanation – or delay.

Just fucking no.

I stared at the screen, teeth grinding, hands curling into fists until my knuckles cracked.

Realising I wasn’t alone in my office, I snuck a glance towards Paula, but the faint smile on her face told me she’d already been immersed in the story.

I ran my fingers first through my hair, then my thoughts through the night like a man retracing his steps at a crime scene, examining every sigh, every shift of her hips, every breath she’d offered up.

She’d enjoyed it all. There had been no fear, no flinching. Only surrender.

She had wanted it. She had wanted me.

This wasn’t regret.

It couldn’t have been.