Page 79 of Safe Word

I really did.

I counted backwards. Five. Four. Three—

Her moan shattered my streak.

It was real. Guttural. Choked with pleasure. Not acted. Not manufactured.

Not meant for me.

Something snapped.

I opened my eyes.

He pressed her face into the mattress, knees parted, that silver gleam still buried in her arse like a goddamn crown.

He was pushing into her pussy from behind, slow and deep, the muscles in his back flexing with every thrust. His grip on her hips was merciless, anchoring her like she was his to wreck.

He was twice the size of her but her body took him anyway.

No protest. Just greed. Surrender.

The click of my belt coming undone sent a tremor through my hands.

I wasn’t watching any more. I was consuming.

The way she folded back into him. The tremble in her thighs. The fucking sounds. She whispered his name – Ghost – with reverence. With need.

My palm tightened around my cock as I watched him yank her up by the neck, roll up his mask slightly, and bite her shoulder. Her eyes rolled.

And she looked…

She looked like she didn’t know if she was crying or coming.

I stroked harder. Every wet slap of his thrusts syncing with the speed of my hand.

The plug shifted inside her with every drive of his hips. Her walls were clenching so tight I could see it.

She let him own her, make her kneel – because she wanted to.

I am in control. I am in control, I reiterated inwardly.

I would remember every single moment of this.

The angle of her mouth. The twitch of her thighs. The way her folds stretched.

With a low curse, I punched the button beside the window. The receptionist’s voice crackled through the speaker.

‘Send me the new girl,’ I said in Italian, then killed the line.

My hand never stopped moving. The switchblade in my pocket hummed restless and hungry. It hadn’t tasted anything in days. It ached for sin.

The woman that slipped in moments later was well in her forties. Bare-legged and smeared in last night’s eyeliner. She locked the door behind her, eyes flicking once to the glass, then to the twitching of my hand.

She dropped without a word. Her mouth claimed my shaft effortlessly. Filthily.

But I wasn’t watching her. I was watching Paula.

The arch of her back. The shudder of her legs with each brutal thrust.