Page 10 of Safe Word

The knife paused. For a moment, I wondered if I had crossed some invisible line.

No…

He rose, his frame dominating the space as he brought the weapon to my chin. The knife hovered near my lips, the smooth edge brushing lightly against them – a touch that promised but strangely did not make me feel threatened.

I forgot how to breathe. Time folded in on itself.

‘Good girls get rewards,’ he rumbled, tilting his head, the shadow of the mask obscuring his look but not the intent behind it. ‘And bad girls—’ His voice dipped lower, a tantalising pause. ‘—get exactly what they ask for.’

My throat worked around a swallow.

I didn’t know which he saw me as, and the uncertainty burned through me like fire. But I knew what I wanted, what I needed, even if it defied reason. It was unnatural to want someone this much, this quickly, but it was the naked truth of it. Because I was Scarlet in front of him, a woman stripped of history.

‘Then give me what I need,’ I said, my gaze steadying enough to hold his.

His breathing grew louder, heavier, echoing through the mask as he seemed to teeter on the edge of control.

The knife slid into my mouth, the cold of the steel biting my tongue. I opened instinctively, careful not to let the blade nick me.

I didn’t recoil. I welcomed it – because I had asked for it.

Because he waited.

The knife’s side pressed down, urging me to open my mouth further. The stretch left me feeling utterly exposed. I knew he wouldn’t hurt me – somehow, I knew – but the danger increased every sensation, every second of this wicked ritual.

‘I want those lips around me, little angel. But you are not ready to take me yet,’ he rumbled, leaning closer.

His soapy scent was overwhelming. He was so close I could feel the heat radiating off him, and it made me ache to pull the barrier away, to see him, to feel him.

‘I want to load that mouth,’ he continued. ‘I want to hear you choking on it.’

A moan trembled at the back of my throat, shameless.

The sound seemed to break something in him.

He jolted upright, towering over me, his body tense as he fought himself.

For a moment it felt as though the world had stopped, leaving only us in this suspended moment of need.

With a ragged breath, he stepped back.

The distance felt unbearable, a loss so acute it left me fragmented.

‘You did good, little angel,’ he murmured, his voice gravelly.

Crouching, he reached for the straps that bound me to the chair and loosened the leather. Their absence hit me hard, as though the weight of freedom were heavier than the bindings themselves.

‘No,’ I protested, quicker than intended. ‘We still have half an hour.’

His movements paused, his eyes snapping up to meet mine.

Standing again, he stepped back with care as though the distance was the only thing keeping him in control.

‘It’s enough for our first time,’ he said, his tone even and gentle. The knife in his hand spun once, then slid into the sheath before he tossed it into the open duffel bag. The soft thud of leather against fabric marked the end.

‘Did I do something wrong?’ I asked, rising from the chair and closing the space between us. My steps were hesitant at first, but when he didn’t move, didn’t push me away, I dared to come closer. Close enough that I could feel the heat emanating from hi.

‘No,’ he forced out.