Page 101 of Safe Word

Kiss me.

She didn’t know – I wasn’t him.

I dug my fingers into my hair and pulled just enough to feel the sting.

She was blindfolded. Moaning. Split open on a machine I had built with my own hands.

And she wanted a kiss.

My mouth dried under the mask. Something twisted in my gut that ranged from possessive to hungry to afraid.

Confused.

I couldn’t touch her. That had been my rule. My line. Because once I did, there was no pretending this wasn’t a lie.

I stifled a whimper.

Beyond that line laid utter ruin. Monstrous cravings. Unholy thoughts.

But she asked.

She asked.

And those rules meant nothing now. Not when she begged for me. Not when the monster was all she needed.

For a moment, I did nothing.

Let the machine take over. Let her ride it as though she were riding me.

Then her voice broke again. Softer this time.

‘Can I… taste you?’ she whispered, lips parted, head raised towards where she thought he stood, unaware it had been someone else.

God almighty. I couldn’t refuse her.

I stepped forward, my body moving of its own accord.

Her head tilted towards the sound of my feet. She was so fucking close I could smell the salt of her skin, the sweetness of her scent.

My hand hovered near her face. Trembling.

No, a little voice in my head whispered ever so quietly. Not the mouth. Not yet.

I leaned in.

Let my breath fall across her lips, watching her skin pebble along her neck like prayer beads. And then – barely, barely—

I paused. Loomed.

A kiss? From a man?

But I wasn’t a man. Not really.

I was the thing that followed at night.

The shadow in her eye.

The breath on her nape when no one else was there.