Page 99 of Safe Word

But I did.

And now, here she was.

Blindfolded – for me.

Legs open – for me.

Glowing – for me.

I adjusted the voice changer strapped tight across my mouth, a black polymer half-mask fitted along my jawline. The modulator inside thrummed softly, primed with hours of D’Angelo’s voice. I’d studied him well, captured every cadence, every breathy pause, every smirk tucked inside a word. It was perfect now. When I spoke, it wouldn’t be me she heard.

But that was okay. For now.

As I approached, the glow of her skin captured my gaze like alabaster anointed in sacred oil. The swell of her breasts, the tiny tremble of her fingers, the glistening between her thighs.

She was trying to stay composed. She thought she was in control. That this was his game.

But she was wrong.

The chair – my chair – was for her. I’d bought it just for this. I’d bargained with the owner of this shithole for privacy and paid dearly for it. I’d polished the straps of the chair, studied hours of her body to memorise the angle her legs parted when she shifted in bed, just to get the fit right.

She was made for this. Made for me.

Every part of her was mine. Her pain. Her fear. Her ache – especially her ache.

I watched her breath catch as she shifted – undoubtedly sensing my presence – and I nearly fucking moaned.

Not yet, not yet, not yet.

I was almost giddy.

I wanted to watch her a moment longer. Let the silence caress her. Let her feel herself being watched and chosen for something beyond this life.

She angled her chin a little.

She was trying to look proud. Even now.

My woman.

My altar. My offering.

My fucking prophecy.

And I? I was everything she’d ever begged the dark to take from her.

Watching her thighs tremble against the stirrups as I tightened the belts, I zeroed in on the muscles twitching as if she were trying not to shiver. The machine hadn’t even been turned on yet, and already she was writhing, wet and open for me.

I was about to come in my goddamn trousers.

Then, anxious, she whispered it again, ‘Green.’

The word slid past her lips like sin.

A permission. A plea.

My cock stirred, straining against my zipper.

I closed my eyes.