Page 5 of Savage Don's Captive

The elevator doors open, saving him from answering.

At the top floor, reality tightens its grip. Dom leads me down the hall, his stride unhurried, unlocks the door at the end of the corridor, and steps inside first. He doesn’t turn to check if I’ll follow. He already knows I will.

The door clicks shut behind me. Final.

“Last chance.” His voice is smooth, but beneath it lurks something darker. “Once that mask comes off, there’s no going back.”

The weight of the moment presses into my spine. My fingers find the silk ribbons at my temple. The mask slips away—the gold catching the light before disappearing into the dark.

Dom turns, and the hunger in his eyes steals my breath.

“Who says I want to go back?”

Slowly, he removes his own mask, and the second his eyes meet mine, my breath snags.

He’s beautiful in the way Renaissance painters imagined Lucifer—sharp angles, dangerous perfection. A face meant to be worshiped and feared.

“Surprised?” His smirk is slow, indulgent.

“You’re not what I expected.”

“No?” He steps closer, measured, predatory. “What did you expect?”

“Someone…” My back meets the wall, breath uneven. “Older. Less—”

“Less what?” His hand braces beside my head, caging me in. I hesitate, pulse hammering. “Less…danger-”

His mouth claims mine, knocking the breath out of me before I finish answering—hot, hungry, unstoppable. I gasp, and he takes full advantage, sliding his tongue deep, tasting, teasing, taking.All heat and demand, until I’m melting into him, lost in the way he devours me—like he’ll never get enough.

I press closer, chasing every possessive stroke of his tongue, leaving me breathless, trembling—aching for more.

“Wait,” I manage, breaking away just enough to breathe. He lets me go. Barely. His fingers trail down my arm, a featherlight contrast to the restraint in his posture.

“Cold feet?” he taunts, but his voice is hoarse.

I shake my head, even as heat coils low in my stomach. “No. Just…” I swallow. “Are you always like this?”

“Like what?”

“Like you’re deciding whether to devour or destroy me.”

His thumb brushes my bottom lip, his touch lingering just a moment too long. A slow, wicked smile spreads across his face. “Who says I can’t do both?”

His finger slips beneath the strap of my dress, dragging it slowly down my shoulder. The silk slides to the floor in a whisper, pooling at my feet. He doesn’t flinch—he just watches, dark and unreadable, like he’s memorizing the moment before he wrecks it.

His gaze drags over the dip of my waist, the curve of my thighs—parts of me that have always felt like too much in the wronghands. He moves with infuriating patience….he doesn’t rush—just makes me want to give.

My hands shake as I push his shirt open, revealing inked skin and scars that tell stories he doesn’t. His chest is broad, muscles stretching across with a raw power that makes my mouth go dry.

I slide my fingers to his belt, tugging it open—the sound of the buckle makes my heart skip.The tension thick between us as I drag his zipper down slowly and push his pants over his hips.

His cock springs free.

Geezuz… My heart stops—body freezing as I take in how huge he is—thick, long, and curved—begging for attention. I swallow hard, feeling a pulse of heat low in my stomach.

“See something you likePiccola?” he says, curling his lips.

“You’ll do.” I tease, flicking my eyes at him as the back of my knees hit the bed.

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