Page 65 of Savage Don's Captive

“Don’t you like reading porn on paper?” My jaw drops, cheeks burning. I do enjoy steamy novels—the filthier the better—but it’s a private indulgence. The fact that he knows this intimate detail about me makes my skin tingle with a dangerous mix of embarrassment and arousal. “Not that there’s anything wrong with that.”

“It’s called smut,” I correct, striving for nonchalance even as my pulse races. The wine is definitely amplifying every sensation, making it hard to remember why I should hate this man rather than fantasize about him. “Do I look like someone who reads smut?”

“You should try it. Might help loosen you up a bit.”

“Jesus Christ,” he mutters. “If you break something in there—”

“I’m not. Relax, okay?”

“There are good ones on the back shelves,” he finally concedes with an audible sigh.

I head to the back, where my eyes catch a gleam of gold—The Lord of the Rings, limited first editions. Their leather spines beckon in the dim light, and I pull them from the shelf withreverent hands. This will keep me occupied, help me forget the man whose space I’m invading.

As I turn to leave, my gaze locks on the swords again. One blade in particular catches the light, its edge promising both danger and seduction. I freeze, drawn by its silent power.

“Can I try one of these swords?” I ask, tilting my head toward the nearest camera.

“No,” he answers too quickly, voice taut with warning. “I’m on my way home, Alessa. If you touch those, I’ll slice your fingers off.”

“Whatever.” But his threat sends a shiver down my spine that isn’t entirely fear.

I stare at the camera again, its obnoxious green light blinking as it tracks my every movement beneath the sheets. Eleven o’clock, and Dominic came home thirty minutes ago. His footsteps echoed down the hall, pausing briefly outside my door before continuing on.

Something inside me deflated when he didn’t knock, didn’t confront me about invading his office. I hadn’t even read the books I’d taken, and once his voice wasn’t filling my ears through the intercom, I missed the banter, the tension, the electricity between us.

Maybe it’s the isolation making me crave human contact, but I want to see him before I sleep. Ask about his meeting—if itconcerned me and my father. Find out if Rosaria is in trouble for helping me.

Who am I kidding? A mocking voice in my head calls me out. You want to see him because your body is on fire, and he’s the only one who’s ever put it out.

My libido has been raging all day, probably because my period is due soon. God, there’s another fun conversation—asking my kidnapper for tampons.

I bite my lower lip, my hands slipping discreetly beneath the duvet. I move carefully, conscious of the watching camera, as my fingers slide under the waistband of my silk pajama shorts.

My legs jerk when I find my sensitive clit. How long has it been since I had sex? Weeks? Months? Work usually keeps me too busy for hookups, but captivity has given me nothing but time to feel the ache between my thighs.

My breath catches as I circle the sensitive bundle of nerves, my body instantly softening with pleasure. I spread my legs wider for better access, feeling wetness gather as I increase the pressure.

I try to conjure memories of past hookups, but like a curse, all I see are Dominic’s dark eyes watching me with that predatory intensity. It’s sick and sad that the best sex of my life was with the man who’s now my captor. After leaving that chateau four years ago, every man since has been disappointing—trying too hard or not trying at all. None came close to Dominic’s perfection.

My fingers slip through gathering slickness as I imagine his tongue teasing me, flicking over spots that make me shake. The fantasy sends liquid heat pooling between my thighs, and I rub faster, breath hitching as tension coils in my belly. Each stroke ignites a wave of pleasure that threatens to consume me whole.

I slide a finger inside my soaking pussy, then another, moving faster as my eyes close. My jaw slackens as I fight to keep silent, knowing the camera captures every shift of my body beneath the sheets.

The thought crosses my mind—Dominic might be watching the feed right now. I should be horrified, disgusted, but instead the idea sets my body ablaze. The wrongness of it, the forbidden thrill of possibly being watched by my captor, only heightens my arousal.

My pussy makes obscene wet sounds as I curl my fingers, thrusting my hips to meet each stroke. I spread my legs wider, biting my lip as I race toward release—

Knock. Knock.

I freeze, eyes flying open as I strain to listen. My heart pounds against my ribs, each beat thundering in my ears.

Knock. Knock.

I yank my hand from my shorts, pressing my thighs together, frustration and panic swirling through me. If I pretend to be asleep, maybe whoever’s there will leave.

“I swear to God, Alessa. If you don’t open this door, I will kick it down.”

Fuck.

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