Page 66 of Savage Don's Captive

Dominic’s voice penetrates the room, dark and commanding, sending electricity down my spine. The sound alone makes my skin prickle, my already sensitive body responding traitorously. I swallow hard, pushing aside the duvet and forcing myself to stand on shaky legs.

My hand hovers over the doorknob, pulse racing as I consider my options. What will I say? What does he want? What has he seen?

“I can hear you breathing,” he purrs, his voice dripping with dark promise, need saturating every syllable. “I’m not going to ask again. Open the goddamn door.”

I draw a deep, shaky breath, summoning whatever courage I have left. With trembling fingers, I twist the knob and pull it open.

Dominic fills the doorway like a beautiful nightmare. His presence sucks all the oxygen from the room, leaving me lightheaded. He towers over me, frame both intimidating and magnetic. The hungry look in his eyes sends tremors through my body, making my knees weak.

He’s wearing nothing but low-slung gray sweatpants, the thin fabric doing nothing to hide his arousal. My eyes drop tothe impressive bulge before rising to meet his gaze—dark, demanding, and aware of exactly what I’ve been doing.

“Show me your fingers,” he demands.

My breath catches. He knows. He’s been watching. And God help me…it makes me want him more.

Chapter nineteen

Dominic

Shethinksshe’sslick.And damn it, she is. When I tell her to show me her hands, she lifts them slow, trembling, glistening under the hallway light — truth dripping from her fingertips.

She bats those thick lashes at me, playing innocent, but her hard nipples press against silk pajamas and her thick porcelain legs exposed. My cock throbs as she blushes—as if she doesn’t know exactly what she’s doing to me. As if she hasn’t been driving me insane for days.

“What are you doing here?” Her voice is soft as velvet.

Good question, Dominic. What the fuck are you doing outside her door in the middle of the night?

I knew I shouldn’t have checked the camera. I always scan it before bed to ensure she isn’t plotting another escape—but I didn’t expect to find her hands on fingering her pussy, pushing my control to the breaking point.

“You know why I’m here.” I plant my hand on the doorframe above her head, leaning in slowly. Close enough to feel heat radiating from her skin, to smell that intoxicating mix of arousal and vanilla. “The question is, are you going to let me in?”

She drags it out, testing me, daring me. Her throat bobs, those defiant eyes flicking between my mouth and the thin line keeping us apart. My eyes stay locked on hers. I see it—the hesitation slipping, confidence taking its place. She’s already decided—just hasn’t admitted it yet.

Her arousal lingers, sweet and fucking intoxicating... If she wants to be reminded what it means to come undone, I’ll make sure she never forgets. I’m leaving this in her hands. And if she tells me to leave, fine—I’ll handle it in a cold shower.

“I’m waiting, Ale—“

A sharp inhale is all I manage before she launches herself at me. Her arms wrap around my neck, lips crashing against mine with enough force to make me stumble back. But I recover immediately, steadying us both.

And fuck… I’m gone.

The moment her mouth touches mine, something inside me snaps. My restraint. My patience. Every shred of control I’ve maintained.

My cock’s hard as steel against the heat of her body. She presses against me—desperate, reckless, like sanity has abandoned her completely.

“Good fucking girl,” I growl against her lips, tasting her sweet breath, claiming what’s mine.

Her body arches into me, soft curves molding against hard muscle as my hands slide down to grip her thick thighs. I lift her effortlessly. She clutches at me, nails scraping my scalp as she tugs my hair like she’s drowning and I’m her only lifeline.

I carry her into the room, our mouths battling, tongues sliding, her nails digging into my neck. The air between us is scorching, charged with electricity that’s been building since that night four years ago.

The mattress creaks as I drop her, a sharp inhale caught in her throat. Not gentle, but not brutal either—just enough to make her feel the weight of what’s coming.

Her hair spills across the sheets like a wildfire, lips parted, breath hitching. I brace my hands beside her head, caging her in. Her fingers curl into my shirt, yanking me closer.

Our lips crash together again. I drag my teeth across her bottom lip, tasting, teasing, demanding more. Her moan ripples through her body into mine, settling low and tight in my gut.

My palm slides lower, tracing the delicate silk covering curves. I slip my hand inside her waistband, igniting fire along smooth flesh—Christ, she’s dripping. I do it slowly at first—watching her body betray her. Her breath catches as my fingers find her clit—already swollen, begging for attention. She jerks, hips bucking as I roll slow, merciless circles.

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