Page 73 of Savage Don's Captive

“You like the way I touch you?” His voice, almost a growl.

I can’t speak, my mouth dry, so I nod, not trusting myself to form a coherent sentence.

“You can’t get enough of me, can you?” he murmurs, his fingers moving with precision that has my head spinning.

I shake my head, biting my lip, trying to stop the moans building in my chest.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he says, voice thick with desire, as his lips graze my earlobe. “You’re mine, Alessa.”

My entire body trembles, and I nod, too far gone to lie to myself.

“Say it.”

The words slip out breathlessly, my voice barely a whisper. “I’m yours.”

He smirks, but it’s a challenge in his eyes. “Say it again—louder this time.”

“I’m yours, Dominic,” I manage, my voice a little stronger, a little more sure of itself.

“Hmm,” he hums, his pace picking up, driving me crazy. “One more time. Tell me who this pussy belongs to.”

“This pussy is yours,” I whimper, pushing back against him, feeling the solid length of him pressing into me. “My pussy belongs to—“

The words die on my lips when he slides two fingers inside me, stretching me in ways that make my mind short-circuit. I squirm, the sensations overwhelming, but I can’t pull away. I want more. I crave more.

“Dominic, please,” I gasp, not even sure what I’m begging for. More of him? More of this? For everything outside of this moment to cease to exist?

“Look at you,” he growls, his voice dropping to that dangerous register that vibrates through my bones. “So fucking helpless. So goddamn needy.”

He moves faster, his fingers curling inside me with ruthless intent. His other hand slides up to grip my jaw, forcing me to keep watching our reflection.

“Don’t you dare look away,” he commands. “I want you to see exactly what you are to me.”

The hold isn’t painful, but it’s firm—unyielding. A reminder that even in this intimate moment, he controls everything.

“Ride my hand like a needy fucking slut,” he orders—no question in his tone, just absolute certainty that I’ll obey. And God help me, I do—grinding against him with everything I have, the obscene wet sounds filling the quiet room.

He finds that spot inside me that makes my vision blur, working it relentlessly. I bite my lip so hard I taste blood, trying desperately to stay quiet even as every nerve ending in my body catches fire.

“So. Fucking. Wet.” Each word punctuated by a deeper thrust of his fingers. His face presses against my cheek, but while I’m falling apart, he maintains that terrifying composure—like he could do this for hours, bringing me to the edge over and over until I break completely.

“Who makes you this wet, Alessa?” he demands, his voice still steady despite our synchronized panting.

“You,” I gasp, barely able to form words. “Only you.”

“That’s right,” he says, satisfaction dripping from every syllable. “Nobody else gets to see you like this. Nobody else gets to feel you dripping down their hand.”

His pace quickens deliberately, each stroke hitting deeper, bringing me closer to an edge I’m desperate to fall over. Heat coils tighter inside me, threatening to snap.

“You want to come?” The question is a formality. His smirk tells me he already knows the answer—can feel it in the way my body clenches around his fingers.

“Yes,” I breathe, trembling uncontrollably. “Please. I’m going to com—”

He slows suddenly, his fingers almost withdrawing completely. My body chases the sensation instinctively.

“Not until I say,” he whispers against my ear. The denial makes me whimper pathetically. “Who decides when this pussy lets go, Alessa?”

“You do,” I pant, desperation making my voice crack. “Please, Dominic.”

---