Page 84 of Savage Don's Captive

“Did he say why?” she asks as I tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. She leans into my touch, her eyes soft in a way that makes my chest tighten.

“Not our problem,” I say, tracing the curve of her cheek. “In fact, how about we forget all our problems for a while? Forget the Commission. Marco. Raffy. All the shit from today. Just until you’re fully recovered.”

“Playing hooky?”

“How does that sound?”

“Hmm,” she hums. “I quite like it.”

For the first time, I consider locking us away somewhere—turning off my phone, barricading the door, letting the world burn outside. No obligations, no pressure. Just her and me. It’s the first time my mind strays from the path I’ve killed for. Since I was a kid with my father’s blood still warm on my face, I’ve had one goa— become made, rise through the ranks, eventually take my seat as Don. I’ve sacrificed everything to deserve to be in line for my button—family, friendships, a normal fucking existence. Now I’m looking at Alessa and wondering what life might be likeif I walked away from it all. A life where I check for threats out of habit, not necessity. A life where I’m not constantly calculating which capo might be plotting against me, which soldier is ready to put a bullet in my skull for a chance at my position. It’s a dangerous thought—more dangerous than any hit I’ve ordered.

“Perfetto,” I say, stroking her cheek. “Let’s go.”

“Oh, cristo santo,” I groan as I gather Alessa’s hair in my fist, watching my cock disappear between her lips. I brace against the shower wall, water cascading over us both as she kneels on the tile floor, looking up through wet lashes.

She’s gloriously naked, on her knees where I like her best. Though, if I’m honest, Alessa without clothes is always my favorite view, regardless of position.

It’s been a week and a half since she left the hospital. Ten days of pretending our problems don’t exist. Ten days of ignoring calls, postponing updates from TJ and my brothers. Ten days of skin against skin and making her come until she can’t remember her own name. Ten days of having Alessa all to myself. I never want it to end.

“You’re gonna make me come again,tesoro,” I grunt as her tongue swirls around my length, her throat tightening aroundthe tip. Her hand cups my balls while the other grips my ass, pulling me deeper into her mouth.

This woman doesn’t quit. I’ve never lost control like this—not with anyone. In my world, control is survival, but with her mouth on me like this, I’m fighting a losing battle. Four rounds in and my legs are shaking, my body raw and oversensitive, but I still want more. She’s dismantling me piece by piece, finding weaknesses I didn’t know existed. If my enemies could see the great Dominic Gianelli right now, they’d put a bullet in my head while I’m too fucked up to notice.

My toes curl against the tile as the sensation builds, my body overrun from hours of this. For the first time, I let myself lose control completely, whimpering and shuddering against her mouth like some virgin kid. And it’s the hottest fucking thing.

“You look so good like this.” Alessa pulls back, her lips swollen from sucking me for the past hour. She strokes my cock with both hands, spitting on the tip for more lubrication. What’s even hotter? She’s kneeling there with my earlier load still running down her thighs.

“Your mouth is fucking perfect,bella,” I whisper, swiping my thumb across the corner of her lips. “You can talk shit to me all day as long as I get to fuck you in this mou—”

My phone interrupts, its ringtone cutting through the steam. It’s TJ’s tone, and despite my explicit orders not to bother me, he still tries once a day, hoping I’ll finally answer.

“You know you should answer that,” Alessa says, flicking her tongue over my tip.

“Forget it,” I demand, growing irritated at the persistent ringing. I keep telling myself one more day in this bubble with Alessa. But days turned into a week, now almost two, and I have zero intention of returning to reality. Alessa seems just as content to stay here. If I ignore the call like all the others, it’ll stop.

“You should get back to work,” she whispers, but her actions contradict her words as she takes me fully into her mouth again, her hand slipping between her own legs.

“Porca Miseria, Alessa.”

The phone keeps ringing. It stops briefly, then starts again. And again. And again. It won’t quit, but neither will I. TJ can go fuck himself—I’m occupied.

“I’m close, baby,” I groan, my knees actually buckling. A first for me. Alessa doesn’t slow down—if anything, she works harder, sucking like her life depends on it, hands twisting around my shaft as she slurps the mixture of cum and saliva. “Faster.”

She hums in response, the vibration nearly finishing me.

I grip her head, guiding her movements. In and out, savoring the approaching load building like a storm. She doesn’t stop as I shudder, cursing and moaning like some submissive bitch, but I don’t care, I empty myself down her throat.

Alessa gags momentarily, then breathes through her nose, gripping my thighs for stability. Like the good girl she is, she swallows everything in one go.

I don’t have time to enjoy the afterglow. My phone rings again, but the tone changes—one I never thought I’d hear. I stiffen immediately, pulling out of Alessa’s mouth. She doesn’t notice at first, rising to her feet and wrapping her arms around my neck. She kisses me deeply, letting me taste myself on her tongue.

I return the kiss, but half my attention is on that ominous ringtone.

“That’s different,” she says against my lips. She’s right. They never call personal phones unless something critical has happened. It’s always business through proper channels—an email, maybe a text on a bad day. “Who is it?”

I swallow hard, frustration and anger simmering below the surface. I hate that this ends our escape, and I hate even more how it’s ending. I pull away, giving her one last peck before stepping out of the shower.

“It’s the Commission,” I answer, reaching for the phone, paradise officially lost.

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