Chapter 35 Safe
Melissa’s POV
We drove in silence for maybe twenty minutes.
He pulled into an underground garage I didn’t recognize, then took a private elevator that opened straight into an apartment.
It was small compared to the penthouse, but perfect.
Dark wood floors, floor-to-ceiling windows looking over the river, soft gray furniture. One wall was completely covered in framed black-and-white hockey photographs…his own shots, I realized. Everything smelled faintly of cedar and him.
He locked the door behind us. The click echoed.
I stood in the middle of the living room, arms wrapped around myself, still shaking from the inside out.
Gavin shrugged out of his suit jacket, tossed it over a chair.
Then he walked straight to me, cupped my face in both hands, and just looked at me .
Those ice-blue eyes were black in the half-light. They looked like they were burning.
“Tell me again,” he said, his voice so low it vibrated through my ribs. “Tell me what you need.”
My lips parted. But nothing came out.
He waited patiently, tracing my lips with his thumb.
I swallowed. “I need…” My voice cracked. “I need to stop feeling everything. Just for a little while. I need… you to take it from me.”
Something dark and possessive flashed across his face.
His hand lifted, slow enough that I could have stepped back.
I didn’t.
His knuckles brushed my cheek, feather-light, then slid into my hair, his fingers, tightening until my scalp tingled.
He tilted my head back farther.
“Look at me,” he ordered.
I was already looking. I couldn’t have looked away if the building caught fire.
His other hand came up, thumb tracing my bottom lip, pressing just enough to part them.
“You want me to take control?” he asked, deadly quiet.
I nodded, the tiniest movement.
“Say it.”
My voice came out a broken whisper. “Take it. Please.”
His eyes flared.
Then his mouth crashed into mine without warning. He wasn’t even being gentle and I loved it. I didn't need him to be gentle. I needed the fire I saw in him even when he tried to hide it.
He kissed me like he’d been starving for it for years.Like he was trying to punish and save me at the same time.
I made a helpless sound and his tongue swept in, claiming every inch of my mouth.His hand in my hair tightened, angling me exactly how he wanted.The other hand gripped my waist, his fingers digging in hard enough to bruise, and he walked me backward until my spine slammed against the window. I was trapped between them and I never wanted to be free again.
He pulled back just enough to speak against my lips.“You don’t move unless I move you.” He bit my lips lightly. “You don’t breathe unless I let you.” Another bite, harder. “You don’t cum until I say. Understand?”
I whimpered against his mouth. His handsomeness and control made me soaked in seconds.
“Yes.”
He growled, low and filthy, and kissed me again, deeper, dirtier, until my knees buckled.
His thigh shoved between mine, pressing up hard against where I was already soaked.I rocked against it without thinking and he pulled my hair until I stilled.
“Not yet.”
His mouth left mine, dragged down my jaw, my throat. He bit the spot just below my ear, hard, then licked it like an apology.
I was shaking so badly I could barely stand.
He felt it. Of course he did.
Both hands dropped to my thighs, and in one effortless move he lifted me, pinning me to the glass with his hips. My legs wrapped around him on instinct.
I could feel him, hard and huge, pressing exactly where I needed him.
He rolled his hips once, slow, deliberate.I cried out into his mouth.He swallowed the sound and did it again.and again.Until I was sobbing his name against his lips, begging for something I didn’t even have words for.
He tore his mouth away, breathing hard, with his forehead pressed to mine.
“Look at me,” he commanded again.
I forced my eyes open.
His pupils were blown wide, only a thin ring of blue left.
“You are safe here,” he said, voice raw. “You are mine here. Nothing touches you but me. Do you understand?”
Tears slipped down my cheeks. I didn’t even try to stop them.
“Yes,” I whispered. “Only you.”
He made a broken sound, like I’d just handed him my soul.
Then he kissed me again, slower this time, but so deep it felt like he was pulling me apart and putting me back together exactly how he wanted.
And for the first time in twelve years, the screaming in my head went quiet.
He carries me to the bedroom like I’m made of glass and fire at the same time.The second my back hits the mattress he’s on me again, mouth hungry, hands everywhere.My blouse is already ruined; he rips the rest of the buttons open and drags it down my arms, trapping them for a second so I can’t move.
I don’t want to move.
He peels my bra down, not off, just enough to bare my breasts to the cool air.My nipples are already tight, aching.
He looks at them like he’s been dreaming of this exact moment for months.
“Perfect,” he mutters, voice rough.
His big hands cup me, squeezing me with my thumbs flicking over the peaks. I arch my back with a broken moan, with my head pressing back into the pillow.
He pinches hard and rolls them between his fingers, pulling it until the sting shoots straight between my legs. “Gavin, please…”
Another sharp tug and I cry out, high and desperate.He watches my face like he’s memorizing every sound I was making.
Then he lowers his head.
The first hot pull of his mouth on my nipple is almost too much.
He sucks hard, teeth grazing, tongue flicking my nipples, then switches to the other and does it again.
I’m writhing beneath him, with my thighs rubbing together, soaked and empty and aching for more.
His hand slides down my stomach, shoves my skirt up to my waist. Two fingers plunge back inside me without warning.
I scream, back bowing off the bed.
He curls them, stroking that spot over and over while his mouth keeps tormenting my breasts, sucking, biting, soothing with his tongue.Every pull of his lips, every thrust of his fingers winds me tighter and tighter.
“Please, please…”
The word tears out of me on every breath.
His thumb circles my clit and my back bows clear off the bed.
“Gav…fuck…Gavin!”
His full name rips from me like a prayer and a curse.
Gavin, I can’t…please…Gavin…”
Another thrust of his fingers, deeper, and my voice shatters.
“Daddy…”
It slips out raw, involuntary, soaked in tears and need.
He freezes for half a heartbeat, eyes flaring black, then groans like I just snapped the last thread of his control.
“Please, Daddy, I need…”
I’m sobbing it now, wrists twisting in the silk, hips chasing his hand.
“Gavin, please let me cum, please…”
Tears are streaming, my cheeks slick, my lashes clumped.
I don’t care.
I just keep begging, his name over and over like it’s the only word I’ve ever known.
“Gavin… Gavin… Gavin…”
He growls against my skin, pulls his fingers out, and suddenly my wrists are caught in one of his hands above my head.
I didn’t even see him grab the silk tie from the nightstand.
He loops it around my wrists, fast, practiced, knots it to the headboard.
I tug once, and realize I can’t move.
Panic flares for half a second, then his mouth is on mine.
“Safe word is red,” he says against my lips. “Say it and everything stops. Nod if you understand.”
I nod frantically.
He kisses me again, softer this time, then sits back on his heels between my spread thighs.
His palm comes down on the inside of my thigh, sharp, stinging.
I yelp, and jerk against the tie.
Another slap, higher, closer to where I’m dripping for him.
The third one lands right on my clit. I scream, loud, as tears roll down my face.His whole body freezes.
In an instant the predator is gone.
“Melissa.”His voice cracks untying the knot before I can even blink, hands shaking, pulling me up into his arms, cradling me against his chest like I’m something fragile that just shattered.
“Fuck, I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry.”
I’m crying, shaking, but it’s not from pain.
It’s from the sudden rush of feeling safe enough to let go completely, and him catching me the second he thought he went too far.
I clutch his shirt, bury my face in his neck.
“Don’t stop,” I sob. “Please don’t stop. I just… I wasn’t ready for that yet.”
He rocks me, one hand stroking my hair, the other rubbing slow circles on my back.
“Never again,” he swore against my temple. “Never.”
Then he lays me back down, gentler this time, kisses every tear track, every mark he left, murmuring Italian apologies against my skin.
When he finally slides his fingers back inside me, slow and careful, eyes locked on mine asking permission with every stroke, I come undone all over again.
And this time he holds me through every aftershock, whispering over and over:
“I’ve got you, amore mio. Always.”