Chapter 197. A Dark Knight

I did sleep, and it wasn’t from exhaustion, or compliance with Mr Biker-Dom, but his fingers. 

His fingers sent me into a deep sleep despite the tempest surrounding us, charged with his silence, and my dissatisfaction and anxiety over that silence. 

But I guess the human body only understands logic. 

He was the same man who had me wet, dripping and aching for him after wrestling me down in my aunt's garage. So it was no surprise that he had me writhing and moaning after a couple of wet strokes with his fingers between my legs, while still maintaining that silence behind me, his nose in my hair. 

When I woke up, it was several hours later, my body listless, my lungs filled with a delicious smell from somewhere in the room.

I rolled over on the bed, and found him sitting on a couch, puffing a large cigar, his eyes burning into me.

He flicked his head to my right, and I turned to find a tray with elegant porcelain dishes, layered in perf