Page 9 of Dark Knight

I whined as I moved over his fingers, and he grinned. "I'll keep pleasing you, don't worry." With that reassurance, I did as he asked and laid down, spread wide on the seat. His gaze devoured me, lingering on the pink tips of my nipples before locking onto my core.

He kneeled down next to the seat and put one of my legs over his shoulder before he leaned in to taste me. A groan of satisfaction went through him. "Strawberries and sunshine, that's what you remind me of," he murmured against me, and the vibration of his voice almost sent me over the edge.

With no more preamble, he thrust two fingers into me while he flicked his tongue over my clit. The sensations were more than a little intense, and soon, I found myself grabbing his hair and trying to ride him from underneath.

Moans and sighs fell from my lips like the first snow after a brutal summer. His touch was fire, heating me up until I was feverish for him and couldn't think about anything else.

The orgasm took me by surprise, and I almost bucked him off completely. He kept working me, wringing out every ounce of pleasure that he could.

I felt like I'd been washed and wrung out, my whole body tingling with pleasure and my pussy pulsing around his fingers which still slowly stroked in and out of me. I didn't want the pleasure to end, but I wasn't sure I could even handle another orgasm if it was as powerful as the one I'd just experienced.

Even though I knew I wanted more, and wanted to give him the same pleasure he'd given me, I suddenly felt weaker than I had since Sampson first took me. My limbs were heavy and movement seemed impossible even though I heard Dylan calling my name. I wanted to respond, but there was no energy left in me to do so.

It was dangerous to leave myself exposed like this, I knew that. I mean, I was naked in the back seat of a man's car after he'd just blown my mind, but that didn't mean he was trustworthy or wouldn't do something inappropriate. I couldn't deny that I felt safe around Dylan, though, and it was that thought that had me surrendering to the darkness that hovered around the edges of my vision.

My only hope was that when I woke up I wasn't chained up again.

6

Evie

I woke up with my heart pounding in my chest. A dream. It couldn't have all been a dream, could it?

Relief washed over me as I pulled the blanket tighter around me, the soft fabric slipping through my fingers.

It wasn't a dream.

There was no way I would have been able to afford sheets or quilts this nice.

I cracked my eyes open to figure out where I was, and suddenly everything came rushing back. I was at Dylan's house. He'd carried me up to bed after I passed out in the car, which was, of course, after he had given me an orgasm so magnificent I saw stars.

Horror washed over me as I realized everything that had happened. I had promised him anything if he saved me, but looking at the luxury around me, I realized that I might have overreached.

If this was a guest room, then who knows what his actual room looked like?

Huge windows made up most of one wall. Sheer curtains fluttered next to them in the draught from the air conditioning. The room itself was decorated in muted colors, and some nondescript artwork hung on the walls, but the star of the show was the bed I was in.

It was a four-poster bed with intricate details carved on the posts. It made me feel like a princess from a fairy tale.

It wasn't just the windows and the furniture that gave away the opulence, though. It was the height of the ceilings. They had to be over twelve feet tall. Decorative scrolling woodwork ran around the edge of the room, giving it a slightly old world feel. I almost felt overexposed after spending so long in a basement room in the dark.

I lifted the covers and glanced down. I was still in the suit jacket that the three men used to cover me when I first ran into them. Part of me appreciated that they hadn't dressed me without my permission, but I also wished I had something more substantial to cover myself before I figured out what the hell I was going to do.

My only hope was that one of the two doors I could see splitting off from the room led to a bathroom. As silently as possible, I moved the comforter and sheets from my body and crept out of bed. I slinked across the floor, begging for none of the floorboards to squeak under my weight.

I eased the first handle down and opened the door. A hallway lay before me. As much as I knew I could probably make a run for it, I didn't want to be chased by Dylan or throw what he had done for me back in his face. I closed the door just as silently and opened the second.

As I suspected, an en suite bathroom was there. It was all marble and stone with chrome fittings shining in the light that turned on as I opened the door. The soft scent of lavender hit my nose first, and I saw some clothes sitting on the counter next to the sink with a note that simply said, For when you wake.

I was surprised that the clothing was left in the bathroom and not in the main bedroom, since that was where I'd see them first, but I was beyond grateful for the fact that there were clothes left for me at all. As I moved some of the fabric around, I silently rejoiced as it appeared that one item of clothing might have been leggings or, at the very least, pants of some kind.

After I took care of my necessary morning business, I washed in the sink, making a bit of a mess as I splashed water all over the place to try and clean as much of my body as I could. The truth was that I didn't trust anyone or anything enough right now to be completely helpless under a shower. That being said, I also refused to be dirty for any longer than absolutely necessary.

Even though I'd washed before Sampson took me to the auction, it wasn't enough. The soap in this bathroom was so much nicer. It was creamy, and I realized it was part of what was giving off the lavender scent. Once I felt clean enough, I dried off as quickly as possible before pulling on the clothes that were waiting for me.

For the first time since I had been taken, I was able to look at myself in a mirror. I had lost weight, which wasn't a surprise given the fact that Sampson barely fed me. My cheeks were slightly gaunt and my skin looked dry, which was probably because I was dehydrated. My hair appeared just as neglected as the rest of me, looking dry and brittle, not the spun gold that it usually was–or at least that it had been since I'd been living on my own.

I half expected the clothes to hang off of me, but they didn't. Even in my half-starved state, I still had some of my curves. Sure, I’d lost some of the roundness I had before, but it wasn't enough to make clothes sit too differently. Dylan must have a good eye for size as well, based on how close these clothes were to fitting me.

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