Deadly Saints [18+]

015: Sweet drops

TRIGGER WARNING: this chapter contains context of abuse. Please read with caution.

|Isadora Xara|

"Kak, chert voz'mi, tebe eto udalos'?" His sexy accent questioned.

(How the fuck did you manage this?)

Each time his speech shifted to his thick Russian accent, my body craved to be devoured by his essence, to completely break under his power.

"I like when you speak in Russian, amps your sex appeal." I added, winking at him.

The overwhelming scent of spice filling my nostrils, his presence meters away from me but the imprint of him lingered within me. At my words, his wicked grin appeared before he crossed the distance.

His muscular figure towering over me, drugging my senses with spiced cigars and whiskey. He didn't waste time, yanking my jaw towards his bearded chin. My vision blinded by those luscious coral wet lips that drank my soul with each kiss, those compelling sapphires making me his puppet.

"Detka, ty by lyubila menya namnogo bol'she, yesli by znala, chto ya mogu s toboy sdelat', zastavit' tebya krischat' moye imya ot udovol'stviya," his fruity voice stated.

(Baby girl, you will love me a whole lot more if you knew the things I could do to you, making you scream my name out in pleasure)

"I don't know what you just said but it sounded so fucking hot." I moaned, smirking at him.

"Vse, chto ya mog s toboy sdelat', slomalo tebya, chto ty ostayesh'sya bezdushnym," he hummed, tracing his index finger along my cheek.

(All the things I could do to you, break you in ways that will leave you soulless)

"I guess you liked the whole wardrobe." He whispered. "You look hot in that skirt."

"I know I am."

He's such a cheeky bastard.

Our lips parted, mesmerized by the previous encounters where they molded perfectly together. Hot whiskey breath fanning me, making my core throb from where his mouth would travel. The silky caramel curls cascading upon his forehead, the itch to run my fingers through them made my palms draw into fists. Those lips, parted and soft. A man so dangerous, had the kiss of an angel.

Drowning teal orbs that spiraled into the depths of the forest, there wasn't just one colour but a blend that brought a true meaning to evil. He is a beast, shedding blood at each step and I couldn't deny that his egregious is compulsive.

"Boss, on nachinayet prosypat'sya," the robotic, raven haired bodyguard announced, drawing me out of those sinful positions.

(Boss, he is starting to wake up)

"Prodolzheniye sleduyet, moy malen'kiy ubiytsa," he smirked, letting his hands fall to his sides.

(To be continued, my little killer)

I tugged on my bottom lip, staring in his direction. The hint of playfulness appeared before his hands significantly resided in his slacks at the sounds of painful groans escaping the traitors chapped lips. I attempted to suppress a moan at the sight of his muscles bulging through his white formal shirt, it clung like second skin and at each moment it flexed, I begged for the material to tear.