𝐒𝐀𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐂 𝐒𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐓

Sneak Peek ⚠️

SNEAK PEEK
- Sadistic Saint -

IF THERE WAS ANYTHING MICHEAL Richardson had regretted in his life was downplaying this obsession Beyonce Knowles had with him. She was everywhere he turned, it was almost as if he couldn't escape her. In his entire 36 years of living, he had never met someone just as sadistic as she was. She had single-handedly ruined his life and the worst part? Her heinous actions and impulsive decisions only pulled him in closer. As fucked up as she was, he was always going to be wrapped around her pretty little finger and there wasn't anything he could do about it.

He peered inside his broken-into home, the sound of the wooden floorboards creaking below him. In front of him was a trail of clothes and he didn't need to be a scientist to figure out it was Beyoncé's. She was here and that was enough to cause his hands to sweat.

He pulled his jacket off which had been soaked due to the storm outside. Just then, he bent down, picking up the red lacy panties that she had left for him.

His eyebrows furrowed together as he fondled the fabric, soon bringing it to his nostrils and breathing in. In that moment, it felt as if an electric spark traveled throughout his body and a low rumble escaped from his chest.

Damn her. Damn her for knowing exactly how to pierce her inhumane claws into his skin and trap him for the rest of eternity.

He cursed under his breath, hiding the panties in his back pocket. His heart began beating rapidly against his chest as he ascended the stairs, suddenly hearing the sound of classical jazz music playing. The hair on the back of his neck stood up as he approached his bedroom, slowly walking inside. The room was lit with dozens of candles and his two windows were wide open, allowing the midnight zephyr to fly against the walls of his home.

He turned his attention to his bathroom where he heard a soft hum. It sounded like it could be in a horror movie and it was enough to send chills down his back. When he entered the bathroom, he finally settled his eyes on her. She had her head leaned back, arms sprayed into both sides of the tub. Bubbly water hid her body from his view but it didn't mean he didn't subconsciously run his tongue across his bottom lip. He wondered if he was going mad. Maybe, if he invited a stranger into his home, they would tell him she was a ghost and this all wasn't real.

He found himself watching her, his lips pressed into a firm line. He couldn't understand the effect she had on him. He was 36 and she was 11 years younger than he was, yet that held no relevance. Her power was enough to bring him down to her knees.

Lightning flashed through the curtains lighting up the side of her face. Beyonce didn't say anything and only ran her fingers through her warm bath water. She lifted one of his bath bombs and ran her eyes all over the object. "You know I don't like it when you avoid me, Micheal."

He had dreamt of her saying his name repeatedly for the past couple of days. It held a spell, he was sure of it because it was the only thing he found himself thinking about. He turned his head further away from her, calling out to God who was the only one witnessing his agony.

"She's still trying to recover from what happened." He finally croaked out. "You can't be here. You need to go."

Upon hearing that sentence, the slight smile on her face weakened and she turned her head to view him. Her blood began to boil, that's why she was waiting so long for him. He was out with her. Beyoncé's eyes darkened. She should have killed her when she had the chance.

"I really tried to stay cool," she sang, trailing one finger on the edge of the bathtub, "but your arrogance disturbed my solitude. Now, I ripped her dress and she's all black and blue. Look what you made me do."

"No. Don't do that." He whispered. She was a siren with a voice that proved to break any walls that he built between them. That was the only explanation, she wasn't human. She was something crafted from the very deepest parts of hell.

Finally, she stood up, allowing the water to cascade down her naked body like a waterfall. He fought his urges to look her away, instead digging into his pocket and pulling out a cigarette. With every step she took towards him, he could feel his hands begin to shake.

"They keep saying I ain't nothing like my father but I'm the furthest thing from choir boys and alters. If you cross me, I'm just like my father. I am colder than titanic waters."

He walked back into the bedroom, suddenly feeling as if he couldn't breathe. He needed to create my space between them, it was the only way he could survive this.

"I sashayed my dress. Did my best impression of a damsel in distress. This alcohol and smell of regret allured my catch. Outfit too small to hide my scars. Feelin' bottled up like bottle service broads. How long can she hold her breath before her death?" She sang softly, running her hands through her drenched hair. Micheal turned to face her, a crease forming in between his eyebrows.

He felt his throat tighten when his eyes traveled down her curvy body. She wore a gold necklace and the pendant fell in between the fullness of her breasts. Her brown nipples were fully erect, practically calling for him to wrap his lips around them. He could feel his cock press up against his pants and his breathing succumbed to an irregular pattern. His body was addicted to her, it was unhealthy. The unlit cigarette fell to the floor and her lips stretched into a smirk. It was only then he saw the knife she held in her hand and his lips parted.

He raised his hands in defense as she strutted over to him, forcing him to walk back until his body hit the wall. She offered him an innocent smile, standing on her tippy toes while holding the sharp knife against his neck. He released a shaky breath feeling the cold metal pressed into his skin.

She closed her eyes, taking in his scent. "I missed you."

She placed her hand on his cheeks and because he was too weak to pull away, he allowed her. Their lips found each other and she wrapped her arms around his neck, flushing his body against her. It seemed like every thought he was fighting against, simply disappeared. She had control, she always knew how to control him.

"Did you miss me?" Beyonce guided him towards the bed and straddled his lap. He felt his throat as he desperately tried to look away from her breasts which she purposely planted right in front of his face.

She kissed him again, grinding her hips against his crotch. He slowly caught up with her, thrusting his tongue into her mouth while holding her gently. This was wrong but holding her felt right in every way possible. His mind was spinning and while he wanted to enjoy this moment, guilt began seeping through his veins. When they broke apart, he looked into her eyes and pulled the knife away from her grasp.

"You know I did," He whispered in defeat. She caressed her hip with her thumb and sighed at the way her body was reacting to her touch. There was no point in fighting, she was going to win. She always did because she never stood a chance. Beyoncé smiled as his hands wrapped themselves around her waist.

And once again, he succumbed to her mercy.