Chapter-88: seducing the assassin into playing instead of killing
Because of the allure and charm her smaller fruits appeared as beautiful and shapely melons in his eyes. The pale, pink cherries were taut even in her sleep, little peaks begging for attention. His mouth went dry looking at her beauty.
The ring, he was here for the amethyst ring. His eyes flicked to her hand, resting on the pillow near her face. The deep purple stone glinted dully on her finger that is the target that is the objective of proof of his work.
Well Mohini used a fake one to put it on her finger before sleeping. She has many such things with her and it is high end imitation that is a fake that looks like a real one. Under the allure and charm he cannot tell the difference at this moment even though he is a professional.
It all felt suddenly… distant. A low, possessive growl rumbled in his throat, a sound he barely recognized as his own. The kill could wait. This… this ripe, gorgeous offering… this couldn't be wasted.
He would have his fun first. He always did. He took another step, the old floorboard beneath the rug creaking softly under his weight. On the bed, she stirred. A delicate murmur escaped her lips.
Her long eyelashes fluttered open and she blinked up at him, feigning a dazed confusion that was a masterpiece of performance. She let a tremor infiltrate her voice.
"W-who's there?" she whispered, pulling the sheet up a fraction, a gesture that only served to lift and accentuate the perfect swell of her melons. "Please… you can take all my money. It's in the jar on the shelf. Just… please don't hurt me."
Her voice was a silken hook, settling deep in his gut. He moved closer, looming over the bed, a mountain of muscle and intent. He saw her eyes widen, a convincing show of fear that made his meat rod twitch against the confines of his trousers.
"I don't want your money," he said, his voice a gravelly promise. He reached out, not for the ring, but to caress the curve of her cheek with the back of his knuckles. Her skin was impossibly warm, impossibly soft.
"But I want you. Let's have some fun first." He expected resistance… A struggle… Tears… But all he got is a shuddering, hesitant sigh. She let her eyes fall shut, as if in resigned to letting him have his fun.
"Just… just don't kill me…" she breathed, turning her face into his touch….Timid…. Perfect…. He grinned, a predator certain of his prey. She put a perfect act to lure him into her trap step by step.
He shed his weapons belt, the heavy leather and metal landing on the floor with a decisive thud. His tunic followed. His own chest, a heavily muscled and scarred landscape, was bared to the moonlit room.
He didn't wait, didn't savor the anticipation. He was a man of action. He hooked a finger in the sheet and tugged it down, revealing all of her in one smooth motion.
She made a small, gasping sound and instinctively brought her arms up to cover herself, a movement that pushed her fruits together, creating a delectable valley that made his mouth water.
He caught her wrists in one of his large hands, pinning them gently but firmly above her head on the pillow. The amethyst ring pressed against his palm… but he thought of it for Later. "None of that," he murmured, his free hand descending to her chest.
He palmed one melon, his calloused rough skin a stark contrast to her velvety softness. He weighed it, cupping its perfect fullness. They are so ripe…. His thumb swept over the cherry and her body arched off the bed with a sharp, broken cry of pleasure. "Ah! Mmmph…!"
The sound went straight to his meat rod. He did it again, circling the tight nub, reveling in the way it pebbled into an even harder peak under his ministrations. He bent his head, his breath hot on her skin. "Such pretty little fruits,"
He growled before closing his lips over the other cherry. Glrk…. The damp, sucking sound was lewd and perfect. He licked her with his tongue, circling, teasing, then sucking hard, drawing a deep, wanton moan from her throat.
Her back arched again, pressing her flesh more firmly into his mouth. Her hips gave a helpless little squirm against the mattress. He switched his attention, lavishing the same rough worship on the other melon, biting gently, sucking until a faint pink bloom appeared on the pale skin.
Her moans were constant now, a soft, melodic soundtrack to his exploration. He released her wrists, and her hands flew to his hair, not to push him away, but to clutch at his scalp, holding him to her.
He moved down her body, his lips and tongue charting a course over the quivering plane of her stomach, the delicate ridges of her ribs. He nipped at the soft skin of her inner thigh, and she jolted, a high-pitched whimper escaping her.
"Please…" she moaned, the word dripping with faux helplessness.
"Please what?" he rumbled against her thigh, his breath ghosting over her core. He didn't wait for an answer. He hooked her legs over his shoulders, spreading her wide open for his inspection and what a sight it was.
Her lower mouth was completely bare, smooth and pink and already glistening with her arousal. The scent of her, pure jasmine and heady musk, flooded his senses, intoxicating him. He buried his face between her legs without preamble. Splorch... Lllck...
His tongue, broad and ruthless, licked a thick stripe from her entrance to her clit. She screamed with a raw, unfiltered sound of shock that dissolved into a guttural groan. Her hands scrabbled at the sheets, fisting the fabric.
"G-gods…! Mmmnfph…! Yes! Right there…!" He ate her like a starved man. His tongue plunged inside her, f*cking her with short, hard strokes. Splurt... Glrk... The damp, messy sounds filled the room.
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