"𝐑𝐞𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭 𝐦𝐞, 𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐤, 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐥𝐥 𝐛𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐠𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐠."
── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──
𝐍𝐚𝐨𝐦𝐢 𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐬 - A twenty-year-old woman with goals and ambitions working in the mafia. She's got people she dislikes but no...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
I poured myself a glass of water and sat down at the breakfast counter. Things were starting to speed back up again since my injury. It's been a few weeks since then and I've been feeling better than ever.
Charles contacted me on a bunch of emails he had sent to me. They were all about the family of Ivan Orlov since it's quite difficult to get to the source himself.
A few minutes into my reading, I pushed up my glasses and looked over at the front door opening. Some seconds later I saw a familiar man with dark hair walking into the kitchen. His eyes immediately darted to mine and he walked around the counter and up to me.
"Hey baby, how are you feeling?" The nickname brought butterflies to my stomach as he bent down to lift my chin. His lips lingered around mine for a second when he pressed them together, engulfing me in his sacred taste.
I hummed as he pulled away, "Charles sends a shit-ton of emails so I'm just checking those out." I point to the laptop sitting in front of me.
He chuckled, "I asked you how you're feeling. Not what you're doing." He lightly implied, brushing a few of the loose trans of my hair back into its desired bun.
I look up at him and grab his cheek. I use the tip of my red-painted nails to trace the little details on his face. My eyes dart into his emerald ones and I take in his entire face, "you're very pretty."
The moment the complement spills from my tongue, Damien's cheek turns into a rose pink colour. Indicating the blush rising to the surface of his skin.
He clears his throat, "I'd say the same about you, my love." He then straightens up and kisses me again, "how are you feeling?"
I let go of his cheek, "I'm really good. You can stop asking me about my feelings before I get mad."
His free hand snakes its way to my waist, firmly grabbing it as he smashes his lips onto my own. Our tongues dance together for a brief moment before he pulls away and plants one more kiss on my forehead. He smiles, "fine, I'll be in my office if you need anything."
I need you to fuck me. That is what I wanted to say but I figured that was over the top. I was missing the way Damien would roam his fingers around my skin. This strive for it was stronger than usual.
I found myself standing up and closing my laptop, turning the corner to Damien's office. I stood in front of his door for some seconds contemplating whether I should go in or not.
I opened the door and spotted Damien writing a few things down. He looked up at me and immediately slouched back, watching me intently. "Are you okay?"
