Promises and Pomegranates by Sav R. Miller

“Kallum...” she chokes out, jutting her hips, pushing herself tighter
against me. “Please.”
Her clit throbs beneath my tongue, and I suckle greedily at the bundle of
nerves like she’s the antidote to a life of misery. Her gyrations send
electricity surging through my veins, and I lap faster, harsher, trying to create
more friction against her.
“Please what?” I ask, without removing myself from her pussy; the words
vibrate against her skin, and she trembles violently, on the precipice of
release.
Shifting my efforts, I angle my tongue slightly and switch to
counterclockwise motions, slowing the speed until she’s tossing her head
back and riding the movements.
Pausing when I don’t hear any words on her part, I raise an eyebrow,
pulling back. She grunts, yanking at my hair, trying to get me to go back in.
“Please what, Elena?” I repeat, my voice thick.
She frowns, her eyebrows knitting together. “You already know what.”
“I want to hear you say it.”
Releasing the stress on my scalp, her fingers go slack, and she glares
down at me. “You’re joking, right?”
“I’d never joke about making you come.” My cock is rock hard just
thinking about it.
“Then why don’t you just do it?”
“I will,” I promise, accenting the word with a puff of air on her clit. She
jolts, fingers repurposing themselves in my roots, throat working over a
swallow. “As soon as you ask me to.”
Gritting her teeth, she flares her nostrils, her brain likely having a difficult
time even trying to process what exactly I’m telling her to do. In any other
situation, she’d probably already have done it, but as she floats in that exotic
limbo state, release just out of reach, obedience is the furthest thing from her
mind.
Still, after a beat, she whimpers in frustration. “Please make me come,
Kallum. I’m begging.”
Before she’s even finished the sentence, I’m shoving back in, spreading
her open with my tongue before driving back up and feasting on her clit. It
swells under my ministrations, pulsing in time with the beat of my heart, and
then finally as I draw figure eights over the hood, she breaks.
Mouth parting on a silent scream, her thighs tighten around my ears. She