Promises and Pomegranates by Sav R. Miller

were kids. “Anyway... how’s married life? Figure out where you’re at yet? I
know Mamá is still hell-bent on finding you.”
Feeling uneasy about the way the last subject cut off so quickly, I decide
to ignore it and move on with her; my sisters aren’t the kind of people to keep
quiet about anything, least of all something that would put them in danger.
At least, that’s what I tell myself as I head down the hall to the library,
tucking myself inside while Kal’s at yet another meeting.
Over the last few weeks, we’ve certainly gotten a bit closer—physically,
at least. The man is a statue made of stone, and each time he fucks me, a little
piece of the exterior chisels away. But the fragments are so small, it never
feels as if I’m actually making any progress.
He’s wound tighter than the crank on an old grandfather clock, and every
time we fuck, it’s evident he’s trying to funnel his frustrations directly into
the act.
Not that I’m not enjoying the ride; my body is constantly sore in places I
didn’t even know existed, my mind swept away each night on a tidal wave of
ecstasy. It’s just that the ride is more like a roller coaster, and the theme park
attendant isn’t letting me off.
And the problem is, I want him to open up to me. Since the night of my
attack, I’ve given up on the quest to keep my attraction a secret, and instead
embrace it every chance I get.
Sometimes that’s by milling about in his office, perching on the edge of
his desk while he goes over real estate contracts and malpractice suits—not
his, somehow; instead, he likes to keep up to date on big ones rocking the
medical world, ‘just in case’—and slowly parting my legs until he sees what
I’m offering, and abandons his work to do me instead.
Sometimes it’s by prodding him with a million questions, starting with
unimportant ones until he’s irritated enough to answer what I really want to
know.
Like how he never met his father, and that it wasn’t until after his mother
died that he found out he had siblings.
Or how he grew up impoverished, and it was my father’s help that dug
him out of it.
Whatever the case, I’m working at thawing his icy heart, and each day my
affection for him grows tenfold. Which wouldn’t be a problem, except that
it’s such a stark contrast to how I felt at the start of our union, and it lines up
too perfectly with what Mamá said would eventually happen.