Promises and Pomegranates by Sav R. Miller

her bottom lip.
My dick pulses greedily behind my zipper, aching to be set free. I reach
down, keeping my gaze locked with hers, and palm my erection, the heat of it
scorching the base of my hand as I shift in my seat.
I shouldn’t toy with her—I’m barely staving off the temptation as it is.
But for some unknown fucking reason, I just can’t help myself.
“You’re of no use to me dead, little one,” I say, squeezing slightly—not
enough to make much of a difference, but enough that I feel a bead of precum
ooze from the tip, soaking into the fabric of my boxers.
“But you’re not going to sleep with me?”
Horny little bitch. I watch as she flushes, nibbling on her bottom lip, and
wonder if I know what I’ve gotten myself into here. “Not yet.”
“Then… what’s the point? What are you waiting for?” she asks,
squirming in her seat. Pressing her thighs together, she wiggles around, likely
trying to ward off the need swirling between her legs. “Are you not…
interested in me that way anymore?”
Pink stains her cheekbones, embarrassment flushing a path down her
neck, making her look innocent and fragile.
It’s not that I’m not interested, it’s that I’m too interested.
Once we start, I know we won’t be able to stop.
“Don’t worry, my little Persephone,” I say, releasing myself and sucking
in a deep breath, before getting to my feet. “You’ll get fucked. Just not
immediately.”
My cock doesn’t deflate until she averts her stare, her blush darkening.
Brushing my hands over the front of my suit, I extend one out to her,
waiting patiently for her to take it. If she really does hate airplanes, I can’t
imagine dismounting will be particularly easy; it’s a wonder she made it out
of the bedroom at all, since the shift in altitude fucks with even the most
experienced flyer.
She looks at my hand, then back up at me.
I tower over her when she’s standing at full height, my frame slightly
larger than average, but looming over her while she’s eye level with my cock
sends an entirely new sensation pounding through me, heightening the lust
I’m trying to ignore.
“I didn’t want to marry you,” she says, her voice soft and unlike I’ve ever
heard it before.
A lump forms in my throat, making it difficult to breathe. Such a familiar