Promises and Pomegranates by Sav R. Miller

Releasing my jaw, he skims down the slope of my neck, sinking his teeth
into the base. I draw in a sharp gasp, a burst of red clouding my vision as my
flesh breaks for him.
“Do you?” I grit out, rotating my hips in a slow grind against him, goose
bumps popping up along my arms as I become acutely aware of his arousal.
“It’s the subject of my every goddamn nightmare,” he hisses, shoving his
erection into my stomach, swirling his tongue over the sensitive spot he’s just
made on my neck.
His free hand finds my left breast, plucking at the nipple with ghostlike
strokes, making my back arch as pleasure courses through my veins.
“Every time I close my eyes, I see you. Spread out and bleeding beneath
me, your sweet little pussy weeping, just waiting to get fucked.” He pinches
my nipple, grunting when I let out a soft moan.
I stare at the recess lights in the tray ceiling, trying to ground myself as
they distort my sight, but Kal’s touch demands my attention.
Straightening, he abandons my breast to trail his fingers over the bite
mark on my neck, a heavy look of satisfaction hooding his gaze.
“Would that prove to you that this marriage is real?” he asks, his thumb
smoothing back and forth over my mangled flesh. “If I took you again? Was
the first taste of ruin not enough for you? Do you still crave my darkness,
little one?”
Lust clogs my throat even as he releases me, moving backward. My hand
comes up, rubbing over the now raw area, and he just chuckles to himself,
adjusting the collar of his shirt.
Shame scalds my cheeks, both at the fact that I’m little more than putty to
this man and that he seems to know it, too.
Whatever resistance I might have thought myself capable of when it
comes to my new husband disappears the second he touches me, and it causes
a cramp to flare up in my stomach like a bad omen, warning me of what’s to
come.
Clearing his throat, he moves back through the doorway, gripping the
knob with the same fingers that just held my windpipe beneath them.
“Supper is at eight. I’ll have Marcelline bring you a new phone, and
you’re free to explore the property.” He hesitates for the briefest moment, and
I wonder what he’s thinking.
If he wants me as badly as I want him, or if this is all a game to him. A
means to an end, just like I was to Mateo.