Promises and Pomegranates by Sav R. Miller

then brings my other hand up to his lips.
“You know more than you let on,” he replies, taking my index and middle
fingers and separating them from the rest. Sucking on the two digits, he laves
his tongue over them without breaking eye contact, and it sends a renewed
ripple of awareness through me, making my toes curl of their own accord.
Betraying body syndrome, Mamá once called it. When you’re powerless
to carnality, despite your mind knowing better. She’d been trying to comfort
me before my wedding to Mateo, saying that as long as he made it good for
me, my body would learn to enjoy it.
The mind, she mused, was a different battlefield entirely, but one she
swore could eventually be conquered, citing her own success in the matter.
Problem was, I already knew what it felt like to want your lover, and
there was no chance Mateo would have ever compared.
Even now, as I try to brush off my body’s reaction as biology, I know her
reasoning isn’t entirely true. My body isn’t betraying me at all; I just wish it
were.
It’d certainly make all of this easier.
Wrapping my fingers in his fist, he brings my hand back to the apex of
my thighs, ghosting them over my seam. My hips jerk into the motion, and he
smirks, nostrils flaring.
“So?” he taunts, raising an eyebrow, forcing my fingers to swirl gently
around my clit. My breath catches, and he leans into it, bending so we’re eye
level. “What else do you know about me, little one?”
My head grows heavy in this position, pain lancing through the muscles
in my neck; I let it fall back as the pleasure singing in my veins intensifies,
making my legs shake.
“You’re thirty-two with a Halloween birthday. You like reading poetry
and memoirs, though you don’t write at all. You got your medical degree
from Tufts and did your residency at Johns Hopkins.”
He makes a sound, but I can’t tell if he’s impressed or bored by my
recitation of his sparse Wikipedia page. Outside of it, I don’t actually know
that much about him, except that he’s a danger I’ve never been able to resist.
“Did you know that just before you met me in my office downstairs, I’d
just gotten done killing a man?” Kal whispers, his hot breath skimming my
face. I can barely focus on his words, though, too lost in the sensation of him
guiding my fingers, creating magic between my thighs.
“That’s why there was blood on my clothes. I know you noticed; saw the