Promises and Pomegranates by Sav R. Miller

sentence. You’ll serve it at my goddamn side as the queen of my little
underworld, and all your family will ever be able to do is watch.”
I gasp as he finishes his sentence, the image of my parents watching Kal
fuck me deliciously forbidden and intoxicating for some reason. An ultimate
act of defiance, I suppose.
Arching my back, my release shatters through me, breaking me into a
million jagged little pieces. It pulses so thick and fully through me that I
choke on it, my sticky hand falling to my side as my clit throbs violently with
aftershocks.
“You’re divine when you come, little one.”
Kal withdraws from me, wiping his fingers on my scar, then reaches up to
smooth his thumb over my cheekbone. The expression on his face makes my
stomach knot up, the gentleness with which he touches me now at odds with
how he has every time before.
“Who was at the door?” I ask, coherent thought finally making its way
through my brain, the memory of what interrupted us before crashing the
post-orgasm glow. “And what do you mean, you think Papá is watching us?”
“Don’t worry about that.” Straightening, Kal slips off the bed, clearing
his throat. “Get some rest, Elena.”
And then he disappears from the room.