Promised to the Tyrant
R.C KAPURyou have forgotten the face of your fathertrouble with fatheri will not expect anything from my ungrateful fathermy mate's father wants me
"I can smell blood, Stray, and it is not mine. So you are definitely bleeding."
"I am not bleeding," I repeated those words, but this time, as they rang through my head, they took on a different meaning.
Racking through my brain, I tried to remember what date it was, but there was no need for that.
The unexpected sensation in my lower abdomen, which was hidden behind my orgasm until a few seconds ago, came to the forefront.
Oh God! He was right; I was bleeding. Damn, his keen senses.
The realization washed over me, tainting my cheeks with the blush of embarrassment, one that extinguished all that confidence in one go.