Grace of a Wolf (by Lenaleia) novel Chapter 120

Chapter 120: Jack-Eye: Ruined

JACK-EYE

Lyre’s fingertips touch my jaw. Cold as winter but intent like summer heat. Her other hand presses against my chest, not pushing hard but with enough pressure to make me straighten.

She stands, one fluid motion that has me backing up instinctively. One step forward from her, one step back from me. A dance I’m suddenly not leading. My spine hits the wall before I realize she’s maneuvered me across the entire room.

“Rules,” she says, voice low and matter-of-fact. “You can’t touch me. Can’t move. No begging.” Her cat-like eyes hold mine, unblinking. “No calling my name. No calling for the Goddess. No prayers.”

I snort. Is she serious? I’ve had my share of wild nights, but she’s acting like this kiss might break me.

“Can you follow those rules, Aaron?”

“I think I can handle a kiss without calling for divine intervention.” My words sound confident. My dick? Not quite as sure.

It’s already painfully hard.

The corner of her mouth quirks up, and her tongue darts out to wet her lips. Just a flash of pink against her smirking mouth. My cock throbs in response, sudden and painful.

Fuck.

I swallow hard.

She leans in, and her mouth touches mine. It’s gentle. Controlled. Intentional. Nothing like the desperate crash of our lips from moments ago.

That’s it? I almost laugh. This is what she—

Heat.

It doesn’t start at my lips. It’s everywhere at once, sinking beneath my skin like liquid fire, wrapping around every blood vessel, every muscle, every tendon. My entire body tingles like she’s somehow touching all of me at once.

Then comes the ice—tiny flickers of cold dancing between the waves of heat. Like she’s playing my nerves, strumming me like an instrument.

Her fingertips are still on my chest. Her mouth is still barely touching mine. It’s the only physical contact between us, but my body feels like it’s being caressed everywhere.

My spine arches slightly against the wall, a puppet pulled by pleasure’s strings.

My wolf stirs, aroused beyond reason. His deep growls echo what I’m already thinking.

Claim her.

Mark her.

Keep her.

My hands twitch at my sides, desperate to pull her against me. The moment they move, she pulls back.

The pleasure stops so abruptly I almost whimper.

Almost.

I have pride, you know.

It might… not be very apparent, but it’s there, somewhere behind my straining, aching, begging cock.

“No,” she says, eyes heavy-lidded as she meets my gaze.

Just the one word. Nothing more.

I drop my hands back, fingers opening and closing in tight fists, trying to ground myself before I lose my mind completely.

She runs her tongue over my lips, a slow, deliberate tease. Her hand slides up my chest, around my neck, tiny touches that leave fire in their wake.

Then she grabs at the back of my neck and yanks me down.

My heart jumps. My cock follows suit, eager for more sweet agony.

Something electric moves through me from her touch—her energy seeping into my chest, into my bones. It’s not enough. I need more of it, more of her, and her goddamned soft, breathy touches are driving me insane.

If she wants to dominate, she should do it. Not… whatever this horrible undoing is.

She breathes against my mouth, nuzzling my lips with soft, sensual kisses. Her tongue flicks against the seam of my lips, promising but never delivering. I need to take control. Need to deepen this. Need to devour her.

But I can’t move. Her rules. I force my hands to stay at my sides, my entire body trembling with the effort not to say fuck it all and just take what I want.

I realize with distant shock that I’m breathing in perfect rhythm with her. She’s pacing me, controlling even the air in my lungs.

My hips buck once, instinctively seeking friction. She breaks the contact with my mouth.

Nothing touches.

And nothing’s satisfied.

My eyes can’t focus. I don’t know my own name. The day of the week. The fucking century.

But her energy doesn’t leave. It stays, buzzing under my skin, vibrating through every cell. I’m still being kissed even though her lips are gone.

I’m so close to the edge I could cry. My balls ache like they’ve been slowly roasted over open flame. One touch and I’d explode, if she’d just… be kind enough to touch me.

She isn’t.

Instead, Lyre studies me like I’m her little lab specimen, head tilted slightly, eyes clinical. At least this time there’s a little color in her cheeks, a little droop in her eyelids.

“That was your warm-up,” she says.

I can’t answer. Don’t have words. My hands shake uncontrollably. My throat is too dry to swallow.

I want to punch through the wall. Want to throw her onto the bed and fuck her until we break it. Want to fall to my knees and pray for mercy.

Ah. Now I see why she said no prayers.

She steps back, straightens her shirt with casual indifference, and walks toward the door like absolutely nothing happened.

“You have all that power under your skin, and you never even bring it out to play,” she says, glancing over her shoulder. She looks like some sort of sexy pinup model, and I want to destroy her perfect appearance. But I’m still processing all the feelings she’s left me with. “Don’t worry. You can’t hurt me. But maybe if you learn how to use it, you can make me scream.”

Ruined. She’s ruined me.

I’m fucking doomed.

There’s no way I can ever kiss another woman. Or even think about fucking anyone other than Lyre.

The door clicks shut behind her.

My wolf snarls, low and possessive in my mind. Claim her.

There’s a hidden or else in his words, like he might actually go dormant and turn me into little better than an omega if I don’t succeed.

I stay pressed against the wall, legs embarrassingly weak, breathing ragged. My heartbeat refuses to slow.

This thing between us? This game? I’m going to win, damn it. No matter what it takes.

Of course, I say that, but I can still feel her on my skin…