Grace of a Wolf-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. freeweɓnovēl.coɱ

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.

I force my hips into complacency. No thrusting against her like a rutting beast. Got it. Message received.

She exhales softly, directly into my mouth. I suck it in like it’s oxygen in space.

A moan escapes me before I can stop it. Pathetic. Needy.

Shut up. Men don’t moan like that. We’re strong and capable and don’t melt just off a woman’s exhale.

But I did.

She’s barely touched me, hardly kissed me, and I’m already falling apart.

My wolf keeps clawing at my insides, frantic and feral. I can barely hold him back. His need for her mingles with mine until I can’t tell where the animal ends and the man begins.

My scent’s spiked, sharp and musky, probably filling the room. I can barely smell her beneath the dominance rolling off me, and yet my scent lies.

It claims domination, but I’m already at her feet.

I want to claim her. Mark her. Not just her body, but her entire existence. Bind her to me so deeply that neither of us could ever be free.

Yet I’m also willing to beg and prostrate myself for even a whisper of a kiss. Sell my soul for a little more.

My cock pulses again, straining painfully against my jeans.

I’m trembling now. Actually fucking trembling, like some virgin getting his first taste of a woman. My thighs are tight, stomach clenched, every muscle wound to breaking.

Lyre did this.

And yet she’s done almost nothing.

My mouth aches for more, still open, waiting for her next breath, her next taste. I’ve become a vessel for whatever she’ll give me.

Her tongue flicks against the roof of my mouth and holy shit—I see stars. Actual stars explode behind my eyelids.

She slides deeper, and I suck greedily at her tongue. It sweeps through my mouth in long, languid movements, teasing and retreating. Her taste is stronger than before—sweet, addictive, otherworldly.

I almost break. My hands lift slightly before I force them back, fingers clawing at empty air. My cock throbs so hard it hurts, skin too tight, body too small to contain what’s happening.

It feels like she’s touching me everywhere—hands on my cock, mouth sucking me, fingers inside me—but it’s just her lips on mine, her hand on my neck.

And my wolf—he feels it too, like some bond between us is being stroked and teased. Like we’re building toward something that’ll shatter us both.

Then she pulls back. Not far. Still close enough for her breath to hit my lips. The sweet nectar of oxygen, even if it’s actually carbon dioxide.

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...