Grace of a Wolf by Lenaleia

Chapter 131: Lyre: Wash it Out

LYRE

Aaron’s fumbling a little, hesitating before he jerks my head back, his voice trembling just a little when he tries to sound cold.

It’s cute.

Like he wants to treasure me, not take me like a common whore.

But I don’t want to be something precious. I want dirty. Filthy. And to see exactly how much dominance lies under his skin.

I know he’s thinking about it. About how easily I took the wizard in my mouth. How I didn’t even flinch. It’s the kind of thing to bruise a man’s ego.

Good.

Let it bruise.

Let him fuck me like he’s got something to prove. I want his claws out, his teeth at my throat—not worship. I want him to use me. Break the illusion that I’m untouchable. Leave marks where everyone will see them. I’ll heal, but he needs to know what it feels like to fuck something divine—and realize she liked it.

Being powerful is like a drug. The highest of highs, but it comes with its own side effects—like knowing no one can put their hand to your throat and expect to live through it.

I’m tired of being the strongest in the room. Of being worshipped. Sex is little more than an itch to be scratched every few years, usually with some random slop of a human. And they’re always so reverent, so awed, unable to handle the power oozing even from my breath.

But not Aaron.

He’s hesitant, but he isn’t weak.

of me, even when he has

Caeriel tried it, I’d tear out

can feel his hard, heavy cock pressed against my ass, my heart thumps hard. He’s willing to play along,

his aura whispering against it, and for

stops, I might actually

I purr, shoving back against his cock. "How

alone drags across my

shiver

of violence or necessity. This? This feeling of yielding control

him think this is about him. The truth

thumb presses against my cheek, pushing slowly over my lips until it breaches my mouth. My breath catches in my chest. He’s understanding my assignment so well I could purr. I give his thumb a long,

in trouble." His voice strokes along my nerves, low and deliberate, sending a slick pulse of want straight between my legs. "First it’s all over another

scraping against his thumb. "You gonna punish

heat across my skin. In one swift motion, he captures my wrist and twists my arm behind me, forcing my back to arch, my breasts to thrust forward. The sudden shift in power sends a flood

Fuck.

Yeah.

what

done. Whatever decision he’s come to, it’s exactly what I

you want me to," he growls against

second skin, brushing mine without ever quite touching. My breath hitches, not

jealousy and something darker. Every inch of me reacts to it. It’s humiliating. And fucking delicious. My thighs are already slick, my spine arched like I’m begging for it. I’m not. But I will let

desire. It’s a

eyes find his from below, half-lidded and taunting. I’ve faced death and walked away intact—I’ll surrender, but only to