Grace of a Wolf by Lenaleia

Chapter 132: Jack-Eye: Her Game (I)

JACK-EYE

She looks at me, lips parted, eyes blown wide with want. "Then wash it out for me."

The invitation hangs between us, filthy and explicit. I know exactly what she wants from me. She wants my cock down her throat until she’s sobbing. Wants me to fuck her mouth until she can’t taste him anymore, until there’s nothing left of Thom’s magic or his presence.

And Goddess help me, I want it too. Have been dreaming about it since I first caught her scent. The thought of sliding between those sharp little teeth, watching those cat eyes water as she takes me deep—it’s been torturing me since I laid eyes on her. I hated watching her do it to another man. Hated everything about it.

But giving Lyre exactly what she wants? Too easy. She’s testing me. Everything with her is a game, a challenge, a way to see if I’ll break. And I refuse to fail.

My mind wanders to a ridiculous place. I imagine grabbing her wrist, dragging her into the bathroom, and brushing her damn teeth. Slow and condescending, standing behind her at the sink mirror, watching her furious eyes as I move the brush over every tooth.

"Minty fresh," I’d say with a smug grin, right before she’d spin around and punch me in the balls.

The image is so absurd that my lips twitch, amusement flickering briefly across my face.

Lyre’s eyes narrow immediately. Nothing gets past her. "What are you thinking?"

lie, my voice

chest. I’ve been sucked into her orbit, drawn

grip firm on her hair as I kiss her—upside down, her head tilted back against me. My mouth consumes hers, tongue pushing inside without hesitation. I taste her, explore her, deep and slow, cleaning every crevice. My tongue slides against the roof of her mouth, behind

filthy. I

her bottom

down and pinch both nipples, hard and sudden. Her back arches off the bed as a moan spills from her mouth, giving me exactly what I

and red, her eyes glassy with arousal. I run my fingers over her mouth possessively,

around my knuckles as she sucks. The wet heat of her mouth sends

hiss from between my teeth, and I have to close my eyes for a second—just a second—or I might lose

to keep her like this, mouth full and obedient, tongue flicking lazy circles like she’s savoring

a different kind of washing out in mind," she murmurs between licks, her voice

my throat; it’s dry

as one of my arms hooks beneath her hips, lifting her ass into the air. My other hand yanks a

and so wet I can see it gleaming on her inner thighs. The sight of her displayed like this, offered up and waiting, makes my wolf

for my hands, my mouth, my teeth. Even my wolf whines with the need to claim

I don’t. I