Grace of a Wolf by Lenaleia

Chapter 133: Jack-Eye: Her Game (II)

JACK-EYE

She pushes back against my hand, trying to force my fingers inside. I pull back again, denying her. Her growl of frustration sends a shiver down my spine.

"I thought you were going to wash out my mouth." She’s trying to provoke me, challenge me. "Or are you all talk, wolf?"

In response, I let my dominance pour out of me like smoke—thick, suffocating, filling the air between us. It rolls over her skin, a ripple of goosebumps rising in its wake as it presses against her like an invisible hand.

I’ve never seen a non-wolf react to alpha energy like this. This is a trick that works on betas, omegas—pack members who recognize the hierarchy. Humans might fall beneath it, might struggle to breathe and be crushed by its pressure, but they don’t feel it like we do. Like more than just a wave of heavy, crushing weight.

But Lyre’s back arches under it, her breath coming faster.

I lean forward and grab a handful of her breast, squeezing with slow, deliberate pressure. My thumb circles her nipple before giving it a firm twist, just enough to leave a phantom ache behind.

She doesn’t moan, doesn’t flinch—but her breath hitches, barely perceptible, and her skin tightens beneath my palm. I switch hands, repeating the pattern with quiet focus. No rush. No mercy. I want her keyed up and off balance before I even truly begin.

Then something strange happens. Her magic pushes back against mine. Not resisting, exactly—more like... teasing. Playing. Her energy slides against mine, coy and challenging, like fingers dancing along the edges of my power.

then slipping away when it gets too close. My wolf snarls,

alpha energy. It crashes over her, breaking through the teasing resistance with an outpouring of primal power. Her magic buckles under it—not surrendering, but yielding space, acknowledging

breathlessly, the

I’m the one being trained. "I was beginning to think I’d have to spell out what I wanted in small

teeth, makes my heart pound. She’s not fighting me for dominance; she’s still trying to control how I

thighs fall wider, an invitation. Her scent curls around me, thick and

I want to

all now. Instead, I concentrate my aura there, between her legs. I’ve never tried this before—using my dominance as a physical force, focused so

on my forehead with the effort. Every nerve in my body is screaming at me to abandon this and just fuck her, but I

that I’m touching her without touching her—rewriting the rules

it tears

my dominance

hard to maintain control as I watch her open for me, millimeter by glorious millimeter. It’s the most erotic thing I’ve ever seen—her body responding to nothing but my

same time. I can feel her heat, her wetness, the way she clenches around nothing but my aura. I’m buried inside her without a single inch of flesh—just will and want, driving

breathe, watching as she takes more of my energy, her body trembling with each invisible thrust. "How