Grace of a Wolf by Lenaleia

Chapter 134: Lyre: Her Game (III)

LYRE

His dominance pushes deeper inside me—an invisible, maddening pressure. it fills without filling. My hips buck against it, desperate for friction that isn’t there. Just this ethereal presence stretching me open while I clench around nothing but air and alpha energy.

"Fuck," I gasp, grinding down harder. It’s maddening—too much and not enough. Both filled and empty. Every thrust of his aura just reminds me I’ve got nothing solid inside me.

My magic sparks wildly under my skin, crackling along nerve endings that haven’t fired in way too long. I’m completely lit up with want so intense it borders on pain.

Aaron slides his cock against my entrance, and I jerk forward, positioning myself just right, ready to take him in one perfect thrust—

But the bastard sees it coming.

He pulls back with a smug fuck-you smirk, dodging me just as I line him up.

"Goddamn it," I growl, my thighs trembling with the need to slam myself down on him anyway. Arcana surges, wild and hungry, lashing out to drag him in—greedy and reckless, just like me.

But he’s learned faster than expected, using his dominance to hold firm against my need. His aura expands inside me, pressing deeper, wider, filling me with everything but what I want.

I’m furious. I’m aching. If he wanted to fuck my mouth, I’d open for him. If he wanted to fold me in half and pound me through this shitty motel mattress, I’d wrap my legs around him and beg for more. But this? This slow, torturous denial? I might actually lose what’s left of my mind.

"You’re going

"Maybe. But right now?" His eyes drift down to where I’m spread open for him, clenching around invisible

one setting the pace, dictating the terms. Now

little deeper—" He demonstrates, his dominance surging inside me, thrusting deep enough to have my back

seeking him, begging without words because I refuse—absolutely refuse—to plead. But my body betrays me, tilting upward, trying to capture the

it already," I snap, frustration making my

hiss, back arching as he draws my nipple through his teeth. Then he soothes with

hot and slick with my arousal, but he still doesn’t fuck me—just keeps thrusting against me like a goddamn tease, every wet drag of him making me twitch with need. His dominance pulses inside me in time with

him inside. But he’s

grit out. A

onto my side, rough hands arranging me like I’m a doll. One of my legs lifts over his thigh, exposing me completely. His cock slides between my

presses my leg down, sandwiching his cock between my thighs instead of pushing inside. The pressure against

hips at the perfect angle, ready to capture him on his next thrust, calculating

fucker pulls back just enough to dodge me, knowing exactly what I’m

patience. I could kill him. I could set this

him, desperate for friction, for release, for anything to ease this

claiming, pulsing inside