Grace of a Wolf by Lenaleia

Chapter 147: Grace: Squeeze

His finger pushes deeper, hitting a perfect, toe-curling spot inside me.

I can’t think, can’t breathe—can only feel. The energy between us rushes like a freaking tidal wave; it’s become millions of threads, impossible to contain as it overwhelms every rational thought.

He curls and drives his finger just right, dragging moans out of me with every slow grind, and it’s absolute madness in my head.

My hips buck against his hand with a will of their own. I’m grinding down, chasing the pressure, the friction, desperate for more. The golden threads connecting us pulse brighter with each movement, multiplying until they’re all I can see behind half-closed eyes.

"Do you have control, Grace?"

Fuck. I was supposed to be focusing.

His voice is strained, as if he’s hanging onto his restraint by a thread.

Me, too.

I shake my head—wildly, desperately, honestly. The confession burns my pride, but lying now would be catastrophic.

I’m trying—I swear I’m trying—but every time he curls his fingers—fuck—my brain goes blank.

He growls, the sound rumbling through the room and straight to my clit. His free hand grabs my chin, fingers digging into my jaw as he claims my mouth again—wet, open, demanding. His tongue sweeps inside, commanding rather than asking, and I surrender willingly.

The energy surges between us, doubling in intensity. I feel it everywhere—not just where his finger works inside me, but racing along my skin, crackling through my veins, setting fire to every nerve ending and diving into him at every goddamn opportunity.

His finger curls, pressing hard against a swollen spot deep inside, and I cry out against his mouth. He adds a second finger, stretching me, filling me, working me with ruthless precision.

I arch. I can’t not. My back arches hard, and I clutch the sheets as if they’ll anchor me. I can’t even tell what I’m reacting to anymore—the pressure, the tension, the way everything slick and perfect keeps winding me tighter, or the magic racing wild beneath my skin.

I should be doing something—anything—but my brain’s gone completely sideways.

No control.

No thought.

all at once. I think I’m panting. Or maybe whimpering. Goddess,

in my mind’s eye are so bright I can’t look directly at them anymore. They’re searing white at

on the edge of freaking heaven, and I might actually explode if I try.

No.

It’s too much.

to tell

inside, how his thumb rubs at my clit, the way my entire body’s coiled and about

gasp, tearing my mouth from his. "I

and rearing up on his knees above me. "Fuck!"

It’s awkward.

it’s

gotten a hint of release yet, and I slammed the brakes right in the middle

his glistening fingers to his mouth and slowly, deliberately licks them

core clenches painfully at the sight. It’s a claim, pure and simple. An ownership of my pleasure, my

Shit.

to do it

body feels like it’s been rung out and left

sparking and seeking release, trapped just beneath the surface as it makes my fingers twitch

judging by how the bulge in his pants

staring directly between my thighs. The heat in his eyes could melt steel. Shit.

has me on

spark slams through me, forcing reconnection. My body jerks on the bed, back arching involuntarily, but I force myself to

a rush anymore, but a steady stream of a

Need to understand it. Need

palm to palm. The arcane surge builds

yank it into submission. Nothing happens. The flow continues unabated, moving

body trembling. His knuckles are white where he grips the sheets with his free hand. I’m not doing any

I want more.