Grace of a Wolf (by Lenaleia) novel Chapter 189

189 Grace: Oh My Goddess

189 Grace: Oh My Goddess

I’m a whole puddle of Grace under his stare.

Come to think of it, I’ve met a lot of personal quotas tonight. From zombie dreams to pseudo–fucking in the bathroom.

Nuh–uh.

His hands are large, looking strong at a glance, with just the right amount of veins and wow, his fingers are long.

I’m over here drooling and he’s not even noticing.

Cloth barrier or not, there was still some energy transferring. And it definitely got more intense toward the end. And… I’d told myself I was going to focus on it and

didn’t.

I think.

And how the washcloth will actually need to be used for its proper purpose.

Nope. Abort. Cannot go further. Bad idea.

“We can’t,” I say, though I don’t sound particularly firm about it. Even to my own ears, it’s more coquettish than anything, and I’m half–hoping he pushes my boundaries.

“I can-”

But the way my name rolls off his tongue sends a spark straight down to my clit and I squeeze my thighs together, pretending we’re in public surrounded by like, a hundred people.

m without

My eyes dip a little lower–an involuntary glance, I swear–at the hard length of him still readily visible against his pants. My lips feel suddenly dry, and I wet thinking.

Is it a full moon? It kind of feels like it should be a full moon.

I stiffen, guilt flashing through me. Hadn’t even tried. Wanted to, but my brain kind of went off onto a whole different road and forgot.

189 Grace: Oh My Goddess

My fingers feel suddenly itchy as I remember how I’d brought him to climax before. Granted, I’d… choked it to near–death, but hey, orgasms are called little death in French, right? So maybe my technique wasn’t too terrible.

Even Horny Grace wouldn’t climb him like a fucking tree with a hundred people watching.

Obediently lowering my leg and straightening so I’m a little less wanton, I crack my eyes open and peer over my shoulder.

Not even a little bit.

His chuckle brushes against my ear, warm and knowing. “Did you get more control today?”

Nope.

Taking a deep breath, I slowly turn in the cage of his arms. It’s not easy in this tiny space to avoid contact, and my bare skin slides against the counter’s edge, which feels really warm after leaning against it for so long. I let my gaze land somewhere in the region of his chin and throat, not quite brave enough to look him in the eyes as my cheeks flame wildly.

His voice.

Horny Grace has already gotten what she wanted–well, to an extent–and has fled in the face of rational, calm, normal, oh–my–Goddess–what–did–we–do Grace.

“Does it… hurt?”

And how I’m really, really hoping Andrew’s dead fucking asleep, because if he isn’t, he fucking knows what happened in here and I. Am. Mortified.

Understatement of the century. Brilliant line choices, Grace. You should write a fucking screenplay.

Without thinking too much about what I’m doing, my hand reaches out, drifting toward the very thing keeping about ninety percent of my attention.

I was rather… preoccupied.

Caine widens his stance a little and reaches down to adjust himself. I watch intently, unable to tear my eyes away from the movement of his hand.

Verify captcha to read the contentVerify