Grace of a Wolf (by Lenaleia) novel Chapter 58

Chapter 58: Grace: Climax (END OF BOOK ONE)

Why does he keep talking? Every time he opens his damn mouth, it makes the throbbing harder.

“You want this.”

Telling him I don’t seems kind of… well, pointless. Because my body, my actions, my everything right now is giving him an entire different story. And he isn’t wrong. Murderer or whatever, it doesn’t change the fire he’s bringing to my blood, the tense anticipation which has me quivering as his fingers slip just a little bit closer.

“Say it, Grace,” Caine demands. The words are so rough, his voice so deep, my hips jerk. “Tell me you want this.”

I press my lips together. Some wanton part of me wants to do as he says, but the overwhelming majority denies his request, the embarrassment too much to overcome. Even with it flushing my cheeks, though, my body continues its responses. A shiver here. A sharp intake of breath there. A wiggle of my hips to entice his fingers further, until they finally reach the edge of my panties.

More.

Higher.

“Stubborn little human,” he murmurs. “I can hear your heartbeat racing. I can smell your desire. It’s so thick I could choke on it. Is that what you want, Grace? For me to die in your arms?”

How does he say things so easily? It just comes out like he doesn’t feel any mortification at all. Meanwhile, I’m slamming my palms against my face, hiding behind them as if they might shield me from his shamelessly erotic words. As if covering my flaming cheeks might somehow cool the heat spreading throughout my body.

“Look at me.”

I shake my head behind my hands once more.

His hips shift, his legs spreading mine wider. Then his hand leaves my hip to wrap around one of my wrists; not pulling, just holding it where it rests. “I want to see your eyes when you admit what’s happening between us.”

The gentleness in his voice almost undoes me. Almost. I expected the Lycan King to continue his demands. To force. Conquer. This patient coaxing feels more dangerous somehow.

“You’ve never felt this before, have you?” His thumb traces circles on the inside of my wrist. “With him.”

The mention of Rafe should douse the fire, but instead it burns hotter with indignation. I stiffen, but his fingers swoop under the edge of my underwear, gaining access to the slick arousal beneath. My breath hitches.

Caine chuckles, the sound dark and knowing. “Your silence tells me everything I need to know.”

He sounds so smug, but the brief flash of irritation over Rafe’s name disappears under the assault from down below. Hard, hot fingers glide, shoving my panties to the side, and I arch my hips up, moaning when they brush the entrance. There’s a small spot there, more sensitive than the rest, and I want him to press it hard. To grind down. To rub and do whatever he wishes.

But instead his fingers slide up, finding something just as good. He flicks and pinches and twists, harassing my clit just a little before sliding down again. Back and forth. Leaving me breathless and whimpering, legs quivering.

He taps his fingers at the entrance of me; not shoving inside, but almost like… I’m not sure. It’s hard to catalogue what I’m feeling down there.

It feels like he’s covering my vagina like a freaking garden hose, and why does it feel so good? I rotate my pelvis, and one finger slides just a millimeter inside, pushing down. I groan in half relief, but it isn’t enough. I need more.

“I could make you beg, you know.” His voice drops an octave, rougher now. “I could touch you until you forget who you are. Until the only word left for you to scream is my name.”

Ah, that beautiful mouth of his.

My breath catches. My eyes squeeze shut even tighter, as if darkness might somehow dilute everything.

It doesn’t.

“Fuck,” he mutters, and his teasing fingers press harder. “Your scent…”

Suddenly, he swivels his hand a little and something blunt and hot slides inside, stretching the sensitive skin. It’s a pleasant ache. More than pleasant. I want… more.

Bigger.

Deeper.

“Two,” he groans. “Fuck. You’re tight, but you’re wet enough to take two right away. How fucking perfect.”

A sharp, rapid-fire knocking interrupts the perfection.

Caine freezes above me, a low growl building in his chest. I should be horrified. Mortified.

All my arousal should be flying out the window.

Instead, I push my hips down, forcing his fingers in just a little farther. My hands slide off my face, eyes still closed as I reach frantically for the hand between my thighs.

“I know I’m interrupting,” Lyre’s unmistakably bored voice filters through the door, “but your boyfriend’s presence is required.”

Caine growls. “Ignore her.”

I already am, grabbing onto his forearm with both hands and pulling.

I cringe at the desperate sound of my own voice, too arousal-drunk to care. He’s still, frozen above me as if my plea surprised him as much as it did me. I meet his eyes, vulnerable and helpless. Pleading.

Half of me wants to kick him off and run because oh my God

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