Submission is Not My Style novel Chapter 63

Alpha Jack 

breathe heavily as I gradually descend from the high she just pulled me into. My eyes flutter open, the haze slowly lifting, and the first thing i see is her 

She’s still on her knees before me, my release glistening on her lips–lips she’s now biting with deliberate, sultry intent. Her gaze is fixed on mine, dark and heavy–lidded, filled with mischief and molten heat. 

Goddess, she looks divine like this–covered in my cum, kneeling before me like the perfect submissive she–wolf. The sight stirs something feral in me, and I feel my cock already hardening again. 

“Take her. Now.” 

My wolf snarts in my mind, restless, demanding. I grit my teeth to resist the urge, every muscle in my body taut with restraint. 

“Not yet.” 

I watch her rise to her feet with slow, feline grace, dragging her tongue across the corner of her lips to catch the last taste of me. Then she turns, casually trying to walk away–as if she hadn’t just undone me. 

My body snaps into motion before my mind catches up. 

“Where do you think you’re going?” I growl standing swiftly to catch her wrist and pull her back until she crashes into my chest. 

She smirks, that infuriating, seductive smirk that always tests my control. “Well,” she purrs, half–turning away, “I thought I was done here.” 

I growl again–deeper, hungrier. Wrapping my arms around her waist, I lift her effortlessly and set her down on my desk. 

She gasps, startled, her eyes wide as they lock with mine–flashing with something between alarm and anticipation. She knows exactly what she’s doing. And so do I. 

I step between her thighs, forcing them apart with my hips before she has a chance to resist. Our breaths mingle in heated sync that has my blood racing with anticipation, and I brace my hands on either side of her on the desk, leaning in close. 

So close, I can see the tiny flutter of her lashes, the faint freckles across her cheeks, every pore, every contour–her button nose and plump, upturned lips. that beckon me like a siren’s song. 

She swallows hard, her earlier confidence slipping, melting into something far more vulnerable. I see it in the way her eyes dart from mine, in the tremble of her breath. 

Before I can give in to the overwhelming temptation of ravishing those lips, I straighten up and step back, running my tongue across my teeth as I drink her in. The tension between us crackles like lightning in a storm. 

“Now,” I start in a low husky tone, my heavy gaze never straying from hers, “spread your legs; I’d like to return the favour, mate.” 

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