Grace of a Wolf (by Lenaleia) novel Chapter 275

Chapter 275: Grace: Overwhelm (I)

I pull his hair. He grinds against me harder, and the friction and his fingers and his mouth on my neck all leave me unable to focus on a single thing. Sweat prickles at my hairline. The sheets have gone hot beneath me. My forgotten arm, half-asleep, lies limp.

His breath stutters against my shoulder. Mine matches it. We move together—his hips, my hips, his hand, my grip in his hair—clumsy and perfect.

"Grace." My name again, but low and groaning and utterly wrecked.

I’m too busy grinding my pelvis against his hand to notice at first.

His canines bite at my shoulder. "Fuck, Grace. Open your legs."

I’m panting, and we’ve barely gotten started. The pressure of his palm against my core was enough to have me writhing. Incidentally, with my thighs pressed together so hard they’re shaking.

But I remember precisely how talented his fingers are, so opening them is easy enough to do.

Easy enough.

Easy...

Somehow, my thighs remain stuck together as I shove my ass harder against him, and Caine groans again.

My thighs won’t cooperate. Brain says open, legs say absolutely not. Some deep, primal part of me has locked every muscle below my waist into a death grip around his hand, and the harder I grind against his palm, the tighter they clamp.

Caine’s chest rumbles against my back. "Grace..."

"I’m—" Another roll of my hips. His fingers press harder and my spine arcs. I gasp. "I’m working on it."

"You’re not."

He’s right. I’m not. I’m chasing the friction like a woman possessed.

Teeth scrape my shoulder blade. "Let me in."

"I said I’m—"

But my half-hearted defense dies in my throat.

Caine looms over me a half-second before he shoves my hips flat against the bed. My butt feels suddenly lonely without a boner in between each cheek and I make a soft sound of protest.

The protest is ignored. With prejudice.

Instead, he grabs both knees and peels my legs apart. Muscles bunch and tense across his arms and chest, and the death grip I’d been using is useless against his strength.

Dark, storm-gray eyes bore into mine for all of another second.

Then his mouth lands on me with zero preamble, zero buildup, zero of the teasing I’ve come to expect. He doesn’t kiss my inner thigh. Doesn’t trail his lips along my hip. Doesn’t breathe hot and slow against me while I squirm. He buries his face between my legs like a man who’s been starving and just found the only meal that matters.

My hand flies to his hair again. The other claws the sheet. My entire body explodes off the bed to half-curl around his head.

Look at that. Now I know what to do with both hands.

The sound I make comes straight out of pornhub but I’m not even embarrassed.

His tongue is flat and hot and devastating, dragging through my folds with firm, steady pressure before flicking up to tease my already swollen clit.

My feet flail awkwardly in the air as I start realizing I’m now not sure where to put those. On his shoulders? Around his head? Can’t dig them into the mattress because he’s got them sky high and me open like goddamn Christmas morning.

Then something hot, dry, and harder than a tongue settles at my core, sliding in with ease and oh my God it feels so good.

VERIFYCAPTCHA_LABELVerify