LYRE
Aaron tastes so much better than I thought he would.
Enough for a tiny little pulse of heat to thud between my legs.
Maybe a smidgen more than tiny.
Okay, yes, I'm wet. But I'm not going to tell him that. Men don't need their egos stroked; they grow without water or care. I'm here to prune it. Shape it into what I need.
Every girl needs a toy, and this man seems exceptionally willing. Always a plus.
Generally, I have a rule against mixing with wolves, but… well.
I saunter out of the room, humming under my breath. There's something satisfyingly twisted about the Eurythmics in this moment. I'm pretty sure I've left Jack-Eye—sorry, Aaron—ready to claw through walls. I'd apologize if I felt even remotely bad about it.
I don't, though.
He started it.
I'm just… ending it.
Or maybe beginning something new.
