TRADED TO THE LYCAN KING

ONE: LYRAHow To Ride a Guy like a Pro. Slowly sit over him and insert his dick into your pussy while maintaining eye contact with him. Place your two feet under his thighs and slowly rotate your hips. You can milk his penis by shooting your butt out, then go in slowly and continue with the rotation. Don't be shy. Remember that you're in control, and remember to alternate between riding him and bouncing on his dick. The lady's voice played on a loop in my head as my husband drove us to the getaway he booked for our 4th wedding anniversary. I've watched countless riding tutorials on YouTube and read up countless articles on how to please a man in the bedroom just because I needed to make tonight count. It was the first anniversary that we'd actually celebrate because things started going awry for Aaron almost immediately after our wedding. His business started crashing. His investments failed. Everything went wrong. He blamed me for it, even though he didn't say it verbally, but

LYRATwo hours ago, I was full of hope and excitement about how the night would play out, but now, my body was as heavy as lead, and my thoughts were in disarray. For the rest of the drive, Aaron had coached me about what to do and what not to do. He told me to do whatever Raguel requested of me and to make sure he was happy, but I just zoned out of the conversation. I haven't met Raguel yet but I already hated him for doing this to my marriage. My temperature rose when Aaron finally drove through an automated gate into a sprawling mansion in the middle of nowhere. I'd have gotten lost in the beauty of the mansion if my body wasn't trembling at the thought of the nightmare the night already was. I stepped out of the car, and the wind blew so hard I stumbled back and had to grab the door to steady myself. The air here was different in a way I couldn't describe, and I could have sworn there was a pair of red eyes in the garden before Aaron rushed over to my side to lead me to the s

LYRAI woke up feeling like I had been dragged through something I couldn’t remember. My body felt heavy and weak, with an aching, unfamiliar soreness. I lay still, trying to piece together fragments of the night before. Flashes—red eyes, a voice, a hand around my neck, the words, “Your husband sold you…”—made me gasp and snap my eyes open.The room was silent, the ceiling unfamiliar.I sat up, muttering, “It was just a dream. A very stupid dream.” I tried to rationalise the lingering physical discomfort as stress.I let out a shaky breath and dragged a hand down my face, my mind trying to process everything that happened last night. That was all it had to be. The tension. The fear. The… confusion. A dream.Nothing more.It had to be stress.Swinging my legs off the bed, I noticed neatly folded clothes on a chair. A dress—simple but elegant. Soft fabric that looked expensive even without touching it. Underneath it were undergarments, shoes placed carefully beside the chair, and even a

I backed away, stammering apologies, but my spine hit the cold brick of the dead-end alley.“I—I’m sorry,” I stammered, backing away. “I was just leaving. I didn’t see anything.”The three of them moved with that same terrifying grace. The boy they had been torturing didn’t hesitate. The moment their attention shifted to me, he scrambled to his feet and vanished into the shadows of the main street without looking back.I was alone.“How do you know about werewolves?” the leader asked.They spread out slowly, closing the space and boxing me in.My fingers curled against the wall behind me as I tried to steady my breathing.“Stay back,” I said, but my voice came out thinner than I wanted.Unconvincing.The one who had spoken first—the one who heard me—tilted his head, watching me like I was something strange.“Answer the question,” he said. “How do you know about werewolves?”“I don’t,” I replied quickly. “I was just talking. I didn’t mean anything. Please, just let me go.”“Doesn’t sou

It wasn’t just a kiss. It was a collision. His lips crashed into me, bruising, demanding, and I made a sound—somewhere between a gasp and a moan—before my hands flew up to his chest. I meant to push him away. I swore I did. But the moment my palms met the hard plane of his chest, felt the wild thud of his heart beneath my fingers, something inside me snapped. My fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt, bunching the material as I hauled him closer. I kissed him back, just as desperate, just as starved.His tongue swept into my mouth, hot and insistent, and I arched into him. One of his hands tangled in my hair, yanking just enough to tilt my head back, to give him better access, and the other—gods, the other gripped my waist like he was afraid I’d vanish if he let go. The sting of his nails through the fabric of my gown sent a jolt straight between my legs, and I whimpered into his mouth, my hips moving on their own, seeking friction.Raguel groaned, a low, vibration that started i