The Psi Wolf
"You are my fated Luna, Lyra; your saliva is the only antidote I require."
"Your broken legs," I gasped, my core tightening into a sudden, throbbing wetness as the massive heat of his muscular thighs pressed against my small bottom. "The pressure will aggravate your old wounds."
"Sit still, little wolf," he growled against my ear, his large hand sliding up my thigh to hold me firmly against his cock, his possessive scent entirely paralyzing my psychic defenses.
I placed my small hand against his knee, the deadened muscle beneath the heavy fabric sending a pang of grief through my wolf. "Do you truly feel nothing here? Does the loss of your commander status make you hate the dawn?"