TRADING MY CHEATING HUSBAND FOR THE LYCAN KING novel Chapter 328

CHAPTER 257: SIXTY SECONDS

EMBER’S POV

My stomach drops, flips, and catches fire simultaneously.

I KNOW those words.

I know them in my body before my brain catches up, and the memory hits me with the force of a freight

train.

The hotel room, the black lace, the garter belt I’d never worn before, Knox on his knees between my legs with the styling team locked on the other side of the door and my back against the wall and the count falling apart in my mouth because his tongue was doing things that made numbers feel like a foreign language.

I was a different woman then. Terrified, exhilarated, wearing borrowed confidence and someone else’s

lingerie.

I counted down from sixty and didn’t make it past twenty–six.

“You cannot be serious right now.”

“I’ve never lost this game.” His thumb is tracing circles on my hip under the water, and the casual,

distracted quality of the motion contrasts violently with the intensity in his eyes. “Flawless record.”

“We’ve played it ONCE, Knox. One time does not constitute a record.”

“One win, zero losses. Mathematically undefeated.” He pulls me closer, and his c**k presses against my

stomach through the water, and his mouth brushes my ear. “Unless you’re scared.”

“I am not SCARED, I am standing in a hot spring in my underwear at two in the morning with a man who

has a broken wrist and delusions of-”

“Sixty.”

“I haven’t agreed to-”

“Fifty–nine.”

“Knox, I swear to-”

r

“Fifty–eight.” His good hand slides from my hip to between my legs, and his fingers trace the edge of my

underwear, and the touch is featherlight and maddening, and I lose my entire train of thought. “You’re falling behind, darling. I’m already counting.”

“FINE. Fifty–seven.”

His grin is insufferable. Absolutely, catastrophically insufferable. The grin of a man who knows he’s already won and is enjoying the formality of proving it.

CHAPTER 267 SIXTY SECONDS

He slides ny underwear to the side, and his fingers find me.

“The first touch makes my breath stutter because I’m already wet – not from the water, but fucking

drenched, my p***y a stoppy, swollen disaster of pure filthy need.

I am heavy and dripping, my hot slick instantly coating his fingers.

+25 Points

My clit is so engorged that the absolute lightest graze of his thumb makes my hips jerk, pulsing wildly against his hand like I’m begging him to completely wreck me.

The warm water makes the sensation slippery, amplified, every nerve ending dialled up by the heat, my cunt clenching greedily around nothing like it’s starving for him, my inner walls fluttering and squeezing desperately, leaking even more slick down my thighs in filthy, dripping rivulets.

“Fifty… six,” I manage.

His thumb finds my clit and circles slowly, lazily, with the patience of a man who has absolutely no intention of rushing and every intention of making me fall apart on his schedule, rubbing that swollen little nub until my hips jerk and more slick leaks out of me in thick, creamy pulses that make the water around

us even hotter.

“Fifty–five.”

“Good girl. Keep counting.”

“Don’t call me- fifty–four- don’t call me that when I’m trying to concentra–fifty–three-”

“You love it when I call you that.” His fingers slip lower, two of them sliding inside me in one smooth motion, and the stretch and the fullness and the way he curls them, pressing up against that spot he has mapped with such precision, makes my knees buckle under the water.

My p***y grips him tight, fluttering and pulsing around the thick intrusion, so fucking wet the filthy, squelching sound of it is audible even underwater, my creamy juices gushing around his knuckles like my cunt is trying to suck him deeper.

His arm catches me. The water catches me. But the count stumbles badly.

“Fifty… fifty…”

r

“Lost your place?”

“Shut UP, Knox.”

“Fifty–two. I’ll be generous.” He presses deeper, curling his fingers in a rhythm that he has spent months perfecting because Knox Volkov approaches my body the way he approaches everything – with

obsessive, meticulous, relentless focus until he has memorised every nerve ending and can play me like

an instrument he built with his own hands.

Stroking that spongy spot inside me until my cunt is gushing around his knuckles in hot, messy squirts and my thighs are shaking uncontrollably.

CHAPTER 267 SIXTY SECONDS

I’m gripping his shoulders.

+25 Points

“My nails dig into the muscle hard enough to leave marks, and he doesn’t flinch because he likes it – the bastard likes it when Thurt him a little, It feeds something in his wolf that purrs at the reminder that his mate has claws of her own

“Fifty–one.” I’m panting.

The steam is thick around us and the stars are swimming overhead and his fingers are inside me, deep

and curving.

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