Possessed Wolfless: From Rejected to Vengeful Lycans' Queen
Chapter 132: Inside the Car
CHAPTER 132: INSIDE THE CAR
The more Lethia tried to sleep, the more Zeran’s actions from earlier in the car haunted her. How could he be so cruel, leaving her unfinished like that?
Lethia bit her lower lip hard, trying to turn the ache into another kind of pain.
She couldn’t even tell anymore whether it was because of the baby or her own rising desire. She kept pinching her arm, desperate to distract her thoughts.
Flashback — a while ago, inside the car
Lethia had been caught off guard by Zeran’s possessive kiss. It was good—no, it was intoxicating—but...
Even as she got lost in that fevered, wet kiss, gasping breathlessly, her hand slid up to his chest, tapping repeatedly in half-hearted protest until they finally broke apart.
Their breaths collided, wild and shallow, and the fire in their eyes mirrored the hunger they both refused to name.
Zeran’s arms tightened around her, pulling her in again to devour her lips, but her hand pressed firmly against his chest.
"Zeran... wait... we—" Lethia couldn’t even finish the sentence. Her eyes flicked toward the front seat where Zeran’s driver and secretary sat. Their presence made her skin crawl.
Zeran gave her a knowing smile. One hand reached for a button on the seat’s side, and with a smooth click, a divider rose, sealing them off completely from the front.
"It’s done," Zeran smirked as his hand slipped off one of Lethia’s shoes, her thigh still draped across his lap.
"W–wait..." Lethia’s voice trembled with a startled chuckle as his fingers glided across her sole, tracing their way slowly up her calf.
Zeran locked his gaze on her, eyes burning with intent. "Why? No one can see us. Didn’t you want this?"
His fingers moved with gentle, deliberate pressure, sliding higher beneath her dress until they reached the sensitive skin of her inner thigh.
Lethia gulped hard, unable to form a single word, her pelvis clenching instinctively to ease the sharp craving building deep inside her as Zeran’s fingers teased the very edge of her groin.
Was he really going to do it here? In this car? He never once gave in whenever she tried to tempt him in bed. ’Was this his kink?’
Her spiralling thoughts weren’t keeping pace with her body—her hand was already clutching the back of his neck, pulling him in just so she could drown in that raw, earthy scent of his.
Shamelessly, she craved that masculine, grounding smell that twisted her insides into a frenzy.
"Aahh... Ze—"
She arched her back with a gasp when one of his fingers brushed against her centre—right in the middle—with just enough pressure to send a pulsing throb racing through her.
Her reflexes kicked in. She raised her other leg and crossed it over, now both thighs on his lap from the side, locking his hand right there between them.
Lethia’s eyes fluttered shut as she savoured every push-graze of his touch, like his hand had always belonged there, crafted for nothing but her pleasure.
Zeran let out an amused chuckle that made her eyes snap open.
He leaned in, his lips pressing a slow, wicked kiss against the side of her neck, just below her ear. His breath came out in a growl, deep and heavy.
"Try to guess... You’re behaving like this, is it what our pup wants—or is it just you?"
His question echoed in her head like a dare.
Is it a need? Yes.
Lust? Maybe.
But whose? Hers? The baby’s?
The deep throb in her chest twisted tighter, her heart pounding as if trying to answer what her mind couldn’t.
Lethia pulled Zeran closer, her teeth grazing his ear, breath coming out in shallow, ragged gasps as his finger pressed down in tight, circular motions that left her core drenched in damp, addictive sin.
"Does it matter?" she whispered between soft moans, her voice quivering, whimpering with ache.
But this ache... why did she crave it so much?
Why the hell was it only him who could fill this place gnawing inside her?
She wanted him. She needed him.
Zeran’s tongue trailed slowly along the curve of her ear before he replied with a growl of a whisper, "Don’t blame me too much. You asked for this."
With a sudden pull, he yanked his trapped hand free, making Lethia blink, startled.
Then, without hesitation, he lowered her legs and took position, kneeling, leaning in with a sharp, demanding energy that made her breath catch.
In one rough motion, Zeran spread her thighs apart.
"W–wait—" Lethia gasped, completely thrown off by the raw force of him parting her like she’d been hiding what belonged to him.
But the shock was instantly replaced with a jolt of tingling pleasure as his lips began kissing along her knees, slow and deliberate, while his fingers worked her dress upward inch by inch.
A soft moan escaped her lips before she could catch it.
She used to think this limousine was a ridiculous waste of space for one person—Now she was fucking grateful for this spacious comfort.
She no longer knew whether the lightheaded haze spinning in her mind came from the car’s smooth motion or the wicked stimulation of Zeran’s thumb circling her clit.
Through her lust-hazed gaze, she looked down and met his eyes—he was watching her with a knowing, possessive smile, as if to confirm that yes... she was ready.
Ready for everything he was about to do next.
But she was never ready for it—never prepared for the way Zeran tore her stockings apart in one savage pull.
Cold air from the car’s AC breezed against her exposed pussy, teasing her with its chill, a sharp contrast to the blazing heat pooling between her legs.
She was breathless with hunger.
Her thighs reflexively twitched to close, but Zeran’s strong hands pinned them apart without mercy.
"Heaven..." he muttered in a deep, primal growl before burying his face between her thighs.
The merciless stroke of his tongue delved into her, forcing her back into an arch and her head to tilt back against the leather seat.
She cried out a moan so loud, she hoped no stranger could hear it.
Zeran’s tongue moved like a man possessed, licking and devouring her like every sensitive part was mapped perfectly in his mind.
He slipped his hands beneath her bottom, gripping her hips to lock her in place, not letting her writhe away from the pleasure.