The Alpha CEO’s Unloved Wife

A Submissive Omega 

The wind blew through the window, pricking the hairs to standing across her body, causing her nipples to pebble. The cold was a welcome counterbalance to the heat that was building within her again as she watched Baron.

He sat and picked blueberries out of a bowl from the tray, utterly comfortable in his own skin, unselfconscious, knowing, she thought, that he was breathtakingly gorgeous. He ate a single berry at a time, frowning thoughtfully out the broken window, though what he saw out there to displease him, she did not know, as the extensive gardens were beautifully manicured and up-kept by a team of gardeners.

“We will have to change rooms,” he decided. “There is a storm coming in, and someone will need to board this window up to stop rain damage. I can’t very well have that done with my wife naked, in heat, and tied to the bed, can 1?” His eyebrow lifted in amusement.

He set the bowl down and found his trousers, moving into the other room and pulling the bell pull. After a moment, there was a knock on the door.

“Yes, sir?” Heathridge asked.

“I need another room prepared and someone to fix this window before the rain comes this evening.” Baron told him. “Let me know when the room is ready, and I will move my wife.”

“Of course, sir.”

the bedroom. “You will probably be wanting to use the bathroom,” he said and began to un-work the knots around Jane’s

and grinned. “Or maybe not,” he commented sliding his hands up her calf to her knees and then from knees to rest against the curve of her inner thigh,

before he removed his hand and untied the other ankle. “I do like this,” he commented, crawling up the bed between her legs, and wrapping them around his hips as he brought himself closer

hips forward so that his c-ck pierced her. “Oh, god,” his eyes closed as

is a

muscles against her heels as he thrusted and longed to run her hands up his stomach where the muscles tensed and released with his movements, to feel

golden-brown of his eyes caught between the sharp points of his eyelashes as they narrowed in bliss and sweat dewed his forehead as he slaked them both with his body, and she came, crying out against the gag, the

up lazily to release the knots tying her wrists to the bed. She tugged the gag

either side of her head, palm up and fingers curled inwards, with him over her. Now that she was free to touch him, she was too scared to do so, she admitted to herself. The times he had come to her bed between their wedding and this estrus, he had come late in the night, often waking her,

not know if she could touch him and was frightened of being rebuffed if she did, and so she kept her hands to herself and just lay beneath him, silent, until he groaned and lifted from her. “Go to the bathroom,” he told her. “Then

from being bound so long and half-staggered across the room into the bathroom, gratefully closing and locking the door behind her. She used the