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.”

“You will probably be wanting to use the bathroom,” he said and began to un-work

had other plans. He inhaled and grinned. “Or maybe not,” he commented sliding his hands up her calf to her knees and then from

bed between her legs, and wrapping them around his hips as he brought himself closer so that the tip of

that his c-ck pierced her. “Oh, god,” his eyes

it is

her legs around his waist, crossing her ankles against his arse, pulling him tighter to her. She could feel the flex of his arse 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 them shift beneath the palm of her hands, to stroke up over the tight

and sweat dewed his forehead as he slaked them both with his body, and she came, crying out against

between them, and reached up lazily to release the knots tying

her bed between their wedding and this estrus, he had come late in the night, often waking her, pulling her nightgown up and pushing himself into her, and then left as soon as he had spilled his seed into her. A perfunctory mating that had

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

long and half-staggered across the room into the bathroom, gratefully closing and locking the door behind her. She used the toilet and then started