The Alpha CEO’s Unloved Wife

Angelique‘s Seduction 

Heathridge brought Jane’s dinner up to her room on a tray.

“Oh, thank you,” she said, flustered by the kindness.

“My pleasure, madam,” he smiled warmly as he closed the door behind him.

She sat on the couch in her satin pyjamas and watched a foolish television romantic comedy whilst she ate and wondered what Baron did for his meal. She doubted that he ate in the dining room with the drunk women.

When she tiptoed out onto the landing in curiosity, she could hear their drunken laughter spilling out in raucous tones, but no male voices.

It was late when they left, and Jane watched the last tail-lights recede down the driveway with relief. She took the tray down to the kitchen so that Heathridge did not have to collect it in the morning, and did the dishes, before creeping back through the house.

Baron’s voice from his office drew her attention. His door was open, and through it she could see him in his wing back chair, his hair dishevelled now and trying to reform its curls, and a glass of whiskey in his hand.

“Oh, poor baby.” Angelique purred, and

Jane saw her cross the open door, wearing only her underwear, red and lacey. “Stuck in his office all afternoon and night.” She placed her foot on the chair between Baron’s thighs, her toes teasing his c-ck. “I have come to make it up to you.”

what Jane had fantasized about doing, setting a knee to either side of Baron’s hips, and lifting whilst she released his c-ck from his trousers. Baron’s eyes changed focus, over Angelique’s shoulder, meeting Jane’s and she saw the shift of his expression, but

her bare feet silent over the marble tile, up the stairs and into the room that wasn’t hers but to sleep

pick her up

wolf, master of his home and the women he kept in it, would feel the need to sneak in and out of his wife’s bed, and

fall back asleep, and threw back the covers in surrender, dressing in running gear. As she made her way down the stairs, Heathridge returning for the day

as always. Heathridge was a beta, and technically outranked her in the pack hierarchy, but socially

asked for your room to be

“Changed?” She paused, confused.

had not realised that you had chosen the blue

nothing away. They both knew that she had not

your possessions to be transferred,” he told

she agreed. What did it matter which room she slept in, none of

opened them for her. On the main road, she moved from a jog into a sprint, running until her legs

she was, and what that made her to the pack. She either surrendered to

rarer rank, the title often wrongly used to designate those who fell out of favour or were junior, a true omega was a submissive werewolf, the opposite to

omega’s existence had the potential to be a happy one. The right alpha or beta would value what omega gave, they would find satisfaction in an omega’s submission, and it would trigger in them a fierce