Ruin Me, Alpha Daddy

Mona's POV:

"What do you mean Marcello hasn't slept with you in months?" My best friend, Keisha, froze, the whiskey bottle hovering over our glasses. Her brows knitted together in pure confusion.

Yep.

You heard right. As pathetic as it sounds, my husband—the formidable Alpha of the Blackwood Pack—hadn't touched me in months. We'd only been intimate once, right after the wedding, and I couldn't remember a single time since.

Our marriage was an alliance, plain and simple. Marcello and I were childhood friends, heirs to powerful packs. But when rogues slaughtered our people and stripped our resources, my pack was left with nothing but a name.

That's when my parents proposed the deal.

They believed our union would forge a powerful alliance, restoring our pack's strength the moment I bore Marcello's pups. I was hesitant at first, but the sight of my people struggling… I gave in.

What's the worst that could happen? I'd thought.

Turns out, the worst was a cold, sexless marriage with an Alpha who seemed to forget I was his wife.

I let out a heavy sigh and dropped onto the couch, the weight of it all pressing down.

"I don't know what I'm doing wrong, Keish," I confessed, taking the glass she finally handed me. "I know Marcello's a busy man and— "

"Girl please." Her face was a masterclass in calling my bluff. "There is no man on this earth too busy for a trip to pound town. Unless…"

"Unless what?" I asked, my brow furrowing.

"Unless he's already getting it from another woman."

I burst out laughing. If there was one thing I was sure of, it was Marcello's fidelity. I'd checked his messages. He barely even acknowledged other women.

"What's so funny?" Keisha asked, laughing along but looking confused.

"Scratch that one off the list. There is no other woman, trust me."

"Hmm." She hummed, tapping her glass thoughtfully. "Or maybe… you just need to spice things up a little bit."

She shrugged, taking a slow sip of her whiskey.

"Spice things up?" I repeated, my interest piqued.

"I'm talking sex toys, roleplay, greeting him at the door in nothing but lingerie…" she replied, gesturing wildly as if the list was endless. "You know, all the good stuff."

"Sex toys?" I grimaced, feeling a flush of embarrassment. "I don't know if I'm up for that, Keish."

"Mona," she said, her tone shifting to one of stern practicality. "This isn't about what you're 'up for.' Do you want a child or not?"

"I do," I sighed, the admission laced with self-pity.

"Then, you need to spice things up."

By the time I left Keisha's house, my mind was made up.

I drove straight to a discreet adult store, tucked between a pharmacy and a closed bakery, my heart pounding the entire time I browsed. I left with a small black bag of toys I couldn't believe I'd just bought, and a red lace set that made me blush by merely holding it.

My husband was due home in a few hours, so I rushed back, prepared his favorite meal, and then retreated to the bathroom.

I took a long, steamy shower, scrubbing my skin with my most expensive oils until it glowed. The hot water ran over my breasts, down my stomach, and…ngh. I closed my eyes and let myself imagine it was his hands.

Marcello's broad palms sliding over my ribs. His mouth at my neck, his beard scraping my skin. His voice, low and rough, telling me exactly how long he'd been wanting me.

My nipples tightened under the spray. I slid my own hand lower, down my stomach, over the smooth skin I'd shaved with such care, and my thighs trembled. I was already slick, my cunt clenching around nothing but the thought of him filling me. It had been so long that even imagining it made me ache.

Oh dear goddess , I couldn't wait.

I forced myself to stop before I came undone, my breath ragged against the tiles.

I had to save the special moment for him.

I stepped out and dried myself off, rubbing the vanilla lotion over every inch of myself, I needed my scent to intoxicate him before he even touched me.

I had only just slid into the lingerie when—

DING DONG.

Fuck, he was here.

I gave the lace cups of my lingerie a final, nervous adjustment just before opening the door, ensuring the curve of my breasts was impossible to miss.

"Happy Anniversary!" I chirped, my voice unnaturally high as I threw my arms around him.

He offered a soft smile and pressed a brief kiss to my cheek. My skin warmed. Seemed like he was in a good mood.

"Happy anniversary, baby," he murmured, already moving past me into the house.

I locked the door, my heart thrumming. "I've missed you so much," I gushed, following him as he headed toward the dining table.

He turned to look at me, a faint, curious laugh on his lips. "You seem really excited today. Is it just the anniversary, or is there something else?"

I closed the distance between us, reaching up to brush my fingers along his jaw. "I've just missed you," I whispered, my touch trailing from his beard to graze his lips.

"Mona—"

"Shhh," I hushed him, pressing a finger to his mouth while I gently took his suitcase and set it aside. Then, I hooked my fingers under the strap of my lingerie. The flimsy red lace pooled at my feet, leaving me completely naked. "It's been too long, hasn't it?"

He recoiled as if burned.

"Mona," he said, shaking his head as he stepped back from my touch. "I'm really tired today."

"But it's our anniversary—"

"I'll make it up to you," he cut me off, the smile on his face not quite reaching his eyes. "I just need to freshen up. Let's try another day, okay?"

Again?

My heart plummeted to the floor alongside my lingerie. I stood there, utterly naked and utterly shattered, as he cupped my cheek, pressed a dismissive kiss to my forehead, and walked away.

The red lace was a puddle of shame at my feet. My fingers trembled as I bent down to pick it up , the simple act feeling like the most difficult thing I'd ever done. A hot tear splashed onto the floor, then another.

I had failed.

Maybe it had never been about spicing things up. Maybe it was just..me.

Just as the thought took hold, a sharp DING cut through the silence.

My head snapped toward the sound. It had come from his suitcase, the one I'd placed on the table.

It had to be someone from work. What more could they possibly want from him? Hadn't they stressed him out enough already, costing me what was supposed to be our night?

I snatched the phone, ready to tell them he was unavailable. But as my fingers closed around it, a new message flashed across the screen from Beta Kael—his most trusted assistant.

Beta Kael: You felt so good tonight. I can't wait to see you again.

Tonight? So good?

A cold, sickening dread began to pool in my stomach. My thumb moved on its own, tapping the notification, opening their private chat.

And there it was.

Photos. Dozens. My husband and Beta Kael tangled in hotel sheets. A video, its thumbnail frozen on my husband's face, head thrown back, his hand wrapped around his hardened length as he moaned.

My vision swam.

My hands shook, as I scrolled up, past the photos, into the words.

Beta Kael: Thank you for not letting your wife ruin this.

Marcello: You don't need to be worried about that. She'd never suspect.

Kael: She's sweet, I'll give her that. Stupid, but sweet.

Marcello: That's what makes it easy.

Kael: Just give her the pup already so the pack leaves you alone. So we can finally be together.

Marcello: A few more months baby. Then, we can stop hiding.

The world didn't just tilt; it shattered.

My husband was gay.