รักท่านอ๋อง...ช่างหวานล้ำ

“Fuck, yes. Like that, ride me, don’t stop. Good girl!” His rough palm rested on the side of my hips, his fingers digging into my skin like I belonged to him. He moved in slow circles, savoring every single motion I made. I bent over, placing my palm on his chest, and locked eyes with him. Then I began to rock harder, faster.

I watched his head fall back, his eyes rolling upward as he groaned, biting his lower lip. I tightened my grip around him, sinking into the rhythm with a precise motion. My hips swiveled, the familiar ache and pleasure mixing in a bitter cocktail.

“Fuck, yeah, Angel. Yes!” He called out my name—one that wasn’t mine. One that reminded me I was nothing more than a tool, a slut.

I knew exactly how to make all men bend, how to reduce them to trembling messes with nothing but my body. After all, I had started this job at thirteen—fucking different men, learning how to perfect my skills, all while drowning in a growing debt.

His breath soon became erratic, his body tensing beneath me. He pinched me harder, a clear sign he was nearing the edge. I slid up his length with a practiced movement, then sank back down, feeling his full length stretch me out. My body moved on autopilot, the same motions repeated like clockwork, each thrust, lift, and rock of my hips was now as routine as breathing.

“Angel, yes! Rock me harder. Your pussy’s so tight,” he moaned, his gasps quickening.

I clenched around him, knowing it would send him spiraling.

He let out a guttural cry, his fingers digging into my hips as he came inside me. I didn’t flinch. I didn’t even break my rhythm. I kept riding him, faster and deeper, until his gasps turned into broken cries of pleasure.

The pack messenger—the one closest to the Alpha. He was rich, and that was why I fucked him. I despised the Alpha, and every man who swore loyalty to him made my skin crawl. But I needed money. A lot of it.

His breath slowed, and he sighed, still caught in the aftershocks of his release. “Angel, you’re so good,” he muttered, his voice thick with exhaustion.

I gave a bitter chuckle. He was just like every other man—no different, no better. Just another night, another transaction.

“If not for the Alpha’s portion tomorrow, I wouldn't have to leave you now,” he said, pulling me closer and grabbing my breasts roughly. Just like every other man, no respect for my body—just a vessel for his desires.

“Alpha’s portion?” I asked, feigning curiosity.

He nodded, smiling like I was a fool.

“Don’t tell anyone this,” he warned, his voice low.

I leaned in, listening carefully.

“We all know the Alpha is heirless. He’s tried with so many women, but nothing. Recently, he invited a witch. She prepared a spell for him—a potion. The woman who drinks it and sleeps with him will get pregnant. It’s a one-time use only.”

My mind raced as I processed his words.

“What woman?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

“The Alpha’s sister is supposed to prepare a virgin for him. The potion is the key. It’s how the Alpha will recognize her.”

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. The man who had destroyed my pack, murdered my parents, and sold me into slavery was going to get a chance at an heir. I had to stop it. I wouldn’t let it happen.

I took action immediately. Stealing the potion was easy enough. All it took was using my body.

I rode him to exhaustion, and when he finally released, I took the potion. It was my ticket to the Alpha’s recognition.

The next day, I arrived at the pack house, the veil covering my face, the potion securely hidden. The maids greeted me warmly, bowing their heads as if they liked me.

They called me the chosen one though and it made my heart jingle.

Yes, I was. I had come to meet the man I despised most in this world—the one who had destroyed everything I once held dear. The Alpha.

I could still see him—his eyes cold, his lips curved in a smile as he slit my father’s throat without hesitation. Now, I was going to take away his only chance at an heir.

I would flee after tonight.

I was bathed in rose water by the maids, their gentle hands scrubbing away the grime of my past.

“You’ve got scars on your back,” one of them observed as she traced her fingers over the fading marks.

“Yeah,” I muttered, my voice flat. “I stayed with wicked women. They forced me to do things I didn’t want to do.”

“Oh, you were a stubborn child,” the maid chuckled.

I kept quiet, my teeth clenched. If only she knew what I had been through. How much pain I had endured just to survive.

When the bath was over, they draped me in a soft, clean robe and left me alone in the room.

“Wait here,” one of the maids said. “The Alpha will arrive soon.”

The door clicked shut, and I was left in the silence.

I swallowed hard, then sat on the white silk bed.

It had been fourteen years since I’d seen Alpha Leonardo. Fourteen years since he raided my pack, killed my parents, and sold me into slavery. I could still remember every detail—the sound of my father’s throat being slit, the feeling of my life slipping away as I was sold into the hands of human traffickers.

I wrapped my arms around my body instinctively. The habit had stuck with me—the need to protect myself. I could almost feel the weight of the memories pressing down on me.

Then, I heard it—the sound of footsteps. His presence was undeniable, his aura heavy as it seeped through the cracks in the door.

I could feel him.

Swallowing, I braced myself.

“Where is she?” His voice was sharp, cutting through the silence.

I straightened in my seat, my hands still clutching the sides of my robe. I didn’t move.

I wasn’t ready to face him, not with the memories piercing my heart.