My Mate Mr. Lycan

Somehow Ehi had begun to hate her husband. Every single thing about him grated on her nerves: the way he smelled, the way he looked, the way he smiled like a fool whenever he drank beer. Even the word "babe" slipping out of his mouth made her stomach churn, and his incessant snoring at night was enough to make her want to smother him with a pillow. After five years of marriage, he had become a walking irritation, a lifeless shell that reminded her of someone plucked from The Walking Dead.

There were times when he would go to work, and she could indulge in a petty revenge that brought her twisted satisfaction. She would take his toothbrush, dip it into the toilet, and scrub along every edge, inside and out. She would let it linger there before rinsing it just enough, her lips curling into a vengeful smirk. Later, she’d hand it to him with a saccharine, “Don’t forget to brush, hon,” and wait for his oblivious “Okay” to echo back. It was wrong, she knew it was, but he brought out the worst in her.

The inevitable question echoed in her mind: why had she married him? The answer was always the same. She had been 18, young, foolish, and pregnant. What she’d mistaken for love was nothing more than an illusion. By the time she miscarried, the damage was done. For years, she clung to the idea that love could fix everything, but reality had shattered that fantasy. She was stuck.

Then, Jacob Warner moved in next door. Jacob was everything her husband wasn’t. A redhead with a lean, toned body that seemed sculpted by the gods, he was newly divorced, childless, and had a habit of mowing his lawn shirtless every Friday afternoon. He had freckles that dusted his chest and arms, and the way his muscles flexed under the sun made her pulse quicken. To her, he looked like Michael Fassbender, a walking dream, and it was impossible not to want him. Fridays became her favorite. While her husband was off somewhere else, Jacob would push his lawnmower across his yard, sweat dripping down his glistening abs. She’d watch him from the slats of her blinds, her body igniting with a hunger she hadn’t felt in years.

Her thoughts became consumed by him, fantasies overtaking her nights as she lay restless in bed, her husband snoring beside her. She wanted to know everything about Jacob: the sound of his laugh, the way he smelled after a shower, the taste of his lips after a drink. She imagined his hands, rough but tender, running over her skin, tracing lines of fire wherever he touched. Her body ached for him. Her marriage was a desert. They hadn’t touched each other in months, and the nights she spent pleasuring herself were becoming a dull and frustrating routine. She craved the heat of someone else’s body, the intensity of being desired, of being taken without restraint. Jacob embodied everything she longed for.

The secluded neighborhood was tucked away between forests and mountains. It was the kind of place where you could lose yourself in the serenity of nature, far from judgmental eyes. The backyard stretched endlessly into dense woods, with no neighbors in sight, just trees that whispered secrets to the wind and the rugged peaks that stood as silent witnesses to everything. Her house sat adjacent to Jacob's, separated only by a sliver of green grass and a shared view of the wilderness. His home was simple yet striking, with wide glass windows that mirrored the twilight sky. 

So one day, when the sky became cold and the wind pursued the rain, without thinking, she grabbed the first shirt she could find, threw it over her bare chest, and left the house barefoot. She crossed the yard silently, her feet pressing into the cool grass. 

When she reached Jacob’s door, she hesitated for a moment. Her pulse hammered in her ears as she raised her hand to knock. Her knuckles hadn't met the door when it was swung open. There he was, standing in the doorway, his chest bare, his intense brown eyes locking onto hers. 

In one swift motion, he grabbed her by the waist and pulled her inside, his lips crashing against hers with a hunger that left her gasping. His kiss was rough, desperate, and everything she craved. She melted into him, her fingers finding their way to his shoulders as he pushed her back against the cool glass of the window. His hands roamed her body with a raw need, tugging at the oversized shirt she wore until it fell to the floor, leaving her bare before him. The cool air hardened her nipples, and the way his eyes darkened as they roamed her made her shiver with need.

“I need your legs around me,” he murmured, his voice low and commanding. She obeyed without hesitation, wrapping her legs tightly around his waist. His hands gripped her thighs firmly, holding her in place as he pressed her even harder against the glass. She could feel the hard length of him pressing against her bare sex. She hadn’t worn any underwear.