Betrayal; Savage Luna

Nora Wyatt woke feeling light and refreshed. Sunlight cut through the sheer curtains and warmed her bare skin. The scent of expensive linen and Brad’s cologne lingered in the air. It was a new day—a lovely one—and she was set to have fun, just as she always did.

She lived a healthy, carefree life.

This was how she'd been living for the past five years, ever since she'd left those who had once meant everything to her. People had proven to be nothing more than a betrayal waiting to happen. So she'd chosen solitude instead—a life with no one to bother her, no complaints from others, no disputes to settle. This was the kind of life that soothed her restless soul.

Life was simply vanity, after all. If the people she'd loved, trusted, and protected could turn against her in an instant over fabricated lies, then anything was possible. Anything could be taken from her.

That's why she lived life on her own terms.

Her sex life was no exception. It was entertaining and always on her schedule.

The men? She had several of them at her beck and call—Brad, Steven, Mike, and Hilton. She'd chosen each one specifically, and they did her bidding whenever she commanded. They were powerfully built, strong in bed, and completely devoted to her pleasure.

These men were practically like her slaves, and her power had made sure of that. But she treated them well.

If men throughout history could keep concubines, why couldn't she do the same?

She was beautiful, obscenely rich, and undeniably powerful. Her long, dark, silky hair fell like a liquid night. Her dazzling gray-blue eyes were striking, her chest full and round, her waist slender, her curves generous, and her skin almost luminous ivory. She was exceptionally intelligent, clever, and talented—a truly great catch. Every man's fantasy incarnate.

And that wasn't even accounting for the fact that she was a werewolf.

Not just any werewolf, but a powerful one with special abilities running through her veins. She carried ancient magic in her blood, gifts that set her apart from ordinary supernatural beings. She was, by any measure, extraordinary.

"Any man who stumbles across me should feel honored," she often thought. But it was a pity that she'd been betrayed and rejected for the very thing that made her special. For being exactly who she was.

She no longer sought love. Love was what had destroyed her, what had shunned and humiliated her before her own people. Now, she understood love for what it truly was—a weakness. Something for the weak, and she was no weakling. Love would never have a place in her life again.

She lived among ordinary humans now, having abandoned her werewolf world ages ago. She was like a lost and forgotten queen in an endless universe, but she'd made peace with that.

As long as they didn't know what she was, she was content.

*

*

"What should I do today, Brad?" she asked, knowing he was lying beside her. Her voice was soft and captivating, tinged with absent-minded pleasure.

All her men knew about each other—that was the agreement. If anyone harbored illusions of monogamy or exclusivity, she'd show them the door without hesitation.

It was as simple as that.

"Good morning, my queen," Brad greeted her, rolling onto his side and moving closer. He wrapped an arm around her, his touch gentle despite his obvious size.

"Lovely morning, dear," she whispered, flashing him a genuine smile.

"You have the Blue Hour fashion show today," Brad said, climbing out of bed and standing. His voice shifted to professional mode as he began listing her schedule. "You're walking the runway at eight PM."

"Oh, that's right." Nora sat up, resting her back against the headboard, the sheet cool against her skin. She slowly closed her eyes and hummed with anticipation, clearly excited about the opportunity. "I get to walk the catwalk for the world to see."

She lived for moments like these—the variety, the excitement, the constant change. She never stayed in one role too long. She might be a CEO one week, a model the next, then a waitress or a nurse, simply because she wanted to experience everything life had to offer. Her various companies scattered across the globe gave her the freedom to disappear and reappear wherever she pleased, and no one ever seemed to remember she'd been there once she was gone.

That was one of her gifts.

As Brad bent to retrieve his gray briefs from the floor, Nora found her attention caught by the sight of his naked body. His defined, sculpted muscles caught the morning light filtering through the windows.

"Is he teasing me?" she murmured to herself, feeling a familiar heat begin to bloom low in her belly. "Because if so, it's working."

She could feel herself growing wet, her body responding to the sheer masculine beauty of him. Brad was fair-skinned with blue eyes and short, dark blonde hair—hair she loved to run her fingers through during their most passionate moments. Among all her men, he was the tallest, with muscles so firm and perfectly sculpted they could rival a Greek god. She'd chosen each of them with meticulous care.

"Oh, I need it right now," she gasped aloud, loud enough for him to hear.

Brad turned at the sound, his eyes darkening with interest as he caught the hungry look on her face. Her men always slept naked, and she and Brad hadn't had sex yesterday. She'd only requested a bedtime story and cuddles—simple affection without the intensity of passion.

But today was different.

Brad knew he wouldn't get another night with her for at least five days. If she decided to skip him entirely and move on to one of the others, it could be even longer. He wanted her, needed her, and understood exactly what he was doing as he let his briefs fall back to the floor.

Brad was different from the others in subtle ways. Yes, looks mattered, but personality and presence mattered more. And Brad had both in abundance.

He was unique in how he asked for what he wanted. He would never demand—that would end things immediately. Instead, he used his charm, his innate sensuality, his way of silently asking permission with just a look. He knew that getting Nora to agree to anything was difficult. Unless, of course, it was her idea in the first place.

That's why the cooing method came so naturally to him.

Nora appeared kind and easy-going on the surface, almost delicate at times. But cross her, and you'd discover she was a force to be reckoned with—dangerous and fierce and utterly unforgiving.

Brad approached the bed slowly, his eyes locked with hers. He climbed back onto the mattress but made no move to touch her first. He knew better than to take the initiative. One wrong move, and she'd shut him down completely. So he waited, patient and respectful, for her majesty to make the first move.

And she did.

She slowly raised her hand and cupped his cheeks, then roughly pulled him closer and kissed him—passionately, hungrily, fiercely—while Brad groaned in pleasure against her lips.

"Perfect, moan for me," she breathed through the kiss, her demand making him groan even louder.

He brought his hand forward, cupping her bare breast, his thumb brushing over her hardened nipple. Her nipples were already hard as stone—a sign that she was enjoying this, that her body was ready for him.

She loved morning sex.

He took one of her nipples between his fingers and twirled it slowly, earning a moan that made him grow even harder. Encouraged by her sounds of pleasure, he kissed his way down her neck, along her collarbone, and lower still until he reached her breast. He teased her nipple with his teeth, gentle but firm, drawing out more delicious sounds from her.

"Yes, I love it. Keep going," she commanded breathlessly, her body already responding to his touch. He moved even faster, driven by the encouragement in her voice.

She could picture him in her mind's eye—this powerful man, completely eager and devoted, like an excited dog wagging its tail for her approval.

"Fuck, that feels so good," she cried out as he slipped a finger into her wet, greedy core. She spread her legs wider, giving him better access, wanting more of him.

He added another finger, then another, drawing out more moans with each movement.

"No, wait," she commanded suddenly, her voice impatient and demanding. "Just put your dick in. Now."

He obeyed immediately, withdrawing his fingers and replacing them with his hard length. The moment their bodies connected, he groaned deeply. The warmth and tightness of her felt incredible, almost too good, and he had to grip the sheets to keep himself from finishing right then.

She wanted more from him, needed to hear those sounds of pleasure, so she spanked his ass hard. The sharp sting drove him to move faster, to give her what she wanted, and his groans grew louder with each thrust.

She loved his ass—the way it flexed with each movement, the firmness of it. She was already thinking about next time, about taking him in different ways, about pushing boundaries. But for now, this was perfect.

She rode the pleasure, her body moving in perfect rhythm with his, her moans echoing through the bedroom. With her head thrown back, eyes closed, she felt the tension building, coiling tighter and tighter until—

"Yes!" she cried out, climaxing hard. Her body convulsed around him, the intense contractions sending him over the edge. He spilled inside her with a groan of satisfaction, his body shaking with the force of his release.

They lay tangled together for a moment, both breathing heavily, both satisfied.

She would absolutely dominate that runway today. She had everything she needed to be—confidence, power, and the kind of satisfaction that only great sex could provide.