After tying the knot, I pulled out every trick in the book to seduce my husband. Yet all he ever did was gently nudge up the bridge of his glasses, offering a mild, infuriating smile: “I’m sorry, sweetheart, but I have zero sex drive. I’m afraid I’m going to disappoint you.”
Fast-forward to our first wedding anniversary.
Armed with a bottle of industrial-strength aphrodisiac, I came home fully prepared to take him by force. But right as I was about to drop the magic potion, the System shrieked inside my head: WARNING! Target mismatch! You seduced the wrong damn guy!
A surge of pure, ecstatic relief washed over me. I turned to him, slapped a divorce paper on the table, and threw a final, venomous parting shot straight to his face: “You’re completely useless in bed. I’m done wasting my time. We’re over.”
…Until he locked me away in his private sanctuary.
With the corners of his eyes flushed a dangerous, feverish red, his ragged breath hit my neck as he begged on trembling knees: “Baby… look at me, please. I’m fixed now. I swear I’ll make you feel a thousand times better than he ever could.”