Evil MC's NTR Harem

Grace's heart pounded so loudly she could hear it in her ears.

She wanted to run, to escape this nightmare before it truly began, but deep down, she knew there was no way out.

Still, she tried to bargain.

"This will be the first and last time, Ross," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Promise me."

Silence.

Then Ross threw his head back and laughed—a loud, mocking sound that filled the entire room.

It wasn't the laughter of amusement but of sheer disbelief, as if she had just told the funniest joke he had ever heard.

When he finally looked back at her, his smirk was sharper than ever.

"You seem to be forgetting something, Grace." His voice was no longer playful; it was edged with something darker, something absolute.

"I make the rules. I own you now. I take you when I want, however I want, wherever I want."

Her stomach twisted violently, but he wasn't done.

"If you can't accept that—" he gestured toward the door with an almost lazy flick of his wrist "—then leave. Walk out that door right now."

Grace's fingers curled into fists at her sides.

Ross tilted his head, watching her like a cat playing with a trapped mouse.

"Of course, if you do, I'll make sure your dumb husband is sitting in a jail cell by tomorrow morning." His smirk widened as he leaned forward slightly, his tone turning almost conversational.

"And trust me, he won't just rot there—I'll make sure he suffers. Every. Single. Day. For the rest of his miserable life."

His words hit her like a physical blow.

Her breath caught in her throat, and her body trembled.

Silent tears welled up in her eyes and spilled over, trailing down her cheeks.

She made no move to wipe them away.

Ross didn't rush her. He simply leaned back, watching, waiting, knowing exactly what choice she would make.

A dozen breaths passed.

And then, as if something inside her had finally shattered beyond repair, Grace moved.

Her hands trembled as she reached for the hem of her dress.

Slowly, hesitantly, she began to pull it up, exposing inch after inch of her bare skin.

Her movements were stiff, mechanical, as if she were merely a puppet going through the motions.

Piece by piece, she stripped away her dignity, her pride, her very sense of self.

Ross's smirk never faded.

Grace's naked body was fully exposed, and the sight made Ross instantly hard.

She had a perfect hourglass figure, her creamy-white skin flawless, smooth, and utterly inviting.

His eyes roamed over her, drinking in every inch—the gentle curve of her waist, the swell of her hips, the firm, mouthwatering roundness of her breasts.

She was exquisite, and the primal hunger in him flared like wildfire.

He had an overwhelming urge to sink his teeth into her soft flesh, to leave red marks on her pale skin, to claim her in ways her pathetic husband never could.

Grace trembled under his gaze, shame and fear warring in her eyes.

She instinctively tried to cover herself, but it was futile.

Her breasts were simply too large to be hidden, and the more she tried to shield them, the more tantalizing she became.

Her arms pressed against the heavy, luscious curves of her chest, barely managing to cover her stiffening nipples while the full, pillowy flesh threatened to spill from her grasp.

The motion only emphasized their fullness, making Ross's desire intensify.

Tears welled in her eyes, but Ross remained unmoved. Such things didn't matter.

Soon enough, he knew he would make her moan and writhe beneath him, pleasure drowning out whatever reservations she had left.

Soon, he would make her come over and over again until the only name on her lips was his, until every thought of her husband faded into nothingness.

"Come." His voice was deep, commanding, leaving no room for argument.

Grace hesitated, her fingers trembling at her sides.

For a brief moment, it seemed as if she might refuse, but her body betrayed her.

Slowly, reluctantly, she moved toward the bed. Each hesitant step sent a delicious shiver through her body, her pale thighs clenching, her breathing unsteady.

She climbed onto the bed beside him, pressing herself against the mattress as if seeking refuge in its softness.

Ross studied her for a moment, amused by her resistance. She refused to straddle him, refused to give in so easily—but that was fine. He wasn't concerned. He had all the time in the world.

For now, he would let her keep her fragile pride. Let her lie there, stubborn and uncertain. But it wouldn't last.

Eventually, she would part those long, gorgeous legs for him. Eventually, her body would surrender completely, and when it did, there would be no turning back.

Her pussy would be his to claim, and by the time he was done, she wouldn't just submit—she would beg for more.

"Perfect. I knew you'd be worth every bit of effort and time I gave."

Ross smiled lewdly, his dark eyes drinking in the sight of Grace's ripe, naked body beside him.

She was breathtaking.

Every curve, every inch of her pale, trembling flesh, was a feast for his eyes.

The way her full breasts gently rose and fell with her unsteady breathing, the soft, helpless tremor in her thighs—she was a vision of unwilling submission, and it only made him want her more.

Slowly, he moved over her, covering her delicate form with his own.

Even with his clothes still on, he could feel the heat radiating from her body, a silent invitation whether she accepted it or not.

His weight pressed her into the mattress, her soft flesh molding against him.

She was warm—so warm—and the scent of her skin, laced with the faintest traces of sweat and fear, only fueled his growing hunger.

Grace, however, did not react.

She remained silent, her lips pressed into a tight line, her eyes squeezed shut as if willing herself to disappear.