The CEO Uncle's Little Sweet Wife

"Emily Johnson, move a bit more naturally. Yeah, just like that, hold it."

Emily stood in the hallway, wearing an ivory bridesmaid dress, adjusting her posture as the photographer directed. The delicate lace on her dress swayed gently with her movements.

She was helping out her best friend from the student council, who had roped her into playing the role of a bride for a photoshoot.

Just as Emily found the right angle, the door behind her burst open.

Before she could turn around, a strong, unyielding grip seized her wrist. In a whirlwind, she was lifted and slung over someone's shoulder.

"Not bad," a deep, lazy voice rumbled above her. "You knew I didn't have the patience for those women today, so you prepared a bride to tempt me."

Emily was stunned. She struggled to lift her head and saw James Smith's sharp jawline and the wicked curve of his lips.

"Who are you? Let me go!" Emily struggled to get down from James's shoulder.

James ignored her, striding confidently into the suite at the end of the hallway.

As the door slammed shut behind them, Emily was thrown onto the large bed.

She scrambled to sit up and finally got a good look at the man before her.

James's tanned skin had a cool sheen, his short hair was neat, and his deep eyes were like dark pools, drawing her in.

James unbuttoned two buttons of his shirt, revealing his defined collarbone. His eyes, dark and intense, burned with a predatory heat.

The desire in James's gaze made Emily panic.

Olivia Smith had said the sponsor was a balding man in his fifties, a sleazy middle-aged guy she should avoid.

But this man, with his movie-star looks and physique, was nothing like that description.

And this wasn't part of the plan.

What was going on?

"You..." Emily began to ask who he was, but James was already leaning down, his overpowering scent enveloping her.

James's kiss was forceful and demanding, silencing her protests.

The sound of tearing fabric filled the room as he pulled at her dress. Emily's heart pounded, and she tried to push him away, but her strength was no match for his. Her dress was soon in tatters.

Ignoring her cries and struggles, James forced her legs apart and thrust into her.

The pain was excruciating, and tears streamed down Emily's face. She pounded on James's shoulders, but her resistance only seemed to excite him more.

Their naked bodies intertwined, reflected in the floor-to-ceiling windows.

James's eyes were fixed on her bouncing breasts, his movements relentless, each thrust deeper than the last.

Unsatisfied with the position, James flipped Emily over, making her kneel on the bed as he entered her from behind.

Emily's vagina was filled completely, and with each thrust, more vaginal discharge was produced. Her moans and James's heavy breathing filled the room.

As she climaxed, her vaginal muscles contracted, gripping his penis tightly. The intense sensation made James quicken his pace, thrusting harder until he finally released his semen.

Emily lost track of time, only knowing they both collapsed from exhaustion.

When she finally woke, the room was dim, the air heavy with the aftermath of their passion.

She moved slightly, feeling sore all over, especially the discomfort in her vagina bringing tears to her eyes.

Looking down, Emily gasped.

The bridesmaid dress was shredded, lying in pieces on the floor, diamonds and pearls scattered everywhere.

This high-end dress was something Olivia had rented at a steep price. How was she going to pay for it now?

Anger surged through her as she turned to the still-sleeping James.