Evil MC's NTR Harem

PAK!

Then, a sharp crack. A slap, hard and resounding, cut through the air like a physical blow.

Derek felt the impact, a searing wave of pain that threatened to unhinge him. His head snapped back, but a strong hand, Brandon's, held him steady.

He was forced to endure, to witness the full, horrific spectacle. Derek, his eyes wide with horror, was witnessing the violation of his mother.

Not just the physical act, but the degradation of her dignity, her vulnerability laid bare for all to see. He was trapped, a silent observer in a scene of profound betrayal and utter devastation.

The image seared itself into Derek's memory, a haunting display of betrayal and pain.

The scene played out in agonizing slow motion, the moans, the touches, the terror, all fused into a single, horrifying nightmare.

"Ohhhhmmm…" A low, trembling moan slipped from Iris's lips, her body arching slightly as though attempting to escape the intensity of the sensations overwhelming her.

Her hips lifted slowly, a reflexive movement that seemed like an attempt to pull away.

But the truth was evident to anyone watching—her movements weren't driven by resistance but by the unbearable pleasure flooding her senses.

She was helpless against it, and it became even more apparent when Ross's fingers finally found her clit.

"Ahhhhhhh…" she gasped, the sound muffled by the kiss Ross had sealed her into. Her lips parted slightly under his, her breath catching as the pleasure spiked.

Her body trembled beneath him, her hands gripping at the sheets in a futile effort to anchor herself. The kiss was relentless, a constant reminder of his dominance, and her response betrayed her entirely.

She was no longer in control; her body was speaking louder than her mind could protest.

Each touch, each calculated stroke of Ross's fingers, sent shockwaves rippling through her. Time seemed to stretch, every second of his attention drawn out until it felt like an eternity.

And then it happened—an entirely new sensation. A single finger pressed against her entrance before slipping inside, stretching her tight, dripping walls in a way that made her gasp louder than before.

"Nooooo…" she whimpered, the sound trembling as if it carried all her remaining resistance. It felt as if cold water had been poured over her, momentarily pulling her out of the haze of pleasure.

Her head tilted back, breaking free of Ross's demanding kiss, as though trying to reclaim even the smallest shred of control. But it was futile—the deed was already done, and there was no undoing it.

"Ohhhhh… stop… please," Iris begged, her voice cracking with desperation. Her words, however, rang hollow even to her own ears.

Her body had betrayed her completely, her pussy tightening around Ross's finger in a way that seemed to invite him deeper.

No matter how much she hated herself in that moment, she couldn't deny the raw, primal desire overtaking her.

It had too long—agonizing, lonely times—since her husband had last touched her like this.

The memory of neglect was a bitter one, and her body now reacted as though starved, desperate to make up for lost time. Your journey continues with My Virtual Library Empire

Her slick folds were soaked, drenched with her arousal, as if eagerly preparing for more.

The way her pussy pulsed around Ross's finger, practically begging for something larger, firmer, and more relentless, made her stomach churn with conflicting emotions.

Her mind screamed at her to fight, to push him away, to end this. But her body had its own language, and it was speaking far louder.

Each stroke of Ross's finger, each calculated press against her sensitive walls, sent her spiraling further into a haze of pleasure she didn't want to feel but couldn't deny.

Her breathing quickened, shallow gasps escaping her as Ross leaned in again, his lips grazing the corner of her mouth. "Stop?" he whispered, his voice low and taunting.

"Then why does your body say otherwise?"

Iris's chest rose and fell rapidly as she struggled to find words, her mind clouded with sensations that left her powerless.

The warmth between her legs was unbearable, her arousal pooling and dripping with every deliberate motion of Ross's hand.

Her head fell back against the pillow, her moans escaping unchecked now, the war between her mind and body clearly lost.

She hated this, hated herself for succumbing, but there was no denying the truth—Ross had complete control, and she was utterly at his mercy.

"Whishhh." The sound, a low, almost musical hum, echoed through the room as Ross's finger danced across Iris's pussy and clit.

Each lewd sound was a tiny explosion of anticipation, a prelude to the crescendo that was about to erupt.

"Whishhh." The pace quickened, the pressure intensifying. Iris's body arched, her breath hitched in ragged gasps.

The air thickened with the unspoken tension, the palpable energy building to a fever pitch.

"Whishhh."

The final, explosive lecherous noise was a prelude to the inevitable release. Iris's eyes closed, her body convulsing in a torrent of pleasure.

A wave of liquid fire erupted, cascading over Ross's finger, coating it in a vibrant, hot essence. She surrendered to the exquisite agony, reveling in the sensation.

It was a symphony of pleasure, a spectacle of raw, untamed passion.

"AHHHHHHHHHH! Coming!" Her voice, a strangled cry of ecstasy, filled the room. The release was complete, leaving a shimmering trail of liquid gold clinging to Ross's finger.

She reveled in the display, savoring the aftermath of the powerful release. It was clear that her body, starved of proper attention, had a hidden reservoir of passion, a potent force now unleashed.

Ross withdrew his finger, a satisfied smirk playing on his lips. He licked and slurped at the dampness clinging to his fingertips, a clear demonstration of his pleasure.

He looked at Iris, her form shuddering, her face buried in her arms, tears tracing paths down her cheeks.

Ross gazed at Iris, a quiet sense of pride swelling within him as he took in her true beauty.

Iris Davies was truly something else!