Evil MC's NTR Harem

Jane moved like a woman possessed—completely overtaken by desire.

Her body rolled and arched, her breasts swaying with every bounce, her hands planted firmly on Ross's chest for balance.

His cock hit her just right—deep, thick, stretching her to her limit and dragging along every sensitive nerve inside her.

Her mind went blank, her thoughts melted into a single, all-consuming sensation: him.

There was nothing else.

Nothing mattered but how he filled her, how he touched her, how he looked up at her like she was the most intoxicating sight in the world.

Jane couldn't remember why she'd come here anymore.

Whatever purpose had brought her to Ross had been devoured by lust and sensation.

All that remained now was the need—the urgent, aching need to come again and again.

And Ross made sure she did.

"Ahhh—ahhh—Ross!" she cried out, her voice high and broken as she neared the edge again.

Her thighs burned, her cunt tightened, and her movements became erratic, frantic.

He could feel her fluttering around him, her body trembling with the signs of another orgasm.

He smirked and reached up to tease her nipples, rolling and pinching them just right.

"Come for me, Jane," he murmured. "Let it all go."

And she did.

"ROSSSSS!"

She screamed his name like a confession, like a surrender, as her body went rigid.

Her orgasm hit her like a shockwave—violent, overwhelming, uncontrollable.

Her entire body seized as her pussy clenched down on him with incredible force, and then she squirted—hot, wet, and wild—all over Ross's cock and lower stomach.

Her release gushed out of her in pulses, soaking his skin and the sheets beneath them.

She collapsed forward onto his chest, her body shaking with the aftershocks, her breath coming in short, broken gasps.

Her hair stuck to her damp skin, her cheeks flushed and lips parted.

Ross held her close, running a hand up and down her back.

His cock was still hard inside her, pulsing with the need he hadn't yet fulfilled.

"You came so hard for me," he whispered against her temple. "But I'm not done with you yet, baby."

Jane whimpered in response, too dazed to speak, but her body betrayed her with a slow clench around him—as if begging for more.

Ross took her like a man possessed, and Jane surrendered like a woman on fire.

He didn't just make love to her—he devoured her.

From the moment he mounted her from behind, gripping her waist with a strength that made her tremble, to the way he whispered filth into her ear as he drove into her again and again, Jane was utterly consumed.

Her moans turned to cries, her cries to helpless gasps, her gasps to incoherent begging.

Ross wasn't satisfied with just the bed. He claimed her in the shower, steam curling around them like smoke from a fire too hot to contain.

He pinned her to the cold tiles, her wet skin sliding against the wall as he thrust into her, the sound of water mixing with the obscene slap of skin against skin.

Her legs trembled from the intensity, but Ross only held her tighter, fucking her through the exhaustion like she was the only thing in the world worth touching.

When they stumbled out of the bathroom, barely toweling off, he bent her over the desk, scattering papers and pens, not even caring.

Her palms slammed against the wood as he entered her again, and all she could do was scream his name.

On the floor, against the window, with the city lights watching—Ross made sure she would never forget.

They left traces of their passion everywhere: smeared handprints on mirrors, wet footprints on the floor, rumpled sheets, and love bites down Jane's neck and thighs.

Her lipstick was ruined. Her hair was a wild mess.

Her body was marked with everything Ross gave her—his strength, his desire, his need.

And Jane? She came again and again and again. Her body shook from it.

Her mind blanked. Her voice was raw from moaning and screaming, but still, she wanted more.

Even when her legs gave out and her body refused to move, Ross simply lifted her, carried her to the next place, and started all over again.

Time became meaningless.

Night bled into morning, and morning into afternoon, and still they didn't stop.

When they finally paused for air, tangled in sweat-soaked sheets, Ross picked up the hotel phone and extended their stay for several more nights.

No hesitation. No questions.

He wanted her longer. And she… couldn't refuse.

The hours that followed were a blur of kisses and thrusts, of laughter and lust, of quiet sighs and desperate cries.

Even when they collapsed into brief sleep, curled against one another, Ross would awaken her with a gentle touch, a kiss, a growl in her ear, and they'd begin again—slow or rough, gentle or savage, but always intense.

Jane lost herself in him completely.

Her body, her mind, her soul—everything was tangled up in Ross.

She was overstimulated, overworked, and overwhelmed, but the way he looked at her—like she was the most irresistible thing he'd ever seen—kept pulling her back in.

And when he made her come again, soaking him as her entire body tensed and released, she knew she'd been changed forever.

When they finally stopped—truly stopped—the room was wrecked, the sheets were ruined, and Jane could hardly move.

Her limbs were limp, her voice gone, her skin burning in the aftermath of it all.

Ross lay beside her, chest rising and falling, his hand resting possessively on her bare thigh.

They said nothing for a while.

Only silence… and the slow, steady beat of two hearts still racing.

And in that silence, Jane knew one thing with utter clarity—whatever spell she had fallen under with Ross, it would never fully fade.

No matter how far she ran, no matter how much time passed, this memory would haunt her.

Her body would remember.

Her heart would remember.

She would remember.

Always.