Evil MC's NTR Harem

One week later, just as promised, Joshua came home.

Jane stood at the front door of their small rented house as he stepped out of the taxi, looking thinner, worn down, but smiling—relieved to be free.

She wrapped her arms around him tightly, breathing in the familiar scent of her husband.

For a moment, she felt grounded again. But that moment passed too quickly.

Joshua Carlson may have walked out of jail, but the life they once lived did not follow him.

Their mansion was gone, seized as part of an ongoing investigation.

The cars, the private chefs, the maids, even her wardrobe—stripped away.

They had to let it all go. Now they lived in a modest house tucked into a quiet neighborhood, where the lights flickered slightly when the microwave ran and the air conditioning wheezed on hot days.

The bed was smaller. The walls thinner. And everything felt a little too real.

Joshua took up a job at a local logistics warehouse, working twelve-hour shifts hauling and stacking cargo.

He didn't complain—not once—but the strain showed.

His shoulders slumped lower each night, his eyes more tired, his hands rougher with each passing day.

Jane watched him closely—tried to be supportive.

She cooked dinner, waited for him to come home, rubbed his shoulders when he asked.

But the distance between them kept growing in quiet ways. He barely spoke at night.

He'd pass out on the couch before they could even share a real conversation.

And when she tried to initiate something intimate, he kissed her forehead with a weak smile and mumbled, "Not tonight."

The first time they tried to make love again, Joshua barely lasted five minutes before turning over and apologizing.

His cock could not even get hard enough to penetrate her.

Jane had smiled, pretending it didn't matter, pretending she wasn't aching for something more. But it did matter.

And it did ache.

That night, after Joshua fell asleep, Jane lay on her side, staring at the cracks in the ceiling, her heart heavy with confusion.

Then her thoughts drifted—slowly at first, then like a flood.

Ross.

She didn't want to think about him. Not here. Not now. But her mind betrayed her, painting vivid memories in perfect detail.

The way he had taken her—without hesitation, without shame.

His strong hands gripping her hips. His mouth claiming every inch of her.

The way he made her body sing, scream, surrender.

Her breath hitched.

She turned onto her back, her nightgown clinging to her skin from the heat.

The room was stifling, but the fire inside her burned hotter.

She closed her eyes.

He had fucked her everywhere. In the bed. In the shower. On the walls. On the floor.

He didn't tire. He didn't hesitate. He didn't ask—he took.

And she had given in willingly, completely, desperately.

Her thighs rubbed together, slick with remembered desire.

Her hand moved beneath the thin fabric of her gown, trembling with need.

She felt a wave of guilt hit her chest—but it wasn't enough to stop her.

Joshua lay asleep beside her, breathing heavily. Oblivious. Distant.

But Ross... Ross had never been distant. He had been inside her. Around her. All over her.

And God, her body remembered. It missed him. The ache inside her now was unbearable.

She touched herself slowly, biting her lip, stifling her moans as her mind conjured his voice, his cock, his filthy promises whispered into her ear.

"Come for me again, Jane…"

And she did.

Her body tensed, hips arching slightly off the bed as the orgasm washed over her in trembling waves.

She shook, breathing hard, eyes clenched shut.

Then silence.

The guilt hit harder now, cold and real.

She turned her head and looked at Joshua, still deep in sleep, unaware of everything.

Jane pulled the blanket over herself and stared into the darkness, her heart racing.

She had everything once—money, status, comfort. Then Ross. Now this.

And she couldn't shake the feeling that what she had with Ross…

Was far from over.

***

Another week slipped by, slow and uneventful—until her phone buzzed with a message from an unknown number.

"I missed you. Come to the same place, Jane. I know you want it again."

Just one line—and everything around her froze.

Jane stared at the screen, her heart hammering in her chest.

Her fingers trembled slightly as she held the phone, the air around her suddenly thick with heat.

She should've deleted the message. She should've felt disgusted, ashamed.

But she didn't.

Instead, a thrill curled through her spine like a shiver.

Guilt flickered briefly—like a candle struggling against the wind—but it was drowned out by something stronger. Something hotter.

Desire.

She had tried to forget, tried to move on, but her body had a memory of its own.

A memory shaped like him—Ross, with that cock that had ruined her for any other man.

Her husband's touch no longer stirred her. Her dreams, her cravings… they all led back to that one unforgettable night.

And now, he wanted her again.

There was no hesitation.

She smiled—slow, wicked, and knowing.

Without a word, she slipped her phone into her pocket and walked to the washroom.

The house was quiet, Joshua still at work, unaware.

The door clicked shut behind her and she undressed quickly, the anticipation already making her thighs press together.

The shower turned on with a hiss, and steam rose almost instantly.

This would be her second bath today—but it didn't matter. She wanted to be perfect for Ross.

As the warm water flowed over her bare skin, Jane let her fingers drift down her body, teasing herself, imagining his hands instead.

Her breath hitched. Her nipples hardened. Every inch of her pulsed with anticipation.

By the time she stepped out of the shower and toweled off, her heart was racing with excitement.

She chose a black lace set—something daring, something Ross would enjoy peeling off her.

Then she dressed simply over it, slipped on her coat, and took one last glance in the mirror.

There was a spring in her step now. Her eyes glowed with mischief. Her lips curled in secret satisfaction.

She was going to him.

To Ross.

And she didn't care what that meant anymore.

She needed to feel him again.

She craved it.

Tonight, she wasn't a wife.

She was his.