Evil MC's NTR Harem

Ross held her steady, guiding her gently.

"Always," he murmured, but the moment she took him in, both of them moaned in unison.

Amanda's head fell back, her hands gripping his shoulders.

"Ohhh… Ross…" she cried out. "You're so big…"

Ross's cock stretched her to the limit, filling her completely, and yet her body welcomed the pressure, the burn, the deep pleasure that followed.

He kissed her neck, her collarbone, her breasts, his hands roaming as she slowly rocked her hips.

"I love your tight pussy," he whispered, voice rough with restraint. "It's gripping my cock do hard and good."

She whimpered, moving faster, chasing that electric high.

Every movement sent sparks flying through her, and Ross matched her rhythm, lifting his hips to meet hers with each thrust.

The room was filled with the sound of their bodies moving together—gasps, moans, the soft creak of the bed beneath them.

Amanda clung to him, her face buried in his shoulder as wave after wave of pleasure threatened to drown her.

And Ross? He held her like she was precious, but took her like he owned her.

"Ahhhhh…"

"Ohhhhh…"

"Ughhhh…" Amanda was moaning wildly, her breath ragged as she moved her hips up and down, riding Ross's thick, throbbing cock with unrestrained abandon.

Each motion sent waves of ecstasy coursing through her body, her moans rising louder, her voice breaking as pleasure took over every inch of her being.

The way Ross filled her—completely, deeply—was almost too much to bear, and yet she couldn't stop.

She didn't want to stop.

Her skin was slick with sweat, her body working hard, but she hardly noticed.

Her thighs burned from the effort, but the pleasure blazing through her overshadowed everything else.

Her breasts bounced with every movement, nipples stiff from the cool air and the heat building inside her.

Ross watched her with a hunger that never dimmed, his hands gripping her waist, occasionally sliding up her slick back, down to her bouncing ass, and then back to her hips to guide her rhythm.

He looked up at her like she was a goddess—something wild, divine, and made just for him.

Despite her breathless moaning and sweat-drenched body, Amanda kept going—faster, harder—desperate for more.

Her head tilted back, her hair cascading down her shoulders as she chased the climax building fast inside her.

Ross leaned forward and captured her nipple in his mouth, sucking hard, biting just enough to make her gasp. That extra stimulation pushed Amanda over the edge.

"Ross… Rossssss!" she screamed, her voice cracking as her body convulsed with an overwhelming orgasm.

Her walls clenched tight around him, and suddenly, a hot stream gushed from her—she squirted violently, soaking him and the sheets beneath them. Her legs trembled.

Her body collapsed into his chest, still shaking.

The bed was a mess. Wet with sweat. Wet with her juices. Wet with their desire.

Ross smiled against her neck, licking a trail up to her ear.

"God, Amanda… You're simply amazing," he whispered.

And then it was his turn.

He gripped her hips tight and thrust up into her, deep, hard, relentless—lifting her slightly off the bed with the force of it.

Amanda cried out again, still sensitive, but loving every second. And then, with a deep groan, he reached his limit.

Pew…

Pew…

Pew…

He came inside her with intensity, flooding her already stuffed cunt with thick, hot spurts of cum.

She could feel it pulsing into her, filling her beyond capacity, some of it spilling out around his cock and dripping down her thighs.

Amanda moaned softly, lost in the aftershocks, loving the feel of him releasing everything into her.

But this wasn't the end. Not for Ross.

Even as he emptied himself, his cock remained hard, twitching inside her, eager for more.

Amanda blinked, dazed, exhausted—and then she laughed softly. "You're… still hard?"

Ross leaned in and kissed her deeply. "You didn't think we were done, did you?"

And so, they kept going.

They changed positions. Amanda on her back with her legs thrown over his shoulders.

Amanda bent over at the edge of the bed as Ross pounded into her from behind, spanking her lightly, pulling her hair, whispering filth into her ear.

Amanda on top again, clawing at his chest, riding him until tears slipped from her eyes—not from pain, but from sheer, overwhelming pleasure.

They didn't stop.

Not for food. Not for rest. Not for anything.

Their bodies moved in sync, like they were meant to be joined like this forever. Time blurred.

The room was filled with the sounds of skin slapping, wet kisses, Amanda's gasps and Ross's grunts, and the soft creaking of the bed that had long given up supporting them properly.

By the time night fell, Amanda had lost track of how many times she had come.

Her voice was hoarse from moaning his name, and her body trembled with overstimulation.

Her inner thighs were sore, her pussy swollen and stuffed full of Ross's seed.

She lay in his arms now, panting softly, her fingers tracing lazy circles on his chest.

"I can't stop coming," she murmured.

Ross smiled, brushing her damp hair from her face. "I know," he said. "I'll never stop until I get you addicted to my cock."

And he didn't.

Because after a short rest, Amanda felt that familiar heat stirring again… and Ross was already getting hard.

The two of them didn't stop. For an entire week, they made love with wild, unrelenting passion—day and night, over and over again. It was madness, pure and carnal.

Amanda had become an absolute mess, her body trembling, overstimulated, and soaked in the aftermath of countless orgasms.

But she didn't care.

She was hooked—completely, hopelessly addicted to the pleasure Ross gave her.

Every time she felt him inside her, thick and hard, she welcomed it like it was the first time.

And every time he filled her, stretched her, and brought her to the brink, she surrendered willingly, even eagerly.

She kept coming—again and again—her cries echoing in the room, her body shuddering each time Ross's big, fat cock plunged into her and hit all the right spots.

She was insatiable, just like him, riding wave after wave of ecstasy without ever wanting it to end.

Amanda didn't know what day it was anymore. Time blurred into heat, sweat, moans, and pleasure.

All that mattered was Ross, his touch, his kisses, his body pressed against hers—and the next orgasm she knew would come the moment he moved inside her again.

And he always did.