Evil MC's NTR Harem

Joan's body was oversensitive, and every thrust felt like too much and not enough all at once.

"You're mine," Ross growled, his lips close to her ear. "This pussy… this tight little virgin cunt… it's all mine now."

Joan could only moan in response, her hands gripping his shoulders as her head tilted back, surrendering to him completely.

Ross reached under her knees and lifted her legs higher, folding her open, giving himself a deeper angle.

Then he slammed into her again, burying himself to the hilt—balls slapping her ass, cockhead pressing deep against her womb.

Joan let out a choked sob of pleasure, tears gathering in the corners of her eyes.

Her body had never felt anything like this—so full, so thoroughly taken.

She could feel every inch of him inside her, every vein, every twitch.

Ross's pace grew more frantic.

His hips slapped into her like a machine, sweat dripping from his temples onto her breasts as he lost himself in her body.

"I'm close," he panted, eyes dark and wild. "Fuck—Joan—I'm gonna come…"

She looked up at him, breathless and dazed.

Her lips parted, and her legs trembled as she gave him the one thing he didn't know he needed.

"Do it inside," she whispered. "I want it… I want you to come in me. Fill me, D."

Those words were his undoing.

With a strangled groan, Ross slammed into her one final time and held himself there, buried to the root.

His cock throbbed violently inside her, and then he came—hard.

Thick, hot spurts of cum shot deep into Joan's womb, one after another.

He held her tight, his entire body shaking with the force of it, as he poured himself into her, claiming her in the most primal way possible.

Joan felt every pulse of his release—warm and heavy inside her—and her body trembled again, as if another smaller orgasm rippled through her in response.

The feeling of being filled, stuffed with him, both cock and seed, was overwhelming.

Ross collapsed on top of her, bracing himself with one arm so he wouldn't crush her, both of them panting, drenched in sweat and slick with their shared fluids.

They lay there, tangled together, hearts racing, skin flushed.

He brushed his lips over her cheek, then kissed her deeply—slow, tender, possessive.

"You were perfect," he murmured.

Joan blinked up at him, exhausted, sore, but full of something she couldn't name.

Warmth bloomed in her chest.

A strange mixture of pride, pleasure, and something dangerously close to affection.

And deep inside her, his seed sat heavy, marking her in a way she knew she would never forget.

Just a few minutes later, their bodies were tangled once more—neither satisfied, neither willing to stop.

The fire between them hadn't died; if anything, it had grown wilder, more desperate.

Pak.

Pak.

Pak.

The rhythmic sound of Ross's hips slamming into Joan echoed loudly through the room, a steady, relentless beat accompanied by the unmistakable melody of pleasure.

"Ahhhhhh…"

"Ohhhhhh…"

"Ughhhhh…"

The moans and cries rose and fell like waves, crashing over them again and again.

Joan's voice, raw and breathless, sang out each time Ross pushed her over the edge.

Her body responded to him like an instrument—tuned perfectly to his touch, his thrusts, his every move.

She had lost count of how many times she'd come.

Her thighs quivered, her skin flushed and soaked with sweat, her hair clinging to her face and shoulders as Ross drove into her with savage devotion.

And yet, she wanted more.

Her body ached, but the ache only added to the euphoria, a delicious pain that made each climax sharper than the last.

Ross had become a man possessed.

He flipped her over, took her from behind, then pulled her back into his lap to ride him, guiding her hips with firm hands as she bounced on his cock.

He bent her over the side of the bed, one hand tangled in her hair, the other gripping her waist as he plunged in deep and hard.

No matter the position, Joan screamed for him—high and helpless, like a woman completely undone.

"D… D! I'm coming again!" she cried, her voice breaking as another climax ripped through her, her pussy clenching tight and squirting around his cock once more.

He groaned as the hot splash of her release drenched him, then didn't even stop.

He held her against him, buried himself to the hilt, and kept going—driven by the addictive feel of her.

"I'm not stopping," he growled into her ear. "Not until I've fucked every drop of strength out of you."

Joan's answer was another wanton moan, her hips pushing back into him, her body trembling but willing.

The night became a blur of pleasure and heat.

Ross kissed her breasts as he pounded her from behind.

He whispered filthy things against her neck while she rode him, her hands braced on his chest.

At one point, he lay her on her side and slid into her slowly, sweetly, thrusting in deep while his hand toyed with her swollen clit until she cried out again.

Time lost all meaning. The bed creaked endlessly beneath them.

The sheets were soaked. The room reeked of sex and sweat and raw desire.

And still, they didn't stop.

Joan's voice became the anthem of the night—breathy, cracked, overstimulated, and dripping with lust.

Her cries bled into whimpers, then into screams, then into desperate gasps as Ross ravaged her body like it was the only thing in the world that mattered.

It wasn't just sex—it was obsession, possession, something deeper than either of them could name.

By the time the first light of dawn began to creep into the room, Ross had taken her countless times.

Joan's body lay sprawled beneath him, her skin glowing, her limbs limp from exhaustion, her thighs sticky with his cum and her own repeated releases.

But even as her eyes fluttered shut and her chest rose and fell in heavy, satisfied breaths, her lips curled into a soft, blissful smile.

Because even after everything, she knew...

The night might have ended, but Ross wasn't done with her.

And neither was she with him.