Evil MC's NTR Harem

The kiss ended, leaving Grace breathless, her chest rising and falling in uneven waves.

Her lips tingled, still swollen from Ross's relentless assault, her body thrumming with heat.

She leaned forward instinctively, her mouth slightly parted, silently asking for more.

But Ross wasn't there.

Her eyes fluttered open, confusion flashing through her dazed mind—until she found him.

He was watching her, his lips curved into a slow, knowing smirk, his dark gaze drinking her in with the satisfaction of a hunter who had successfully lured his prey into a trap.

The realization sent a shiver down her spine.

She had been caught.

No, worse—she had willingly walked into his grasp.

A flush of shame and frustration warred with the undeniable ache between her legs.

She knew exactly what he had done to her—how easily he had made her yield, how he had manipulated her body into surrendering, into craving more.

How had this happened?

Ross would only be the second man to ever have her, and yet, the way he touched her, the way he played her so effortlessly, made it feel as if he had already claimed her long ago.

Her breath hitched as he tilted his head, his voice a husky murmur.

"Tell me, Grace… do you want me to fuck you now?"

The question sent a fresh wave of heat rolling through her, pooling deep in her core.

But she refused to say it.

She clenched her jaw, her fingers curling against the sheets as she willed herself to stay silent.

Instead, she merely shook her head—just the barest movement. A pitiful, fragile resistance.

Ross's smirk deepened. He saw right through her.

Her body betrayed her—flushed and trembling, her thighs damp, her breath coming in uneven little gasps. She was ready for him. And yet, this was the last shred of control she had.

She would not give him the satisfaction of hearing her surrender.

Ross chuckled, the sound low and full of dark amusement.

"So be it," he murmured. "I'll make you say it eventually."

Before she could react, his hands were on her, firm and possessive, pushing her back onto the bed.

Grace gasped, her body tensing as he moved over her with effortless dominance, his weight pressing her into the mattress.

Her breath caught as his large hands slid down, gripping her thighs with quiet authority.

Then—without hesitation—he spread them apart.

A sharp gasp left her lips, panic flickering through her veins. Instinct took over, her hands flying to shield herself, desperate to hold onto the last barrier between them.

But Ross was faster.

With ease, he caught her wrists, prying them away as though her feeble resistance was nothing.

"Don't hide from me," he murmured, his voice thick with something dark and unrelenting.

Grace trembled, her pulse hammering in her ears.

She was completely bare beneath him now, her most intimate place fully exposed to his hungry gaze.

A helpless shudder ran through her as the weight of the moment sank in.

Ross didn't move right away. He didn't touch her.

Instead, he just looked.

His dark eyes raked over her, devouring every inch of her bare, vulnerable body, the air between them growing thick and stifling with tension.

Then—

A rough swallow.

A sharp inhale.

And a gleam of raw, unfiltered lust flickering in his gaze.

His grip tightened around her wrists as he exhaled, slow and measured, as if he were barely restraining himself.

"You're even more beautiful than I imagined," he murmured.

His voice sent a fresh shiver down her spine, and she realized, with a mix of dread and reluctant anticipation—

This was only the beginning.

Grace's pussy was a sight to behold—fresh, glistening, and utterly inviting.

The soft pink lips, untouched by another man for years, quivered under Ross's gaze, glistening with arousal that trickled down the delicate curve of her ass.

Even the tight, forbidden entrance beneath it was a tender shade of pink, untouched and pristine.

Ross exhaled sharply, a wave of raw hunger crashing through him.

Fuck.

He had the sudden, almost overwhelming urge to claim every part of her—to bury himself deep inside, to stretch her until she molded around him, until her body learned to take him in every way possible.

But he reined himself in.

Not yet.

Pussy first. The rest would come later.

His fingers traced over her slick folds, spreading them apart slightly, admiring how they trembled at his touch.

"You have a beautiful pussy, Grace," he murmured, his voice thick with desire.

"Your husband is a lucky man to have had this all to himself for so long."

Grace tensed beneath him, her breath hitching.

Her body still burned with need, but at the mention of Ted, guilt surged through her like a cold slap to the face.

"Don't… don't talk about him," she whispered, her voice strained.

She didn't want to think about Ted. Couldn't.

If she did, the weight of what she was doing would crush her.

Her faithful husband was at home, completely unaware of what was happening right now—of how another man was spreading his wife's legs, how her body was betraying her, how she was wet for someone who wasn't him.

Ross, utterly unfazed by her distress, chuckled softly.

"Ted, huh? That's his name, yes?" he mused, as if the man was nothing more than an afterthought.

"Good name. Solid name."

And then—he pressed forward.

Grace sucked in a sharp breath as the thick, hot length of his cock slid against her drenched slit, rubbing along her swollen folds.

Her fingers curled against the sheets, her thighs trembling at the sensation.

It was too much.

And yet—not enough.

Ross guided his cock over her slit in slow, deliberate strokes, teasing her, coating himself in her arousal.

Every time the thick head nudged against her entrance, she felt the slight pressure, the silent promise of what was to come.

But he didn't push in.

Not yet.

He was playing with her.

Toying with her hard and easy.