Evil MC's NTR Harem - Chapter 1059
Chapter 1059: Chapter 1059 Defender
For a fleeting, horrifying moment, their bodies were in perfect, devastating sync, coming together in a parody of union.
Then, it was over. Ross relaxed his grip, his breathing heavy in her ear.
Miku was left filled, utterly and irrevocably.
The stark, wet reality of his seed deep within her was more than a physical sensation; it was a new, terrifying weight to carry, a seed of future horror planted in the most special manner.
It was a brand, a claim, and a promise of a nightmare yet to come.
As she lay there, the cold dread seeping back into her veins, she knew the world outside was no longer the only thing she had to fear.
The greatest threat was now growing inside her.
Still, this was only a threat since Ross would not do his women like that.
He would only allow them to get pregnant if they wanted to and not give them additional trauma of having a baby out of force.
Miku wouldn’t know this of course, and so she’ll get some little fear every time they would make love, and that was okay for him.
Ross looked at the tired Miku on top of him, her body still trembling from the intensity of their encounter, her breath coming in quick, ragged gasps, her skin slick with sweat and the residue of their passion.
He decided to train her properly today, his mind already racing with the many ways he could pleasure and dominate her, his body responding to the thought with a surge of arousal, his cock hardening further, if that was even possible.
With a firm grip, he carried her with his cock still deep and hard inside her pussy, her body wrapped around him, her legs locked behind his back, her arms clinging to his shoulders, her nails digging into his skin, leaving marks that would serve as a reminder of this intense, all-consuming encounter.
His strength and dominance were on full display, a stark reminder of the control he held over her, a control that extended far beyond the physical, seeping into the very depths of her psyche, claiming her, owning her, body and soul.
Ross moved with purpose, his steps fluid and confident, his body a machine of pleasure, designed to extract every ounce of ecstasy from her willing form.
He carried her to his bed, the mattress dipping under their combined weight, the springs creaking in protest as he laid her down, his body covering hers, his cock never leaving the warm, wet haven of her pussy.
He then took her from behind, his hands guiding her hips, his thrusts deep and unyielding, a primal, animalistic claiming of her body, a dance of dominance and submission, of power and surrender, of pleasure and pain.
This was only the start of their union, a prelude to the many positions and pleasures he had in store for her.
Ross took Miku in all positions possible, his stamina and endurance seemingly endless, his body a well-oiled machine, designed for one purpose and one purpose only: to pleasure and dominate.
He flipped her onto her stomach, her ass in the air, and took her from behind, his cock sliding in with ease, her juices coating him, making each thrust smooth and pleasurable.
He pulled her up, her back to his chest, and took her while standing, her feet dangling, her body supported by his strength, her pleasure heightened by the change in position, the angle allowing him to hit spots deep inside her that left her gasping and trembling.
The hours passed in a blur of sensation, a symphony of moans and gasps, of skin slapping against skin, of bodies moving in perfect, primal harmony.
Miku’s body was pushed to its limits, her mind a whirlwind of conflicting emotions, her senses heightened, her nerves alight with sensation, her body responding instinctively to the demands of his cock, her hips lifting slightly, seeking more, seeking deeper, despite the ache and the burn that accompanied each movement.
She was filled to the brim, her body stretched to its limits, her inner walls clinging to him, her muscles aching and trembling with the intensity of the intrusion, her body a playground for his pleasure, her existence defined by his desires, her being bent to his will.
Finally, twelve hours later, Miku passed out from the ordeal, her body spent and exhausted, her mind a blur of ecstasy and agony, a state of being that was as exhilarating as it was terrifying, as liberating as it was constricting.
Her limbs were heavy, her muscles weak, her body a mass of pleasurable pain, her mind a haze of satisfaction and surrender.
A normal human would have long died from such an intense and prolonged session, their body unable to handle the sheer volume of pleasure and pain, the relentless onslaught of sensation.
But not Miku.
She was now blessed with Ross’s come and essence, her body transformed, her very being altered, her mortality stripped away, leaving her immortal, a goddess of pleasure.
***
“Mmm…” Miku stirred awake the next morning, her body feeling strangely light, almost blissful.
For a few fleeting moments, she lay there staring at the ceiling, the morning light spilling gently across her face.
Her mind was blank—peaceful, quiet—something she hadn’t felt in a long time.
But peace never lasted.
In the next heartbeat, everything came crashing back.
The memories of the chaos, the screams, the endless running from the undead… and Ross—Ross who had flipped her world upside down.
She flushed at the thought of last night, of how he had taken her so thoroughly that she had screamed his name until her throat burned.
She remembered the way her body had betrayed her, surrendering again and again, each wave of pleasure more intense than the last.
It had been raw, consuming—and utterly humiliating for someone who’d sworn never to fall that low.
Her fingers brushed against her bare skin, and she froze. Naked. Her clothes were nowhere in sight.
With a frustrated groan, she forced herself out of bed, her legs trembling slightly.
She scoured the room until she found a pair of jeans and a simple shirt folded neatly inside the cabinet—probably placed there by Ross.
Even the thought of him made her grit her teeth.
“He thinks he can just do whatever he wants…” she muttered under her breath as she got dressed, the anger slowly replacing her earlier shame.
“He made a promise. He better keep it.”
By the time she stepped out of the room, Miku’s expression had hardened.
Her hair was still messy, her eyes puffy from sleep, but her resolve was sharp.
She was ready to face him, to remind him that she wasn’t some plaything to be discarded.
She found Ross sitting casually in the living room, sipping tea as if the world outside wasn’t burning.
The television murmured softly in the background, some old news replaying like a ghost from before the apocalypse.
Before Miku could open her mouth to unleash her anger, Ross looked up—calm, collected, and maddeningly unreadable.
“Check your room,” he said evenly. “Someone’s waiting for you there.”
Miku blinked, caught off guard.
Ross took another slow sip of tea before continuing, “And remember what we agreed upon, Miku. From now on, you’re mine—and mine alone.”
For a second, Miku’s heart stopped.
Her anger faltered, replaced by a mix of confusion and disbelief.
“What… what are you talking about?” she stammered, but Ross only gave her a faint, knowing smile and turned his gaze back to the TV.
Her pulse quickened.
Something in his tone—something quietly certain—made her chest tighten.
Without another word, she spun around and ran back to her room, her mind racing with impossible hopes and fears.
Her hand trembled as she reached for the door handle.
When she pushed it open, time seemed to stop.
There, lying on the bed, was a familiar figure—pale, a little thinner than before, but unmistakably alive.
“Ace…” she whispered, her voice breaking.
He was sleeping soundly, his chest rising and falling with every breath.
Tears welled up in her eyes as she stumbled forward, her knees nearly giving out.
She pressed a hand over her mouth, a sob escaping despite her effort to hold it in.
He was alive. Against all odds, he was alive.
Miku didn’t know how Ross had done it—and at that moment, she didn’t care.
None of it mattered anymore.
The world outside could burn, the dead could walk, and heaven itself could fall; all she cared about was the sight before her.
Ace was alive.
Her husband—the man she had mourned, the man whose face she thought she’d never see again—was breathing softly in front of her.
His chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm, faint but sure.
He was thinner than before, his cheeks sunken, his skin a little pale, but he was there. Real. Warm.
Alive.
A shaky breath escaped her as she sank to her knees beside the bed.