Evil MC's NTR Harem - Chapter 1065
Chapter 1065: Chapter 1065 Chart
The sensation was too much, yet not nearly enough. With each deep, probing thrust of his tongue, Miku felt a fresh rush of her own arousal, her juices flowing more abundantly, making his work slicker, messier, more obscenely wonderful.
Ross was relentless.
He could feel the tell-tale fluttering of her inner muscles beginning to clench around the intrusion of his tongue, the first tremors of the orgasm he was so expertly building.
He redoubled his efforts, one hand moving from her thigh to press the heel of his palm firmly against her clit, applying a delicious, steady pressure as his tongue continued to plunge deep within her.
The duality of sensation—the deep, filling thrusts and the persistent, circling pressure on her most sensitive nub—drove her to the brink of sanity.
It did not take long for the climax to shatter her.
The tension that had been coiling low in her belly snapped.
“Ohhhhhh…. Fuck! I’m coming!” she screamed, the sound raw and uninhibited, tearing from her throat.
In that moment, all social constraints, all fear, all awareness of the world outside that bedroom door vanished.
The fact that her husband was just a room away, that he could likely hear her ecstatic cries, was a distant, irrelevant thought.
Her entire universe had narrowed to the exquisite friction of Ross’s mouth on her cunt, to the feeling of her own release as it crashed over her in relentless, pulsing waves.
Her hips bucked against his face, her thighs trembling violently as she squirted her pleasure, drenching his chin, his cheeks, his relentless tongue.
When the last tremor finally subsided, leaving her boneless and gasping on the soaked sheets, Ross finally stilled.
He lifted his head slowly, his breathing ragged.
His face was glistening, utterly wet with her essence, a testament to the abandon he had wrung from her body.
He looked down at her wrecked form, a slow, deeply satisfied smile spreading across his slick features.
He had marked her, consumed her, and the proof was written all over him.
“You taste like heaven, Miku,” Ross murmured, his voice a husky vibration against her inner thigh.
He didn’t just speak the words; he let them linger in the air, a confession meant for her alone.
“I don’t think I could ever get enough.” His declaration was followed not by a frantic rush, but by a slow, worshipful return of his mouth to her core.
He kissed and licked with a deliberate, savoring intensity, as if committing every flavor and texture to memory, chasing the last, glistening drop of her arousal until she was trembling beneath him.
He didn’t stop there. His journey upward was a slow, tactile exploration of her body.
His lips and the rough scratch of his stubble traced a blazing path over the quivering plane of her stomach, pausing to dip into her navel, eliciting a sharp, involuntary gasp.
He continued his ascent until he reached the heavy swell of her breasts.
He took a taut, pebbled pink nipple into his mouth, not with greed, but with a knowing, sucking pressure that seemed to pull a thread of pleasure straight from her core to the very tips of her toes.
“Ughhhhhhh…” A low, guttural moan escaped her, a sound she barely recognized as her own.
Finally, his face hovered over hers, his breath mingling with hers.
He captured her lips in a deep, claiming kiss, letting her taste the essence of herself on his tongue—a bold, intimate act that shattered the last of her mental barriers.
In the dizzying haze of the kiss, she felt the insistent, solid weight of him—the thick, hard length of his erection pressing against her navel.
A powerful shiver, a confusing cocktail of primal fear and dizzying anticipation, wracked her body.
Her mind flashed back to the last time, to the overwhelming, all-consuming sensation of him filling her, stretching her, unlocking a version of herself she never knew existed.
It was a woman who was wanton, who cried out without shame, who moved with an instinctual, desperate rhythm.
This raw, sexual creature was a stranger to the composed, reserved wife who lay passively beside her husband during their polite, predictable lovemaking.
With him, it was a gentle merging. With Ross, it was a conquest.
He was more than just skilled; he was a virtuoso of the flesh, a man who seemed to have a map of her pleasure etched into his very being.
He didn’t just know one or two sensitive spots; he knew all of them.
He knew how the back of her knee could make her arch if traced just so, how a whisper in her ear could undo her faster than any touch, and how the relentless, deep friction of his body within hers could pull a confession of ecstasy from her very soul.
He wasn’t just a lover; he was an architect of her own undoing, and in that moment, trembling beneath him, she was both terrified and utterly, completely enthralled by the masterpiece he was creating.
Ross continued, and Miku melted in his arms like water, her body softening against him, helpless and trusting.
He kissed her neck slowly at first, letting the heat of his mouth linger, then traced a path upward to her ears, teasing them with a bold, mischievous flick of his tongue.
Every touch made her shiver, a delicious mix of anticipation and longing coursing through her veins.
Ross didn’t stop there—he alternated between soft nibbles and deep, wet kisses, each one sending jolts of pleasure straight to her core.
Her throat became the next target of his relentless attention, his lips and tongue exploring every sensitive inch, making her gasp and arch toward him.
Downward again he went, a deliberate trail of fiery sensations that left her trembling.
Ross’s hands roamed freely, gripping, teasing, and memorizing her curves as if committing them to memory.
He even took her toes into his mouth, sucking and licking, drawing tiny moans from her that only fueled his hunger.