Evil MC's NTR Harem - Chapter 1066

Chapter 1066: Chapter 1066 News
From top to bottom, then bottom to top, Ross’s lips and tongue mapped every inch of her body.

Miku’s skin burned under his touch, yet the sensation was intoxicating, overwhelming her senses.

Every kiss, every lick, every sigh she made seemed to bind her closer to him, until she felt suspended between reality and a dizzying world of pleasure.

When Ross finally captured her lips, it was as if the universe itself had narrowed to that single, scorching connection.

Miku’s breath hitched, her body trembling, her mind blank with anticipation.

She felt like an angel on the brink of heaven, teetering on the edge of ecstasy, and she knew—deep down, instinctively—that Ross was taking her exactly there.

Every nerve, every pulse, every shiver told her the same thing: she was utterly, completely his, and the pleasure he was about to give her would be unlike anything she had ever known.

“Hahhhh…”

“Hahhhh…”

“Hahhhh…”

Miku’s breath came in ragged, useless gasps, each one hitching in her throat.

The world had shrunk to the space of the rumpled sheets and the devastating skill of the man between her thighs.

Every flick and stroke of Ross’s tongue was a masterpiece of precision, coiling the tension inside her tighter and tighter, a spring wound to its breaking point.

She had felt the peak approaching, a glorious summit she was desperate to reach, only to be left suspended, trembling on an edge of exquisite frustration.

The release was a promise perpetually withheld.

With a dawning, horrifying realization that cut through the sensual haze, she looked down at him.

He was causing this. It wasn’t a failure of her own body, but his deliberate, calculated control.

Through some cruel, insane skill, he was reading the subtle tells of her body—the flutter of a muscle, the catch of her breath—anticipating her climax and holding her perpetually on its excruciating precipice.

He was the architect of her pleasure and the warden of her denial.

“I am,” Ross murmured against her heated skin, his voice a low, smug vibration that seared into her.

A wicked, knowing smile played on his lips, confirming her terrible, thrilling guess.

The eye contact was intimate and domineering; he was not just pleasuring her, he was demonstrating his absolute mastery over her, and he wanted her to watch him do it.

A sob of pure frustration tangled with a moan.

Her fingers, which had been gripping the sheets until her knuckles were white, now tangled helplessly in his hair, not to push him away, but to anchor herself in the storm he was conducting.

When he finally, finally moved, it was with a languid, torturous shift.

He rose over her, his body a dark silhouette against the dim light, and she felt the blunt, solid weight of him cradled against her slick, parted lips.

“Ohhhhhh…” A moan of pure, aching need escaped her, a raw, guttural sound she didn’t recognize as her own.

It was a plea, a prayer, a surrender.

He offered no more words, no false comforts.

Only a single, powerful, claiming thrust that buried him to the hilt inside her, filling the unbearable emptiness in one stunning, seamless motion.

“Ahhhhhh!” The scream was torn from the very core of her being, one of pure, unadulterated release.

The orgasm she’d been so cruelly denied didn’t just arrive; it erupted.

It detonated from that point of joining, a shockwave of incandescent pleasure that shattered the last of her control.

It washed over her in a devastating, relentless wave, stealing her vision, her hearing, every coherent thought.

Her back arched off the bed as her body convulsed around him, a series of violent, exquisite spasms that milked the length of him, each one wringing another broken cry from her lips.

It was not a gentle culmination, but a cataclysm, and as the world dissolved into blinding white light, she was utterly, completely his.

The world had dissolved into a symphony of sensation.

Miku was floating, untethered from gravity, from thought, from anything that wasn’t the aftershock of her climax.

This was heaven, a state of pure, unadulterated bliss.

But as the last tremor faded from her limbs, a new, more profound truth dawned: that was only the beginning.

The bliss wasn’t an ending; it was the prelude.

Pak.

The sound was a sharp, wet crack against the silence, a startling punctuation to her euphoria.

It was followed by another, and then another, a steady, brutal rhythm that pulled her back from the edge of satiation and threw her right back into the fire.

Pak.

Pak.

Ross did not stop with her climax. He was a force of nature, an unrelenting tide.

He continued, driving long, punishing slams deep into her body, each thrust a deliberate, calculated invasion that stretched her to her absolute limit.

A faint, rational part of her mind, a ghost in the machine of her pleasure, screamed in disbelief.

She couldn’t believe her tight pussy could take all 15 inches of him, the sheer size and force of him feeling both impossible and utterly necessary.

But in truth, she didn’t care anymore. That rational voice was drowned out by a roaring waterfall of need.

All that mattered was the relentless pleasure, the feeling of coming for Ross again and again.

Her body was no longer her own; it was an instrument he played with masterful, devastating expertise.

“Ahhhhhh…” A long, shuddering moan was torn from her throat, a sound of pure, unvarnished ecstasy.

“Ohhhhhh…” This one was lower, guttural, as he hit a spot deep inside her that made her vision blur.

“Ughhhhh…” It was a sound of being utterly, completely filled, of having the very breath forced from her lungs by his power.

She moaned like a bitch in heat, loud and shameless, and she didn’t care.

There was no room for modesty, no space for anything but the raw, animalistic truth of the moment.

Ross, watching the play of delirious pleasure on her face, captured her frantic, open-mouthed cries with a deep, consuming kiss.