Evil MC's NTR Harem - Chapter 1105
Chapter 1105: Chapter 1105 Thrones
Chelsea’s mind swirled with disbelief and fear, yet beneath it, a strange heat began to build, pulsing through her cunt in rhythm with Ross’s rigid length.
Minutes stretched endlessly.
Her muscles screamed in protest, but gradually, the pain began to blur, and a new, sharper sensation took its place.
Pleasure.
Tentative at first, then growing, spreading like wildfire from deep inside her.
Her hips twitched instinctively, testing the movement, and she realized she could start to push back, however slightly.
Slowly, cautiously, Chelsea began moving her hips in small, controlled motions.
The friction, the fullness, the heat of Ross inside her—it was overwhelming.
Pleasure surged through her body in waves, and her cries, once sharp with pain, began to shift into gasps of ecstasy.
Every nerve felt alive, every inch of her body consumed by the sensation of being filled completely.
“Oh… I… I’m…” she whimpered, her voice trembling as she began to lose herself.
The heat pooled low in her belly, coiling tighter and tighter until it erupted in a shuddering climax.
“Coming! Ahhhhhhh!” Chelsea screamed, her body convulsing as orgasm tore through her.
Her juices soaked Ross’s cock, and the pleasure didn’t let up, spilling through her in relentless waves.
Her legs trembled, her back arched, and for a long moment, she couldn’t tell where her body ended and the sensation began.
Finally, gasping and spent, she collapsed atop him, her heart racing, her body still trembling with aftershocks of ecstasy.
The pain and fear of just moments ago were gone, replaced by a lingering, burning warmth that pulsed with every beat of her heart.
The world had shrunk to the dimensions of the sweat-slicked sheets and the heavy, rhythmic sound of their breathing.
A few minutes later, but what felt like a small eternity, Chelsea lifted her head, her gaze finding Ross’s with renewed vigour.
The initial, sharp pain of her virginity being taken had melted, transforming into a deep, resonant ache that was now blooming into something else entirely—a desperate, clawing need.
Beneath her, she could feel the undeniable evidence of his own arousal.
Ross’s big, hard cock twitched deep inside her, a subtle spasm that seemed to make it grow even larger, stretching her to a breathtaking fullness.
She took it as a sign, a primal telegraph that he was teetering on the edge.
Beads of sweat traced paths from her temples down her flushed cheeks, and she used the back of her hand to wipe them away, her chest heaving.
Leaning forward, until her lips were inches from his ear, her voice dropped to a lewd, husky whisper, laced with a challenge.
“What about it, Ross? Doesn’t my virgin pussy feel so good wrapped around you? So tight, so… untouched.” She clenched her inner muscles around him deliberately, a slow, pulsing squeeze.
“Why don’t you come for me now. I want to feel it. I want you to come deep inside my pussy and plant your seed, Ross. Plant a baby deep inside my fertile cunt. Claim what you’ve taken.”
She emphasized her words with a slow, teasing roll of her hips, a deliberate, sensual motion designed to unravel him.
Ross’s eyes, dark and unreadable, glinted with a mixture of amusement and cool assessment.
A slow, arrogant smirk tugged at his lips.
His hands, which had been laying on his side, moved to her waist, not to guide her, but almost as if to study the frantic rhythm she was setting.
“I must admit,” he began, his voice a low, steady rumble that contrasted sharply with her breathless pleas, “that it’s a good pussy, Chelsea. All virgin pussies are. Tight. Hot. There’s a certain… novelty to it.” He paused, driving his hips up to meet her next descent, a sharp, punishing thrust that stole her breath.
“But don’t for a second think you’re the first to offer it to me. I’ve had many virgin pussies over the years. Too many to count, in fact. So if you’re thinking that this,” he thrust again, “is enough to make me spill, then you need to think again. You’ll have to work a lot harder than that.”
The cold confidence in his voice was a slap, more jarring than any physical blow.
“Bastard!” Chelsea cursed, the word tearing from her throat, laced with equal parts fury and a desperate, humiliating arousal.
But her hips didn’t stop. Fueled by his rejection and her own mounting need, she abandoned the teasing.
Her movements shifted from seductive to single-minded.
She braced her hands on his broad chest, her nails digging faint crescents into his skin, and began to move in earnest.
It was no longer a seduction; it was a conquest.
Pak…
Pak…
Pak…
The sound of their bodies meeting filled the room, a wet, rhythmic slap that underscored her determination.
Her body bounced on top of his, taking every inch of his substantial length, her world narrowing to the burning friction and the sight of his smug face.
She was a woman on a mission, her mind screaming a silent litany of more, deeper, harder.
Each downward plunge was a prayer, each gasp a plea. She would break his composure.
She would make him lose the control he held so dear.
She would make him hers in the most primal way possible, even if it meant shattering herself in the process.
“Ahhhhhh…”
“Ohhhhhh…”
“Ughhhhh…”
Chelsea pushed herself harder than ever, desperate to make Ross come, but every movement seemed only to drive her own pleasure higher.
Her body arched and writhed atop him with every peak, each wave of orgasm washing over her like a relentless tide.
Time lost all meaning; an hour slipped by, and she had long since stopped counting how many times she had reached the edge.
Her breaths came in ragged pants, beads of sweat glistening on her skin as she leaned down to press her face against his chest, clinging to him for support.
She could feel the heat radiating from his body beneath her, and yet the more she tried, the more uncontrollable her own reactions became.
Her hips bucked instinctively, riding him through movements she no longer consciously controlled.