Evil MC's NTR Harem - Chapter 1109
Chapter 1109: Chapter 1109 Lamp
Not when every thrust sent tremors up Lea’s spine and made her cum again…and again…and again.
Ross pulled her hips back harder, driving his full length into her until her knees slid forward from the force.
Ross took her like a dog—relentless, dominant, primal—and Lea didn’t care in the slightest.
She couldn’t. The pleasure was too overwhelming, too constant, too addictive.
Her body surrendered to him completely, lost in nonstop orgasmic bliss that showed no signs of ending.
If anything…
Ross was fucking her like he intended to make her break apart entirely—and Lea welcomed every second of it.
And of course Ross didn’t stop there. He had only just begun.
The night dissolved into a haze of skin and breath and low, animal sounds.
Hours slipped by unmarked, the way time always does when someone is being taken apart piece by piece and loving every second of it.
The room was thick with heat, the air heavy and humid, laced with the salt of sweat and the sharper, unmistakable scent of Lea’s arousal.
Every surface seemed to pulse with it: the ruined sheets, the pillows shoved halfway off the bed, the faint sheen on Ross’s back as he moved over her like a storm that refused to break.
Chelsea woke slowly, dragged up from sleep by the rhythmic creak of the bedframe and the wet, rhythmic slap of flesh on flesh.
For a moment she thought she was still dreaming.
Then her eyes focused, and the dream turned fever-bright and real.
Ross had Lea folded nearly in half, her knees hooked over his broad shoulders, ankles dangling uselessly by his ears.
He was driving into her with slow, deliberate strokes, each one bottoming out so deep Chelsea could see the faint bulge in Lea’s lower belly every time he buried himself to the root.
Lea’s head was thrown back, throat arched, mouth open on a soundless cry that finally broke free as a cracked, desperate whimper.
Her fingers scrabbled at the sheets, nails tearing fabric, leaving pale scratches on Ross’s forearms when she could reach him.
He didn’t rush. He never rushed. He took his time destroying her.
He flipped her like she weighed nothing: onto her stomach, hips yanked high, face pressed into the mattress as he slammed home from behind.
The angle was brutal; Lea’s toes barely brushed the bed.
Chelsea watched her sister’s eyes flutter shut, watched her mouth go slack, drool pooling beneath her cheek while Ross’s hand fisted gently in her hair, arching her back just enough to make her spine into one long, trembling bow.
Later, he pulled her upright, back to his chest, one arm banded under her breasts, the other splayed low on her belly, holding her impaled as he rolled his hips in slow, filthy circles.
Lea’s head lolled against his shoulder, damp hair sticking to both of them.
“Ahhhhh….”
“Ohhhhh….”
“Ughhhh….”
She was making these soft, broken noises, little hitched sobs that weren’t pain, weren’t anything close to pain, just pure overwhelmed surrender.
Chelsea couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe properly.
Her own body felt strange, too warm, too tight, pinned beneath the weight of what she was seeing.
She should have looked away. She didn’t.
Ross shifted again.
Sideways now, Lea’s top leg thrown over his hip, his hand wedged between her thighs, fingers working in time with every thrust.
Chelsea could see everything: the slick shine coating his cock when he pulled back, the way Lea’s swollen folds clung to him, reluctant to let go even for a second.
She could see the tremor in Lea’s thighs, the way her sister’s stomach fluttered with every breath, the endless ripple of tiny aftershocks that never quite faded.
Four hours, maybe more. Chelsea lost track.
Lea had come so many times her voice was shredded, nothing left but hoarse whispers and cracked gasps of Ross’s name.
Her body glistened, flushed dark pink from collarbone to knees, marked with the faint red imprints of his fingers, his mouth, the places he’d held her too tight and she’d begged him not to stop.
And then, finally, the last one built like a tidal wave.
Ross flipped her onto her back again, hooked her legs high and wide, and let go of every pretense of control.
He fucked her hard, fast, relentless, the bedframe slamming against the wall in a rhythm that rattled the pictures in the hallway.
Lea’s hands flew to his shoulders, nails digging bloody crescents, and her whole body seized.
“I’m coming, I’m coming, fuck, Ross, I’m coming! ROSSSSS!”
The scream tore out of her like her soul was leaving with it.
Her back arched so violently Chelsea thought she’d break in half.
Every muscle locked, quivering, toes curled so tight the tendons stood out white beneath the skin.
A visible rush of wetness flooded between them, soaking Ross’s hips, the sheets, everything.
Lea’s eyes rolled back until only white showed, mouth stretched wide on a scream that shredded into a raw, guttural howl and then collapsed into nothing but shaking, open-mouthed silence.
Ross ground deep and stayed there, riding it out with her, letting her milk him through wave after wave until she finally went limp, every last ounce of strength drained.
Her arms flopped to the sides, fingers twitching.
A full-body shudder wracked her, then another, smaller, fading into soft tremors.
Her breath hitched once, twice, and then evened out into a low, exhausted snore, deep and utterly boneless.
Ross eased out slowly, carefully, like he was handling something precious and fragile now that the storm had passed.
Lea didn’t stir. Didn’t even flicker an eyelid.
She lay sprawled in the wreckage of the bed, legs still splayed wide, chest heaving, skin gleaming with sweat and release.
A lazy, sated smile curved her swollen lips, dreamy and dazed, like she was floating somewhere far above the ruined sheets.
Thoroughly, perfectly, devastatingly fucked.
Chelsea’s heart hammered against her ribs. The room smelled like sin and satisfaction and something darker she couldn’t name yet.
And Ross, still hard, still hungry, turned his head slowly and looked straight at her.