Evil MC's NTR Harem

The realization hit Ella again—this man was going to put a child in her. His child.

Growing inside her. Her body, changing. Their baby.

Her breath trembled.

"Make me pregnant," she whispered, barely able to speak the words aloud.

Ross looked into her eyes, his hand brushing gently along the curve of her side. "I will."

He leaned in again, this time kissing her chest, just above her breast.

Ella's head tilted back, a soft gasp escaping her lips.

She was already warm between her thighs—aching, wanting.

This wasn't just an obligation anymore. It was desire. Purpose.

A craving as old as womanhood.

She lay back on the bed, and Ross followed.

Tonight wasn't just about sex.

It was about creation.

Ella didn't know what hit her when Ross pushed her onto the bed, his strength overwhelming yet thrilling.

Her breath caught in her throat the moment he spread her thighs and dipped his head between them.

Warmth, pressure, and pleasure followed instantly as Ross began to feast on her pussy with slow, deliberate strokes of his tongue.

"Ahhhh…" she moaned, voice trembling with a sweetness she hadn't felt in years.

Her back arched instinctively, fingers tangling in the bedsheets as his mouth worked her with a hunger that felt almost primal.

Her mind spun, struggling to keep up with the whirlwind of sensations.

And yet, even in the haze of pleasure, comparisons began to form.

She couldn't help it.

Her husband Mario had once made her feel good—truly good.

In the early years of their marriage, he had been virile, strong, and attentive in bed.

But things had changed.

It started subtly, excuses about stress, fatigue, or work.

But over time, it became clear: he could no longer get it up.

The man who once worshipped her body now couldn't even look at her the same way.

Their last night together had been years ago, awkward and brief, leaving her cold and unsatisfied.

And now here she was, legs spread wide, her most intimate place being ravished by another man—one who didn't hold back.

Ross's tongue was like nothing she had experienced.

It was long, thick, and had a confidence behind every motion, as if he knew exactly what she needed and how to give it.

He licked with purpose, circling her clit, teasing the sensitive folds, then diving in deeper with such finesse that her thighs trembled.

"Oh God…" she gasped, biting her lip, trying to stifle her moans—but it was useless.

Her body betrayed her, hips rolling against his face, silently begging for more.

Ross held her firmly, hands gripping her thighs to keep her in place, his tongue relentless.

Every flick, every swirl made her see stars. Her chest heaved, nipples hard, body flushed and burning with need.

It wasn't just physical—it was emotional, too.

After so long of feeling neglected, unwanted, she was now being devoured like she was the only woman in the world.

Tears welled up in her eyes—not from sadness, but from the overwhelming release of pent-up desire.

She looked down, saw Ross's eyes locked on hers, intense and focused even as he pleasured her.

There was something animalistic in the way he moved, like he was savoring every taste, every reaction.

"Ross… I'm coming! Coming!" she choked out, breathless.

He didn't stop.

Her entire body tightened, the heat in her core exploding like a dam breaking.

She came hard, crying out as waves of pleasure rocked her, her legs clamping around his head involuntarily.

Her moans filled the room, loud and raw, echoing off the walls.

Even then, Ross didn't pull away.

He licked her through it, gentle now, easing her down from the high with soothing, affectionate strokes.

Ella lay there, breathless and dazed, chest rising and falling.

Her body was still trembling, her skin coated in a light sheen of sweat.

For the first time in years, she felt truly alive.

Ross didn't slow down—not for a moment.

The hunger in his eyes had only grown, and the way his hands gripped her hips left no room for hesitation.

He moved with purpose, settling between her trembling thighs, his body towering over hers.

The warmth of his skin, the power in his muscles, the sheer weight of his presence—it all made Ella feel smaller, softer, more exposed than she'd ever felt before.

It was then that she noticed: his pants were gone.

Somehow, in the heat of their passion, he had already stripped completely, and she hadn't even realized it.

Her breath caught as her gaze dropped to the space between them, and what she saw made her entire body freeze.

Her eyes widened. She blinked. Once. Twice. Again.

There it was—thick, heavy, pulsing with need. Ross's cock jutted proudly from his body, standing tall and hard, the thick veins tracing its surface like a roadmap of lust.

15 inches long and fat cock!

"Ross… that's so big," Ella finally breathed, her voice barely audible, laced with awe and disbelief.

Her mouth hung slightly open, her heart pounding in her chest.

Her husband had never come close to this.

Mario had been average—six inches, slender, familiar.

And back when he could still perform, sex had been gentle, almost routine.

But this? This was something else entirely.

Ross was huge.

Easily over 15 inches, and much thicker than anything she'd ever had inside her.

The sheer size made her thighs instinctively press together for a moment, her mind racing with doubt.

Could she even take something like that?

Ross smirked, seeing the shock in her eyes.

He leaned down again, brushing her hair away from her face with surprising tenderness.

His voice was low and smooth as velvet, but carried the weight of pure dominance.

"That's fine, Ella," he murmured, lips ghosting over her ear.

"You can take it. You were made to take it."

She whimpered softly as he kissed her again—deeper this time, more possessive.

His tongue claimed her mouth as his hand slid down, fingers spreading her open slowly, testing her readiness.