Evil MC's NTR Harem

Chapter 1248: Chapter 1248 Quest

Anita didn’t speak at first—just let herself feel the warmth of his arm across her waist, the steady rise and fall of his breathing against her neck.

They moved to the kitchen like people in a shared dream.

He poured coffee while she perched on a stool, wearing nothing but his discarded button-down, the sleeves rolled to her elbows.

Breakfast was simple—toast, sliced fruit, quiet glances that carried more weight than words.

When he stepped between her knees and set the mug aside, she opened for him without hesitation.

This time it wasn’t the frantic, animal hunger of the night before.

Ross made love to her right there against the counter—slow, deliberate, almost reverent.

He kissed her like he was memorizing the shape of her mouth, trailed his lips down her throat, peeled the shirt open to bare her breasts, and worshipped them with tongue and teeth until her back arched and soft whimpers escaped her.

When he finally slid inside her, it was inch by measured inch, letting her feel the stretch, the heat, the perfect way he filled her completely.

She came quietly at first—a trembling sigh, fingers digging into his shoulders—then again, louder, her head falling back as the pleasure rolled through her in long, lazy waves.

He held her gaze the entire time, watching every flicker of surrender cross her face, and only let himself finish when she whispered his name like a prayer.

That morning set the pattern.

For the next thirty days, their secret relationship became the axis everything else turned around.

Ross never seemed to run out of ways to unravel her. He learned her body like a language he was fluent in—knew exactly how many slow circles around her clit would make her thighs shake, how deep to angle when he took her from behind so she’d gasp and claw at the sheets, how long to edge her with his mouth until tears streaked her cheeks and she begged in broken sentences.

Anita lived in a near-constant state of low-grade arousal and high-grade bliss.

Her days felt hazy, dreamlike; colors brighter, sounds softer, every nerve ending tuned to the memory of him.

She’d catch herself clenching around nothing in the middle of a meeting, thighs pressing together at the ghost of his touch.

A single text from him—nothing explicit, just “thinking about you”—was enough to make her wet and restless for hours.

She came so frequently with him that the orgasms began to bleed into one another.

One would crest and fade only for the next to already be building, her body greedy, insatiable. Multiple peaks weren’t a rarity anymore—they were routine.

He’d fuck her through three, four, sometimes five in a single session, drawing each one out until she was trembling, oversensitive, laughing and crying at the same time from the sheer intensity of it.

Afterward she’d lie boneless against him, pulse still fluttering, mind blissfully empty.

The guilt that had once stabbed at her in sharp, sudden bursts dulled to a faint background hum, then vanished entirely.

Her wedding ring no longer felt like a weight; she took it off the moment she stepped into his apartment and didn’t miss it.

Her husband’s kisses were forgotten. They were nothing like the way Ross devoured her mouth like he was starving.

One rainy afternoon, after he’d pinned her to the mattress and fucked her so hard the headboard rattled, she collapsed across his chest, still shaking from the last orgasm.

Her voice came out hoarse, almost surprised.

“I don’t even miss him anymore,” she murmured. “Not when I’m with you. Not even a little.”

Ross threaded his fingers through her damp hair, tipped her face up to meet his eyes. “Good,” he said simply. “Because I’m not sharing you.”

He kissed her then—slow, possessive, tasting faintly of salt and possession—and she melted into it completely.

Another round started almost immediately, gentler this time, but no less devastating.

She came twice more before they finally lay still, tangled and spent.

The month slipped past in a fever of skin and sighs. Anita floated through her ordinary life like a ghost—present but not really there—while every real moment belonged to Ross.

He had become oxygen: necessary, addictive, impossible to imagine living without.

Every time he pushed inside her, every time he made her shatter and rebuild around his cock, she sank deeper into the warm, endless sea of pleasure he’d drowned her in.

She didn’t know how long it could last.

She didn’t care.

For now, there was only this: his hands, his mouth, his voice growling filthy praise in her ear, and the next orgasm already rising like a tide she would happily let sweep her away forever.

And of course, Ross wouldn’t be Ross if he didn’t find a way to turn the situation to everyone’s advantage.

Another week passed.

The base had barely settled into a rhythm again when Ross returned—this time not alone.

The heavy doors slid open, and conversations across the command floor slowly died down as personnel noticed the unfamiliar presence walking a step behind him.

Ross stopped at the center of the room, hands casually in his pockets as if he hadn’t just dragged fate itself through the front entrance.

“Anita,” he called out calmly, though there was a hint of triumph in his tone. “I found him.”

Anita, who had been reviewing reports at the central table, froze.

For a moment, she didn’t move.

Then she looked up.

“What did you just say?” she asked, her voice tight.

Ross tilted his head slightly toward the man behind him.

“I said,” he repeated, a faint grin forming on his lips, “I found him.”

Anita’s eyes widened as realization dawned on her face, shock quickly replacing her usual composed expression.

A moment later, a thin figure stumbled forward.

He was gaunt—painfully so. His clothes hung loosely from his frail frame, and his cheeks were hollow from long-term hunger. It was obvious he hadn’t had proper food or rest in a long time.

Before anyone could react, he rushed toward Anita.

He crashed into her, nearly knocking her off balance as his arms wrapped tightly around her.

“Anita…” his voice broke.

The man began to cry—raw, unrestrained sobs that shook his entire body. He clung to her as if afraid she might disappear the moment he let go, his grip tightening with desperate relief.

Anita stood frozen for a second, shock written across her face.

Then her hands slowly rose, trembling slightly, and she embraced him back.