Evil MC's NTR Harem

Another round came—and then a third, and a fourth. Ross was insatiable, like a man possessed, and Ashley had no complaints.

He took her to the edge and beyond, over and over, until her legs trembled and her body quivered with overstimulation.

She had long since stopped counting how many times she'd climaxed.

Her voice had gone hoarse from moaning, her skin slick with sweat, her thoughts a jumbled haze of ecstasy and surrender.

Her inner slut, the one she always kept hidden beneath layers of civility and restraint, had broken free completely.

"Yes! Yes, yes!" she screamed without shame, her voice cracking with lust.

"Fuck me, Lyric! Fuck me hard!"

"I'm your whore—your slut—your everything!"

"I belong to you, just don't stop! Please, don't stop!"

There was no holding back now. Ashley had surrendered herself entirely to the pleasure he gave her.

But she wasn't just lying there, letting it happen—no, she was fully immersed, just as wild and hungry as he was.

She moved with him, ground her hips in sync with his thrusts, gasping and moaning as she pushed her body back against his.

Their rhythm was chaotic, primal, but it was perfect for the madness of the moment.

She clung to him like he was the only thing keeping her grounded, her nails dragging down his back as waves of euphoria crashed over her.

Her heart pounded against her ribcage.

Her body burned for him, ached for him, needed more, even when her limbs were already too weak to move on their own.

And Ross didn't stop. He took everything she gave and demanded more, kissing her breathless, whispering filth into her ear that made her toes curl and her mind melt.

By the time the final orgasm hit, Ashley was beyond thought—beyond words.

Her entire body seized up with bliss so intense it left her shaking violently. Stars danced in her vision.

A sob of pleasure tore from her throat, and with a final cry, she collapsed into the sheets, her body limp and spent, her chest rising and falling in erratic breaths.

She passed out with a faint smile on her lips, her pussy still twitching from the aftershocks, her heart full.

Nothing—absolutely nothing—could compare to what she felt that night. It wasn't just sex. It was transcendence.

***

December arrived, and as expected, Ross married Nicole.

The wedding was grand, lavish—fitting for someone of Ross's status.

Cameras flashed, guests cheered, and the world watched as the billionaire playboy officially tied the knot.

But beneath all the celebration and surface-level romance, there were layers of secrets buried deep in Ross's carefully constructed world.

One of those secrets was Ashley.

He didn't attend the wedding in his Lyric persona. It would've been easy.

He had the means, the resources, the technology.

A clone could've taken his place beside Nicole while he spent the day indulging in Ashley's body, whispering sweet filth in her ear, making her forget all about her dull, dutiful husband.

But Ross didn't bother. Not because he lacked the desire—but because he knew it wasn't the right time.

Ashley, despite everything they had shared, still had her own reservations.

Much like her husband Cyril, she wasn't overly fond of Ross—not as a person, and certainly not as a son-in-law.

She loved Lyric because Lyric fulfilled her in everything she wanted and needed, but Ross?

Ashley considered the real Ross as a lowlife that did not deserve to be with her daughter Nicole.

So, Ross let it be. He didn't push. There was no need.

He had learned long ago that timing and patience often achieved far more than brute force.

The day would come when Ashley would fall not just into his bed, but into his hands completely—as Ross, not Lyric.

When that day arrived, there would be no more lies, no more masks. Only truth. Only him.

Of course, for that to happen, Lyric would have to disappear.

That identity—while useful, convenient, even entertaining—was ultimately a complication.

Ross didn't want to build a future on half-truths and illusions. He didn't want his women loving a mask.

He wanted them to love him—Ross Oakley, the man behind the power, the mind behind the manipulations, the one who orchestrated it all.

It wasn't just about ego. It was practicality. Life was already complex enough.

With secret affairs woven into every corner of his life, managing identities, maintaining deceptions, and constantly playing puppet master was exhausting—even for someone like him.

Ross wanted control, yes, but he also wanted peace, loyalty, and something close to permanence.

The only way to get that was to strip away the games when the time was right and reveal himself fully.

But not yet.

For now, he played the roles.

He kissed Nicole in front of the cameras, whispered promises into the ears of other women behind closed doors, and kept Lyric alive for the sake of convenience.

But in his mind, the pieces were already moving. Ashley would be his—truly his. It wasn't a matter of if, only when.

And when that moment came, everything would fall into place.

***

The year 2033 came, marking another milestone in Ross's secret life—a new chapter that brought both joy and complexity.

Ashley had given birth to a healthy baby boy. They named him Daniel.

From the moment Ross laid eyes on the child, a strange mix of pride, warmth, and possessiveness welled up in his chest.

It wasn't just another conquest. This was his blood. His legacy.

Even as he continued living publicly as Nicole's husband, Ross didn't abandon his responsibilities.

In his alternate identity as Lyric, he made sure Ashley and Daniel were cared for—physically, emotionally, and financially.

A clone of Lyric was always present, playing the role of loving partner and doting father, blending into their lives seamlessly.

He brought groceries, played with Daniel, made Ashley laugh on slow afternoons. It was a polished routine—flawless to the untrained eye.

But Ross had boundaries.

He never allowed a clone to take his place in the bedroom. That was sacred territory.

That was his domain.

It didn't matter how lifelike or obedient the clones were—there were some things only the real Ross Oakley could and would do.

The idea of a clone touching Ashley that way—of Ashley moaning under something that wasn't truly him—was unacceptable.

He'd never tolerate such humiliation, even from himself.

And so, every time Ashley needed him—truly needed him—Ross came in person.

He'd hold her, touch her, remind her why no other man could compare.

He took pleasure in seeing her melt for him, in knowing that she belonged to him in a way no one else ever had or ever would.

One quiet night, after hours of slow, tender lovemaking, Ashley nestled against him in the bed they shared in secret.

Her voice was sleepy, warm, and filled with emotion.

"I love you, Lyric," she murmured, eyes fluttering shut.

Ross kissed her forehead gently, smiling to himself. "I love you too, honey."

And though she called him Lyric, Ross knew she meant him. Not the name. Not the mask. Him. The man. The father of her child.

Ashley, in that moment, felt like the happiest woman in the world. She had a man who made her feel alive, cherished, and wanted.

She had a beautiful baby boy she adored with all her heart.

Her days were filled with joy and passion—things she never imagined finding again, especially not like this.

But even as her heart overflowed, a shadow of guilt lingered.

She hadn't told Nicole the truth.

Her daughter had no idea that her mother now had a child with a man that wasn't her husband.

How could she explain it?

How could she begin to unravel the tangled mess of emotions, secrets, and betrayal that tied them all together?

Nicole was grown, married, living her own life—but still, she was her daughter.

And Ashley knew, deep down, that the truth would hurt her.

But not yet.

That confrontation would come someday, but not now. For the time being, Ashley clung to her happiness.

She convinced herself that she deserved this joy after all the years of loneliness and suppression. Nicole didn't need to know.

Not yet. Perhaps, not ever—if things went according to plan.

What mattered most to her now was Ross—and their son, Daniel. She couldn't afford to think too far ahead.

Every moment spent in Ross's arms felt like a stolen treasure, something delicate and beautiful, and she wasn't ready to let go.

Ross, on the other hand, was already thinking ahead.

He knew the time would come when Lyric would have to disappear for good.

Eventually, the veil would lift, the secrets would unravel, and everything would be laid bare.

Ashley, Nicole, the world—they would all have to face the real Ross Oakley.

But until then, he would keep playing his roles, pulling the strings, and quietly building the life he truly wanted—one where all his women belonged only to him, where Daniel would carry his name and legacy, and where no mask would be needed anymore.

But the path to that future would require careful planning, brutal choices, and perfect timing.

And Ross, as always, was ready to wait.