Evil MC's NTR Harem

Chapter 386 CPU

Ross kept his promise. He stayed with his new wife, Jessica, at the resort for an entire week.

It was a deeply satisfying and unforgettable experience for Jessica.

During their stay, some police officers questioned them about several missing guests, but Ross and Jessica casually replied that they hadn’t seen anyone.

In reality, the handsome man and his companions—ten in total—were far too busy dying at the hands of myriad big ugly monsters.

To Ross, they were nothing but scum, and he didn’t spare them another thought.

When Ross and Jessica returned home, his wives were overjoyed to see him again.

The reunion, after a week apart, was truly a sight to behold—an emotional moment that needed no words.

That night, Ross unleashed his boundless energy, moving from one wife to the next, showering all 17 of them with his affection.

The room was filled with the sounds of passion and intimacy as they celebrated his return.

Yet, what mattered most wasn’t Ross’s masterful prowess but the warmth of his presence.

Their connection had grown far beyond the physical.

They had cultivated an emotional bond with their husband that transcended mere desire, cherishing the deep love and understanding they shared.

***

Time flew by, and in the blink of an eye, it was already April.

Ross and several of his wives had successfully completed the winter semester, and the promise of summer fun loomed ahead.

But before they could fully indulge, Ross had something important to take care of.

”It’s the NBA Play-In, and I hear Ross Oakley of the Parkland Knights is finally going to play,” one commentator remarked.

”I don’t know where you heard that,” another retorted.

”That self-important VIP wannabe may or may not show up, and frankly, I don’t care. Someone who doesn’t respect the sport like him doesn’t deserve to be here.”

”I’d have to disagree with you there,” the first commentator countered.

”When someone can shoot with 100% accuracy, it’s not hard to justify bending the rules a little. Ross Oakley has earned the right to be prideful. Hell, the NBA didn’t just bend the rules for him—they broke them. And let’s not forget, he’s only 18 years old!”

”Nineteen now,” corrected the second commentator. ”The kid had his birthday last December.”

While the commentators debated his worth, the man of the hour sat comfortably at home with his wives, entirely unbothered by the chatter.

”Ross, are you sure you’re not going to do some warm-up exercises?” The coach, a fit 50-year-old who looked younger than his age, approached him cautiously.

He was new to the team this year, replacing the previous coach who had loudly criticized Ross’s contract for being far too lenient.

Unsurprisingly, the organization promptly threw that coach under the bus.

It was clear to everyone, even the blind, that the Parkland Knights had placed all their bets on Ross Oakley.

Only a fool would dare contradict him now, which was why the new coach treaded carefully around the team’s star player—Mr. Perfect himself.

”I’m fine, Coach,” Ross replied with a grin.

”I got plenty of exercise last night. Enough to last me a century.” He winked at the coach.

”Ross! Shhh!” his wives complained, their faces turning red with embarrassment.

While they had no issues with Ross getting playful in private, most of them were still shy about such comments in public.

”What? You all have dirty minds!” Ross teased, bursting into laughter.

”I was playing NBA 2K25 last night. What were you girls thinking about?”

His wives pouted adorably, realizing he was just being a smart mouth again.

The coach sighed, shaking his head. He couldn’t help but feel a twinge of envy.

It really was something to be young, successful, and adored.

With that thought, he walked away, resigned to the fact that management had put all its faith in Ross’s talent—and he had no choice but to do the same.

Beep!

The whistle blew, signaling the start of the much-anticipated game between the Parkland Knights and the Aurora Arrows.

It was the Knights’ home court, and the electrifying energy of their fans reverberated throughout the packed arena.

The air was charged with excitement, the noise deafening as the crowd rallied behind their star player.

”Beat them, Ross!”

”Rain threes on them!”

”I bet my house and lot on this game, Ross! Don’t let me down!”

The fans’ shouts blended into a chaotic symphony, but Ross Oakley stood calm and composed, his focus unshakable.

While others might feel the weight of such expectations, Ross thrived under the pressure.

He was confident in his abilities—victory wasn’t just a possibility; it was inevitable.

As the game began, Ross moved with precision and grace, his every step calculated.

There was no need for flashy taunts or dramatic gestures; Ross let his actions speak louder than words.

His professional demeanor was a stark contrast to the intensity of the game, a testament to his unmatched composure on the court.

Swish!

The first shot cut through the air and sank cleanly through the net, setting the tone for what was to come.

One after another, Ross launched shot after shot, each one a flawless execution.

His movements were almost mechanical in their perfection, leaving no room for error.

The ball didn’t just hit the hoop—it sliced through without even grazing the rim, a sound that sent the crowd into a frenzy. Find more to read at .Côm

By the end of the first quarter, the Knights had pulled ahead by 15 points.

By halftime, they were leading by a staggering 30.

The Aurora Arrows were visibly shaken, struggling to find their footing against the unrelenting onslaught.

”Ross Oakley is the GOAT!” one commentator exclaimed, unable to contain his amazement.

”This kid is rewriting the rulebook of basketball. I’ve never seen such a flawless performance in my life!”

His co-commentator chimed in, equally stunned.

”Every shot is perfect. Every move calculated. It’s like watching a basketball machine. The Arrows don’t stand a chance tonight.”

Meanwhile, Ross remained unfazed by the praise.

He wasn’t playing for validation—he was playing to win.

His expression remained focused, his mind already planning the next move as the halftime buzzer sounded.

The Knights’ bench erupted in cheers as the players huddled together, celebrating their dominating lead.

Ross, however, simply grabbed a towel and sat down, his wives in the stands cheering wildly.

He acknowledged them with a small wave and a confident smile before turning his attention back to the game plan.

This wasn’t just another game. It was another chapter in the legend of Ross Oakley.

And as the second half loomed, one thing was clear to everyone in the arena: the Aurora Arrows were up against something they could neither match nor stop.