Evil MC's NTR Harem

Chapter 1231: Chapter 1231 Art

Bella had never been able to take Ross into her mouth before.

It had always felt impossible—too overwhelming, too painful, too much for her to handle.

But a few days ago, she had forced herself to try anyway.

It wasn’t out of desire alone—it was jealousy.

A deep, irrational, burning jealousy toward Jenny that gnawed at her pride and self-worth.

The experience had been excruciating.

Her jaw ached, her throat burned, and it felt as if her mouth might split apart from the strain.

Tears had welled in her eyes, and her body had trembled, but she refused to stop.

She pushed through the pain, driven purely by the desperate need to prove something—to herself, to Ross, and to Jenny, even if Jenny wasn’t there to see it.

Yet even after enduring that, her cravings did not fade.

Every night, the hunger returned stronger than before.

Her body ached with need, her thoughts spiraled, and she found herself unable to sleep without imagining Ross again.

The desire was relentless, consuming, and completely out of her control.

No matter how much it hurt, no matter how ashamed or conflicted she felt, her body still yearned for him, night after night, refusing to let go.

Held there, eyes watering, throat working around him.

When she pulled back gasping, strings of spit connecting her lips to his cock, she rasped:

“And Jenny? You’re giving her everything. Every morning, every night. You look at her like she’s your fucking salvation.”

Ross’s thumb brushed a tear from her cheek—gentle, almost tender.

“She is. Right now. You are too. You’re not the same piece, Bella. But you’re both necessary. I’m greedy. I know it. I don’t apologize for it. And you don’t go to me in the morning, remember? You always wait at night time which is fine also.”

Bella stared up at him—lips swollen, chin slick, anger still simmering but undercut with raw need.

“You’re gonna keep us both,” she said. Not a question.

“Yeah,” he answered. “Until this base falls or I stop breathing. Whichever comes first.”

She didn’t reply with words. Instead she dove back in—sucking harder, faster, one hand pumping the base while the other cupped his balls.

Ross’s hips rocked forward; his breathing turned jagged.

When he was close—thighs tensing, cock throbbing against her tongue—she pulled off completely.

Stroked him slow and firm, looking up.

“Don’t come yet,” she said. “Not until you prove I’m not second place tonight.”

Ross hauled her up by the arms—rougher than usual—kissed her bruisingly hard.

She tasted herself on him from earlier memories, tasted Jenny, tasted anger and want.

She bit his lip; he growled.

He spun her, shoved her face-down over the bunk.

Yanked the T-shirt up to her waist—no panties underneath.

He kicked her feet wider, lined up, and thrust in deep in one brutal stroke.

Bella’s cry ripped through the room—loud, broken, triumphant.

“Fuck—*yes*—”

He didn’t hold back.

One hand fisted in her hair, arching her back; the other gripped her hip hard enough to bruise.

Each thrust slammed her forward, bunk frame rattling, mattress creaking.

She clawed the sheets, pushed back to meet him, moaning his name like a prayer and a curse.

“You feel that?” he rasped against her ear. “That’s you. All of you. Not second. Not backup. You.”

She shattered first—screaming, thighs shaking, walls pulsing around him.

He fucked her through it, relentless, until she was whimpering oversensitive pleas.

Only then did he let go—burying deep with a guttural groan, filling her while she trembled beneath him.

They collapsed together—sweat-slick, panting, his weight heavy and grounding on her back.

After a long minute, he kissed the nape of her neck. Soft. Almost reverent.

“Still pissed?” he murmured.

Bella laughed—hoarse, breathless. “A little. But you’re still an asshole.”

He chuckled against her skin. “Yeah. But I’m your asshole.”

Down the hall, in his separate room, Sebastian lay awake.

He heard every sound—Bella’s sharp cry when Ross entered her, the rhythmic slap of skin, her broken moans climbing higher and higher.

He knew the exact moment she came; he’d memorized that sound over months.

He didn’t get up. Didn’t bang on the door.

Just closed his eyes, hand slipping beneath his waistband, stroking himself in slow, measured pulls.

Tears pricked the corners of his eyes—not from pain, exactly.

From love that had twisted into something kinder, quieter, more complicated.

In this world, letting go was sometimes the only way to hold on.

And tomorrow, the sun would rise. Patrols would go out. The dead would still scratch at the fences.

But tonight, at least, everyone got what they needed.

Even if it hurt.

While Sebastian lay motionless in his separate room—door cracked the way he always left it, like some small, masochistic invitation—the sounds began again.

He knew them by heart now. The soft click of a lock down the hall. The faint rustle of fabric.

The low murmur of voices too quiet to make out words. Then the first sharp intake of breath.

Then the moans.

In Bella’s room, the air was thick with heat and intent.

Bella slipped in like a shadow, already flushed, eyes bright with the familiar chemical hunger that never fully left her.

Ross continued to make love to Bella roughly.

He caught her by the waist, spun her, pressed her back to the wall.

His mouth crashed into hers—hard, possessive, swallowing the first desperate whimper she let escape.

Clothes came off in frantic pulls.

He lifted her effortlessly, legs hooking around his hips.

One deep, brutal thrust and she was impaled, head falling back against the concrete with a dull thud.

“Ahhhh—fuck—Ross—”

The cry was loud in the sealed room, raw and immediate.

Still, no matter how hard Bella cried, only Sebastian could hear her. Ross had made sure of that.

He didn’t want Jenny to know—at least not yet—that he was still sleeping with Bella.

Someday, Jenny would find out. But not tonight.

Tonight, the truth would remain buried in silence, locked behind closed doors and unspoken tears.