Evil MC's NTR Harem-Chapter 686 Material

Chapter 686 -686 Material

“We’ve decided it’s time,” Jade said, her voice lowering with emotion.

She too walked towards Ross in the middle of the living room.

“We’ve watched you be a leader, a protector, a provider. But more than anything… we’ve watched you be a father. A wonderful one. Alistair is ten now. The others adore you. You never play favorites. You give them all your love—and us, too.”

Mary stood stepped closer, placing a hand over Ross’s chest, right where his heart beat strong. “We’re ready, Ross. We want another child. Each of us.”

Ross’s hands stilled. He looked around at them, eyes searching their faces.

There was no hesitation in their expressions. Just desire… and something deeper.

Devotion. Trust.

April tilted her head, her voice suddenly low and breathy. “We want you to make us mothers. Tonight. No barriers. No delays. Just you… and us. The way it was meant to be.”

Ross swallowed hard. Every part of him burned. The heat in the room intensified, and his slacks suddenly felt too tight. “You all planned this?” His wives crowded around him now.

Maya nodded, lips brushing against his jaw. “Days ago. We waited for the perfect night.”

“And tonight,” Hazel whispered into his ear, “the kids are with your parents. All night. No interruptions. Just us.”

Ross exhaled sharply, his restraint fraying. “You’re all dangerous, you know that?”

Iris said next. “Then come tame us. Fuck us long hard and rough and fill our cunts with your hot come and impregnate us down to the last woman.”

That was all it took.

Ross surged forward, pulling Jasmine into a kiss that left her breathless.

His arms wrapped around her as his hands explored her familiar curves, rediscovering the places that made her sigh.

The others joined in, surrounding him, touching, teasing, guiding him to the plush couch where his suit and control were both abandoned.

The passion ignited instantly—raw, consuming, and filled with the kind of intimacy only shared by those deeply connected.

The hours that followed were a blur of silk sheets, tangled limbs, and whispered confessions.

“Ahhhhh…”

“Ohhhhh…”

“Ughhhhh…” Moans filled the halls, soft at first, then louder, more desperate, more beautiful.

Ross moved between them with purpose, worshipping each of his wives with a lover’s precision and a partner’s tenderness.

He kissed every inch of skin, spoke words only they were meant to hear, and gave himself completely—again and again.

By the time the moon hung high in the sky, the room was thick with the scent of passion, and his wives lay curled around him, content and flushed.

Their breaths were slow, satisfied, their fingers lazily tracing patterns on his chest and stomach.

The promise they had made—to bear his children once more—was sealed in both word and body.

And Ross? He lay at the center of it all, the quiet king in a kingdom of love, thinking only one thing as sleep finally began to claim him:

This is what forever feels like.

Ross didn’t hesitate. With the children away at their grandfather’s house for an extended visit, the rare silence that filled the home became a blank canvas—one that he and his wives painted with passion, laughter, and pure, unrestrained love.

What began as a single evening of intimacy quickly turned into something much more—a full week devoted entirely to one another.

Ross made love to them during the day and again at night, with a hunger that never faded.

Time lost its grip on them.

The days and nights blurred together into one endless stream of touch, heat, and shared breath.

It was a marathon of affection, desire, and emotional closeness that none of them had ever experienced before.

They only paused when absolutely necessary—brief moments to eat, hydrate, or shower, and even those moments were often shared.

The bathroom became another sanctuary for kisses, slow caresses under steaming water, and soft laughter echoing off tile walls.

Even their meals were light and quick, often eaten while resting in each other’s arms between sessions, the taste of food mingling with the taste of skin.

Ross took his time with each of them. There was no rush, no competition.

Just love—expressed through endless variations of closeness and connection.

Every woman was adored in her own unique way, her body and heart explored with care.

He knew their rhythms, their favorite touches, their secret smiles.

And they knew his. What they shared wasn’t just sex—it was communion.

They moved through the house like a storm of silk and skin and breathless moans.

In the mornings, Ross would carry one of them to the balcony to greet the sunrise, their bodies moving in sync as the first light spilled across their skin.

By midday, they’d find themselves tangled on the wide couch in the living room, limbs wrapped around each other as the soft hum of music played in the background.

In the kitchen, they made memories pressed against countertops and cabinets, their passion igniting amidst the scent of fresh coffee and fruit.

And then there was the swimming pool.

Under moonlight, the water shimmered like liquid starlight, and Ross made love to them one by one in its warm embrace.

Their moans echoed beneath the open sky, soft and melodic, a secret offered to the night.

The water wrapped around them as if it, too, wanted to be part of their closeness.

It was in those moments—weightless, floating, connected—that they felt truly free.

Each room became its own chapter.

The grand staircase, with its smooth wood and polished banisters, bore witness to whispered promises and stolen kisses.

The study became a place not of reading, but of rediscovery—of bodies and trust.

Even the guest rooms, rarely used, came alive with soft sighs and the heat of shared moments.

By the fourth night, their bodies ached in the most delicious way.

Yet the desire hadn’t dimmed—it had deepened, settled into something primal and affectionate.

They weren’t just fulfilling a need; they were reveling in the bond they’d built over years of trust, growth, and devotion.