Evil MC's NTR Harem

Chapter 1043: Chapter 1043 Tower

Ross didn’t care about consequences; Ashley would only get pregnant if he allowed it.

Every release, every creampie, was under his control, and he took full advantage, filling her completely again and again.

Ashley gasped, moaned, and arched against him as his cock pulsed inside her, each spurt driving her closer to another climax even as she still shivered from the previous one.

The bed quickly became a slick, glistening mess of their combined love juices, soaked through the sheets, their intertwined bodies slick and sticky from their passion.

Ross didn’t stop; he continued to move, grinding and pressing into her, each motion forcing them to ride the edge of ecstasy over and over.

Ashley could barely breathe, her body trembling from exhaustion and the relentless pleasure he was giving her, yet she craved more—needed more—every nerve screaming for the raw, consuming connection between them.

Finally, when their bodies had spent themselves and their pulses began to slow, the scent and taste of their shared release hung thick in the air.

Ashley lay beneath him, panting, her skin flushed, her hair damp and tangled around her face.

Ross pressed a lingering kiss to her forehead, holding her close as they both slowly came down from the storm of sensation they had created together.

The bed beneath them was soaked, a messy, tangible reminder of the intensity, passion, and dominance Ross had brought—and of the depth of their shared, explosive pleasure.

"I..." Ashley tried to speak, her lips parting slightly, but the words never came.

A deep, heavy drowsiness washed over her, spreading from her trembling legs up to her fluttering eyelids.

Every inch of her body felt weak and languid, her muscles tingling from exhaustion and overuse.

The pleasure, the heat, the passion—all of it had finally caught up to her.

Ross had made love to her for nearly five hours, never once breaking rhythm, never once losing control.

He had explored every part of her, leaving her body trembling and her spirit adrift in a haze of bliss.

Now, utterly drained, Ashley could barely keep her eyes open.

Her breathing slowed to a soft rhythm, her chest rising and falling as she lay sprawled beneath the sheets.

She wanted to say something—to thank him, to tell him how unreal it all felt—but her body refused to move.

The weight of sleep pulled her under faster than she could resist.

Within moments, her lips curved into a faint, dreamy smile, and gentle snores began to escape her.

The sound was delicate, peaceful, almost melodic as it filled the quiet room.

Ross sat at the edge of the bed for a while, his eyes softening as he watched her sleep.

The dim light displayed a romantic ambience on them, casting a faint silver glow across Ashley’s bare skin, tracing the lines of her body like the brush of an artist’s hand.

She looked serene—fragile yet radiant, utterly at peace.

"Sleep for now, my love," Ross murmured, his voice low and tender.

He leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead, lingering for a moment as if memorizing the warmth of her skin.

Then, with careful movements, he adjusted her position, tucking the blanket around her so she wouldn’t catch a chill.

For a brief moment, he simply stood there, gazing down at her sleeping form.

A faint smile touched his lips—half pride, half affection.

Then, without a sound, he stepped away from the bed. The room remained quiet, save for the rhythm of Ashley’s soft breathing.

And just like that, Ross vanished—unseen, unheard—leaving behind only the scent of him in the air and the faint warmth of his touch lingering on her skin.

***

In the nights that followed, the world outside was silent except for the distant groans of the undead.

Yet within the crumbling safe house, Ashley’s nights were anything but peaceful.

Every night, without fail, there came a knock on her door.

It was always the same rhythm—firm, patient, unyielding. And every night, she knew exactly who it was.

Ross.

When she peeked through the crack of the door, she would find him standing there—calm, composed, yet with something in his eyes that stirred a storm in her heart.

He didn’t speak. He didn’t plead.

He simply waited, as though his presence alone was enough to wear her resistance down.

But Ashley never opened the door.

The guilt was too much.

Every time she saw him, memories of that night came flooding back—their bodies intertwined, her moans echoing through the dark, the pleasure that had consumed her completely.

It wasn’t supposed to happen, and yet... it did.

So she stayed silent, letting the guilt gnaw at her every time he came.

But Ross wasn’t a man easily dissuaded. His persistence was quiet but unwavering.

Every night, the same knock. Every night, the same stillness that followed when she didn’t answer.

He never raised his voice, never demanded entry.

He simply waited a few minutes, and then left—leaving behind a silence that weighed heavier on Ashley’s heart with each passing day.

Time blurred in the apocalypse. Days and nights bled together in a haze of fear and hunger.

A month had passed since the outbreak began, and several weeks since that night between them.

Ashley told herself she was over it, that she could just ignore him—but her heart betrayed her.

Each time she heard that familiar knock, her pulse quickened. Each time she ignored it, a hollow ache grew deeper inside her.

Then, one night, the knock came again—but this time, she couldn’t stay still.

Her hand moved on its own, trembling as she reached for the handle.

She hesitated for only a moment before finally opening the door.

Ross stood there, his face half-lit by the dim light of the flickering lantern in the hallway.

His clothes were worn, his eyes tired, but that calm, steady look of his hadn’t changed.

For a long, silent moment, they simply looked at each other. No words. No apologies.

Just quiet understanding.