"I rember that your sister's 18th birthday is next month, Amy," he mused, tracing idle circles on her bare shoulder.
"Invite , okay? I'll make sure to bring a huge gift for her."
Amy, who had been resting comfortably against his chest, imdiately tensed.
Her fingers twitched slightly, and a frown crept onto her face.
She did not like where this was going.
She had intentionally avoided ntioning her sister's upcoming birthday, purposefully keeping it from Ross.
And now he knew?
Her heart pounded as she pushed herself up slightly, eting his gaze.
"I wasn't planning on bringing you," she admitted cautiously.
Ross simply smirked, clearly unbothered. "Oh? And why's that?"
Amy hesitated, her mind racing.
"Are you… are you planning to use that as an opportunity to take revenge on my sister Sandra?" she asked warily.
Amy had two sisters—one was the youngest, turning 18 next month, while Sandra, the eldest, was already 25.
Sandra was strong-willed, independent, and fiercely protective of her younger siblings.
She had never liked Ross, not even before Amy had fallen for him.
If anyone had been most vocal about keeping Amy away from any bad boys, it was Sandra.
Ross chuckled, shaking his head slightly.
"This is why I like you, Amy," he murmured, amusent glinting in his eyes.
"You're smart."
That only made Amy more nervous.
Her throat felt dry.
"You're not going to hurt her, are you?" she pressed, her voice tinged with genuine concern.
She had fallen for Ross, yes. She couldn't even deny it anymore.
He had pulled her into his orbit, and she no longer wanted to leave.
But Sandra… Sandra was family.
She loved her sister. Sandra had always been there for her—protecting her, guiding her, caring for her in ways no one else had.
Amy couldn't stand the thought of anything bad happening to her.
Ross tilted his head slightly, watching her.
"Hurt?" he echoed, his lips curling into sothing wicked.
"Oh, quite the opposite."
Amy swallowed hard.
Ross leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a husky whisper.
"I'm going to make her feel good."
***
The days passed, and Amy found herself happier than she had ever been in her life.
Ross hadn't changed at all—if anything, he had only beco more attentive, more caring, more intoxicatingly addictive.
He spoiled her, cherished her, and made her feel like she truly belonged at his side.
At first, she had worried about how his wives would treat her, but to her surprise, they welcod her with open arms.
There was no jealousy, no resentnt—only understanding and warmth.
They treated her like a sister, guiding her through this new chapter of her life.
But what shocked her the most wasn't how well Ross treated her.
It was what she witnessed whenever she was invited to his house.
On those nights, she found herself stepping into a world unlike anything she had ever imagined.
A world of pleasure, of indulgence, of pure ecstasy.
Amy would sit in awe as Ross made love to his wives, one by one, taking his ti with each of them.
His movents were srizing—slow and passionate at first, then rough and primal when their bodies demanded more.
It was like watching a master at work, an artist painting on the most delicate canvas.
She had heard stories about how good Ross was in bed from his wives, but seeing it with her own eyes was sothing else entirely.
She saw one of his wives climax the mont he entered her, her body shuddering violently, tears of pleasure streaming down her face.
At first, Amy was skeptical.
That can't be real… right?
But then—
It was her turn.
When Ross finally turned to her, his smoldering gaze locking onto hers, her heart pounded so hard it threatened to burst from her chest.
The other wives watched with knowing smiles, as if they already understood what was about to happen to her.
Ross didn't rush.
Instead, he pulled her into his arms, cradling her body against his own.
His lips brushed against her ear, sending shivers down her spine.
"Are you ready, Amy?"
She couldn't even answer.
Her breath hitched as he kissed her—slow, deep, and intoxicating.
His tongue invaded her mouth, claiming her fully, making her knees weak.
Then, finally—finally—he pushed his cock inside her.
And in that instant, Amy understood.
"FUCK! ROSSSSS!"
She scread, her back arching off the bed as her body exploded in pleasure.
It was instant. Imdiate. Overwhelming.
The mont he entered her, the mont he filled her completely—her mind shattered.
It wasn't just sex.
It was sothing more.
Sothing deeper.
It felt as if Ross wasn't just making love to her body, but to her soul, her spirit, to sothing beyond human comprehension.
Amy's eyes rolled back, her vision blurring as wave after wave of pleasure crashed over her.
She had never felt anything like this before—nothing close to this.
Ross was ruining her.
She ca once.
Twice.
Three tis—before she could even process what was happening.
Her entire body trembled uncontrollably, her legs wrapped desperately around Ross, trying to hold him inside her.
"Oh God—oh God—oh God—"
She was gone.
Her mind was blank, wiped clean by pure pleasure.
And Ross—he was relentless.
He moved inside her with slow, deliberate thrusts, making her feel every inch, every vein, every unbearable inch of his cock stretching her tight walls.
Amy's moans beca frantic, incoherent.
She had never felt this good before.
No other man could even compare.
She knew—deep in her soul—Ross had ruined her.
She would never be able to live without this.
Without him.
She was addicted.
Hooked.
Completely and utterly his.
Now Amy truly understood why Ross had so many beautiful wives and lovers, despite not being the most traditionally handso man.
It wasn't his face.
It wasn't just his wealth or power, though those certainly played a role.
It was his cock.
That was his true secret weapon—the reason why won willingly surrendered themselves to him, why they craved him, why they belonged to him.
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