Chapter 965: Chapter 965 Legion
Each sound sent a shiver down her spine, stirring a fire she could neither ignore nor extinguish.
Her body throbbed with desire, every nerve ending aching in frustration, as though it remembered pleasures she had not yet been allowed to feel.
Alexa pressed a hand against her chest, trying to steady the rapid beat of her heart, but the heat radiating from within her would not be quelled.
She felt her breath catch, her skin tingling as if every sound from the other room was a spark igniting the flames of her longing.
Weeks of sexual frustration had accumulated, each day amplifying the ache that now consumed her.
She had been denied, teased by the mere proximity of Ross’s energy, by the dominance he held over the women she watched and heard.
Her thoughts became a whirl of desperation.
She remembered Ross’s confidence, his effortless ability to satisfy the women around her, and her own inability to claim the same attention.
She imagined the way he touched Carrie and Nina, the intensity in their voices as they responded to him—images that sent a shiver through her, making her knees weak.
Her fingers flexed against her thighs as she tried to distract herself, to release some of the tension that coiled tightly within.
But the more she resisted, the more vivid her arousal became.
The echoes of pleasure in the house acted like a cruel tease, a reminder of the desire that had been locked away, unfulfilled.
She leaned against the sink in the washroom, gripping the edge as her body trembled.
Every fiber of her being screamed for release, and yet there was nothing she could do.
Her mind drifted to fantasies she dared not act upon, each one more daring than the last, but all forbidden.
The frustration built like a storm, pulsing through her veins, setting her skin aflame.
Her lips parted in a soft sigh, and she closed her eyes, imagining Ross, imagining the touch and passion she had been craving.
The contrast between her helplessness and the overwhelming vitality of his presence elsewhere in the house gnawed at her, heightening every ache and pang of desire.
She felt trapped in her own body, her longing made sharper by the distant moans of Carrie and Nina, echoing like a reminder of what she could not yet claim.
Alexa’s frustration was no longer a gentle simmer—it had become a firestorm, consuming her thoughts, her body, and her will.
And as she stood there alone, trembling and desperate, she knew that this torment would not be relieved until she finally confronted the very force that had ignited it.
“Hahhhhh… I can’t believe I’m doing this. I’m too old for this,” Alexa whispered shakily, but her hands didn’t listen.
They slid over her curves as if starved of touch, kneading her breasts, pinching her nipples until they stiffened painfully.
Her breath quickened, her body betraying her with every second.
“No… I shouldn’t…” she muttered, but her other hand had already slipped lower, gliding past her stomach until it found the slick heat waiting between her thighs.
“Ahhh…” she let out the faintest moan, clamping her lips shut in panic. If her husband heard her, if anyone found out—her face burned at the thought.
But the risk only made her wetter, her fingers moving in desperate circles as her body begged for more.
It wasn’t just her touch that sent her over the edge—it was the sounds echoing from the rest of the house.
The moans. The cries.
The unmistakable sound of flesh meeting flesh in a relentless rhythm.
Carrie’s voice. Nina’s voice.
Ross.
Alexa’s legs trembled.
She collapsed onto the toilet seat for support, her head falling back against the wall as her fingers worked harder and harder, chasing the sinful heat that swelled inside her.
What is he doing to them right now? she thought feverishly. How does he take them, make them scream like that?
Her eyes fluttered shut, and her imagination betrayed her fully.
She saw herself there, in the room with them, on the bed instead of her daughter, instead of Nina.
She imagined Ross’s massive body pinning her down, his strength overwhelming her as his cock stretched her open.
She could almost feel it—the way he would pound her until she cried, the way his rough hands would grip her hips, the way he wouldn’t stop even when she begged.
“Ahhhh… Ross…” the name slipped out before she realized it, her fingers plunging deep inside as her hips bucked wildly.
She was gone. Lost.
Her climax hit her like a tidal wave.
“Ahhhhhhhhhh! Noooo…!” Alexa moaned through clenched teeth, her body shaking violently as her pussy gushed, squirting uncontrollably all over the toilet seat.
Her thighs trembled, her breath came in ragged gasps, and her mind swam with forbidden ecstasy.
It was the hardest orgasm she had ever had in her entire life—and it was all because she pictured her daughter’s man inside her.
Her body slumped, trembling, weak as jelly. Her hand slipped away from her soaked pussy, dripping with her own juices.
For a moment she just sat there, dizzy, her chest rising and falling as the aftershocks of pleasure refused to leave her.
And then, reality struck.
“No… no, no, no…” Alexa whispered, covering her face with her hands. “What am I doing?!”
She scrambled to grab tissue, frantically trying to clean herself, her thighs still quivering from the orgasm.
She wiped down the toilet seat, terrified that if her husband came in later he’d see the evidence of her lust.
Her heart pounded like a drum, sweat dripping down her temples.
But even as she tried to hide the act, one thought refused to leave her mind.
That was the best orgasm I’ve ever had.
She swallowed hard, her lips trembling, her pussy still throbbing with need.
No matter how hard she tried to deny it, the truth rang in her chest with painful clarity.
She wanted Ross.
Not in a passing thought. Not in a fleeting fantasy. She wanted him for real.
She wanted to feel his cock inside her, to know what made Carrie and Nina scream like that.
And the worst part?
She knew this wasn’t the last time she would touch herself while imagining him.
Alexa buried her face in her hands, shame and longing tearing her apart.
Ross saw exactly what Alexa was doing and feeling in that moment, and a sly smile tugged at his lips.
Even while his hips pounded mercilessly into his girlfriends, his sharp eyes didn’t miss the way Alexa’s body trembled behind the bathroom door.
He could almost sense her climax, almost hear the muffled gasp she tried so hard to suppress.
But he didn’t stop.
His forceful thrusts continued to slam into Nina and Carrie, each moan from them deliberately drawn out, each cry of pleasure echoing through the walls of the house.
He wanted Alexa to hear everything. He wanted her restless, sleepless, and burning with a desire she didn’t dare admit.
Not yet, Ross thought, his smirk widening as he pinned Nina down and drove into her harder. There’s no need to rush. She’ll come to me in time.
He decided then and there to take things slow.
After all, he wasn’t some desperate man chasing after scraps—he had all the time in the world.
The more she resisted, the sweeter her surrender would be.
And so the nights continued like this. For an entire week, Alexa endured the torment.
Every night, her house filled with the sounds of Ross and her daughter and Nina, their cries of ecstasy stretching until dawn.
Every night, Alexa buried her face into her pillow, her body betraying her as she clenched her thighs together, soaked and sleepless.
Ross knew she was suffering, and he relished it.
Finally, after a week of this slow, deliberate torture, Ross made his next move.
A plan so simple it was almost elegant.
He planted the idea into Russell’s mind—subtly, almost innocently—that the bedroom needed new furniture.
A new cabinet, to be precise.
The thought stuck, and as Ross knew it would, Russell grew convinced it was his own idea.
He brought it up casually to Alexa, and after a little discussion, she agreed.
That weekend, Russell came home with the heavy, complicated cabinet in pieces.
Determined to impress his wife, he began assembling it on his own.
But, as Ross had expected, Russell was hopeless with tools.
The more he tried, the more he fumbled, the parts lying scattered on the floor in complete disarray.
And of course, Ross was “conveniently” nearby.
He appeared at just the right moment, rolling up his sleeves, muscles flexing beneath his shirt, his confident smirk in place.
“Need a hand, Russell?” Ross asked smoothly, his deep voice carrying both amusement and certainty that he already knew the answer.
Alexa stood to the side, arms crossed, trying to mask her irritation at her husband’s incompetence—but her eyes betrayed her.
They flickered toward Ross, drawn to the strength in his arms, the casual confidence in his posture.
Ross caught that look.
And he smiled.