Evil MC's NTR Harem - Chapter 151

Chapter 151: Chapter 151 Midnight
On the bed lay one man and seven stunning women. The scene was chaotic yet mesmerizing, a strange harmony of passion and intensity.

Ross was a wild lover, every move deliberate and impactful, leaving the women gasping, moaning, and expressing their unrestrained pleasure.

Their cries of ecstasy filled the room, amplifying the surreal spectacle. This overwhelming display left Gwen and Asher frozen in place, their thoughts racing.

“How is he even doing that?”

“And seven girls at once!”

“Oh my God. What is that?”

“It’s so huge! At least three times bigger than my husband’s!” Gwen’s thoughts spiraled into chaos.

She couldn’t remember the last time her husband had brought her to the peak of lovemaking, and witnessing these women repeatedly reaching their orgasms one after another was utterly mind-blowing to her.

Asher, on the other hand, was less focused on the scene before them. His attention shifted to Gwen, noticing her flushed cheeks and the subtle signs of arousal on her face.

“Should I go for it?” he wondered, the question gnawing at him.

Moments later, he decided to act. Tentatively, he reached for Gwen’s head, leaning in to plant a torrid, passionate kiss. He hoped to take things further, but reality had other plans.

“BANG!”

Before he could process what was happening, Asher’s world flipped upside down—literally. He hit the floor hard, landing with a loud thud.

Thankfully, no bones were broken, but his pride took a serious blow.

“I apologize, Gwen. I wasn’t thinking clearly,” he groaned, wincing as he rubbed his aching backside.

“Yes, you weren’t,” Gwen snapped, her voice sharp with anger. “You have a wife, for God’s sake! And I have a husband. If you try something like that again, I’ll see to it that you end up behind bars!”

Her fury was palpable, not just at Asher for his actions but also at herself for momentarily losing focus in the heat of the moment.

From the bed, Ross’s deep voice interrupted the tension.

“Hmm… It seems we have uninvited guests,” he remarked, standing and leisurely getting dressed. “Let’s pause this, ladies. I’ll deal with them.”

His nonchalant demeanor only added to the strange, surreal atmosphere of the night as he prepared to confront Gwen and Asher.

The investigation proceeded as planned.

“Where were you between 3 PM and 11 PM yesterday?” Gwen asked, her tone sharp and professional.

They were seated in the living room. Only Ross and Maya were present, as the inquiry concerned them directly. Asher sat beside Gwen, while Ross and Maya occupied the opposite side of the sofa.

“I was with my girlfriend Mary at the Roadside Hotel,” Ross replied smoothly, his expression calm. “I spent the night there and left around 11 to pick up Maya.”

Ross delivered his alibi flawlessly. For someone who could bend reality itself, fabricating a plausible story was effortless.

For the next 30 minutes, Gwen meticulously questioned both Ross and Maya. Despite her efforts, she found nothing concrete.

Maya maintained that she had simply gone out to meet a friend and claimed she hadn’t seen any Black Cross gang members at all.

“It’s her word against a maintenance worker’s,” Gwen thought grimly. Without solid evidence, the accusations were as insubstantial as a castle built on air.

Finally, Gwen stood and gave a polite nod.

“Good night. Please don’t leave the city while the investigation is ongoing. And be careful—those responsible for tonight’s crimes might be watching you.”

With those parting words, Gwen and Asher left Ross’s home, their frustration evident as they stepped out into the quiet night.

“So, what do we do now? We’re back to square one,” Asher muttered, munching on a piece of chocolate.

“No, we’re not,” Gwen replied firmly. “My gut tells me Ross is somehow connected to the killings. We don’t have any solid suspects yet, and he’s as good a lead as any for now.”

“A stakeout, then. Fun,” Asher grumbled sarcastically.

A few minutes later, they were back on the road. As they drove, Gwen remembered something.

“What you did earlier—don’t speak about it to anyone,” she warned, her tone sharp.

“I won’t,” Asher said quickly. “And I’m sorry again, Gwen. It’s just that you’re… too beautiful to resist.”

As he spoke, his eyes kept drifting to her instead of the road ahead.

“Eyes on the road, Officer Asher,” Gwen said, her voice tinged with both amusement and warning. “I know I’m beautiful. I know the effect I have on men—whether they’re sixteen or sixty. I forgive you, but don’t let it happen again, or I’ll have no choice but to request a new partner. You wouldn’t want that, would you?” Gwen added the last part with a teasing smile, trying to lighten the mood.

“No, that’d be bad,” Asher sighed, though a pang of loneliness lingered in his chest.

Still, he shook off the feeling as best he could. Deep down, he promised himself he’d make things right—starting with his wife.

He vowed to focus on her, to rekindle their passion, fuck her senseless tonight, and to stop letting his thoughts and actions be driven by his impulses.

* * *

A week later, Asher and Gwen had been conducting surveillance on Ross and his associates for five relentless days. Despite their best efforts, progress was slow, leaving both detectives frustrated and fatigued.

“Wow! How does someone manage to satisfy seven girls at the same time and do it every single night? Where does he get all that energy? And his cock is just—”

“Asher, shut it!” Gwen snapped, her voice sharp as a whip. “I don’t need to hear that coming from you. You know I can see everything too.”

Her irritation was clear, but her eyes remained glued to the monitor. Despite herself, she couldn’t suppress a reflexive gulp as the footage displayed Ross, his presence magnetic and overwhelming even through the screen.

Asher smirked but wisely said nothing more. The footage from the bugs and cameras they’d installed in Ross’s house was a bizarre mix of mundane interactions and scandalous activities, none of which provided any leads on the case.

Once again, the night ended with no mention of the so-called “basement massacre,” the media’s sensationalized name for the gruesome crime scene they were investigating.

They left the surveillance van in silence. The tension of the fruitless stakeout was palpable, weighing heavily on both detectives.

That night, Gwen returned home and sought solace in her husband’s arms, using intimacy as a means to clear her cluttered mind.

Yet, even after their shared moment, her thoughts drifted back to the case. The unanswered questions plagued her like an itch she couldn’t scratch.

She awoke the next morning to find her phone buzzing with a new message. She squinted at the screen, the sender’s number unrecognized:

“You and your partner better stop, Detective Gwen Monroe. I don’t like being watched. This will be your only warning.”

For a moment, Gwen simply stared at the message, her mind racing. A chill ran down her spine, but it quickly melted into a smirk. She knew exactly who the message was from.

“Oh? Is he getting angry now? Looks like we’re finally making progress,” she murmured to herself, a spark of excitement igniting within her.

When she arrived at the station, Gwen wasted no time sharing the message with Asher. He read it and raised an eyebrow, his lips curling into a lopsided grin.

“That’s a good sign,” he said. “I think we’re getting under his skin now.”

“Exactly,” Gwen replied, her tone resolute. “This means we’re closing in on something. Ross doesn’t strike me as the kind of guy who makes idle threats. He’s hiding something—he has to be.”

That evening, their resolve strengthened, they resumed their surveillance. They followed Ross from his university classes to a local café, then back to his house.

Their microphones and cameras were positioned to catch every sound and movement within his home.

Hours passed with little of note.

The routine was becoming maddeningly familiar: Ross’s charm-laden interactions with his housemates, the inexplicable allure of his nightly escapades, and the frustrating lack of incriminating conversations.

As the clock ticked past midnight, Asher sighed and leaned back in his seat. “Another wasted—”

“Shh!” Gwen hissed, cutting him off as her eyes narrowed at the monitor.

A figure moved in the shadows near Ross’s property, a blur of motion barely caught by one of their external cameras. It was fast—almost unnaturally so—and gone before they could get a good look.

“What the hell was that?” Asher whispered, suddenly alert.