Evil MC's NTR Harem

Chapter 1228: Chapter 1228 Entry

Fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, one flickering like it was on its last legs.

The smell hit hard: overcooked beans from a dented pot, stale coffee grounds, the faint chemical bite of bleach someone had used to scrub the tables earlier.

Canned peaches sat in syrupy bowls as dessert, a rare treat scavenged from a raided supermarket run two weeks back.

The corridors felt cooler after the stuffy mess hall. Emergency lights cast long shadows; a distant generator thrummed like a heartbeat.

She passed a patrol team coming off shift—two guys and a woman, rifles slung, faces streaked with sweat and grime from the outer fence line.

One of them nodded at her, smirking like he’d heard everything already.

She didn’t care.

Ross’s door was ajar when she got there. She pushed it open.

He was on the bed, boots off, cleaning his sidearm with slow, methodical wipes.

Shirtless again—sweat still drying on his chest from whatever chore he’d been doing.

The room smelled like him: gun oil, soap, and the faint musk of earlier sex that hadn’t quite aired out.

He looked up. Eyes locked on hers.

No words at first—just that dark, hungry stare that made her knees weak.

“Miss me?” he asked, voice gravel.

Jenny kicked the door shut. The lock engaged with a solid click.

“Shut up and fuck me,” she said.

He was on her in two strides.

Clothes vanished fast—her shirt yanked over her head, his pants shoved down just enough.

He lifted her like she weighed nothing, slammed her back against the cold concrete wall.

Her legs hooked around his waist automatically.

He didn’t tease, didn’t ease in—just thrust deep in one brutal stroke.

“Ahhhh—*fuck*—”

The sound tore out of her, loud and unfiltered.

He swallowed it with a kiss that was more teeth than lips, then pulled back to watch her face as he set a punishing rhythm.

“Ohhhh… God, yes—harder—”

Her head thunked against the wall with each snap of his hips.

Nails raked down his back; she felt skin give under her fingers.

He growled low in his throat, one hand sliding up to grip her throat—not choking, just holding, possessive.

“Ughhhh—Ross—don’t stop—”

He didn’t. Flipped her around, bent her over the edge of the bunk.

One hand fisted in her hair, arching her back; the other clamped on her hip as he drove in again from behind.

The metal frame creaked dangerously. Her screams echoed off the bare walls, raw and desperate.

She came first—shattering around him, thighs quaking, voice cracking on a broken moan.

He fucked her through it, relentless, until she was whimpering, oversensitive, begging incoherently.

Only then did he let go—burying deep with a guttural groan, pulsing inside her.

They collapsed together onto the narrow mattress, sweat-slick and panting.

His arm draped heavy over her waist.

For a minute, the only sound was their breathing and the faint drip of a leaky pipe somewhere in the wall.

What Jenny still didn’t fully grasp was how far the sound traveled.

The base was a concrete maze—thin walls, shared air ducts, echoes that carried like whispers in a tomb.

Her cries had leaked into hallways, filtered into neighboring rooms, even reached the comms station one level down.

In the armory, two techs paused mid-inventory. One grinned. “Jenny’s at it again. Girl’s got lungs.”

In the generator room, a maintenance guy chuckled to himself and cranked the volume on his headphones.

Back in the mess hall, the lunch crowd had thinned, but the gossip hadn’t. Martinez leaned back, feet up on a chair.

“I give it twenty minutes before someone starts round two. Place is turning into a goddamn brothel.”

Priya shrugged. “Better than dying bored. World’s gone to shit—might as well get off while we can.”

Torres nodded. “Morale’s never been higher. Who knew the zombie apocalypse was the ultimate aphrodisiac?”

It wasn’t just them. Couples paired off in corners, quickies in supply closets, full-on sessions behind closed doors at all hours.

Death waited outside the fences—rotting, relentless, hungry. Inside, people fucked like it was the last thing they’d ever do.

Because it might be.

In Ross’s room, Jenny stirred against his chest. Her voice was hoarse. “Think they heard us?”

He huffed a laugh. “Whole base probably did.”

She smiled, lazy and satisfied. “Good.”

He kissed the top of her head. “Round three after a nap?”

She pressed closer. “You’re on.”

Outside, the perimeter alarms stayed silent—for now.

Inside, the base thrummed with life in all its messy, desperate, defiant forms.

And somewhere down the hall, another door clicked shut. Another moan started up.

Because why the hell not?

***

One week later, Jenny felt like she was floating on some strange, euphoric high she hadn’t known was possible anymore.

The world outside the fences was still rotting—zombies clawing at chain-link, distant gunfire popping like fireworks at dusk—but inside Ross’s room, life had narrowed to something simple and electric: his hands on her, his mouth on her skin, his cock driving into her until she forgot the smell of decay and the constant low hum of fear.

He’d kept his promise. Every single day.

Mornings started with lazy, half-asleep sex—him rolling her onto her stomach, sliding in slow while she was still slick from the night before.

Afternoons were quick and rough when he came back from patrol, still smelling like gun smoke and sweat, bending her over the bunk or pinning her to the wall before he even took his boots off.

Nights were long and filthy: hours of him taking her apart piece by piece—on her back with her legs over his shoulders, riding him until her thighs burned, face-down with his hand around her throat while he growled filthy promises in her ear.

She came so many times some nights that her voice went hoarse and her legs shook for an hour afterward.

She loved it.

Every bruising thrust, every bite mark, every time he made her scream loud enough to rattle the thin walls.

Jenny could not believe how life turned so good for her in just a full well.