"You're late by three seconds," Ross said, his tone icy as he glanced at the clock. He sat back in his car, relaxed and composed, his eyes flicking over to Mary as she panted, still catching her breath from the mad dash.
"That means you didn't pass the test."
Mary's eyes widened in panic as she approached the car, her heart racing. She had been running, pushing herself to the limit, doing everything she could to arrive on time.
She had been warned—one minute, no more. If she couldn't make it, she would lose everything. She had been so close, so sure she could make it, but now it seemed like she had failed.
The weight of that failure hit her like a ton of bricks.
She took a few shaky steps toward him, her voice desperate.
"Ross, please... give me another chance," she pleaded, her words catching in her throat. "I swear I can do it. I'll show you... I'll do anything for you. Anything you say. Just make me your woman also."
Her eyes shimmered with unshed tears, and for a moment, Ross almost felt a flicker of sympathy. Almost. But his expression remained neutral, unreadable. He had set the rules, and she had missed her window. He wasn't in the habit of making exceptions.
"Please." She looked up at him with a mixture of vulnerability and desperation in her eyes. She wasn't some naive girl—she knew the kind of life Ross led, the kind of power he held, and she wanted in.
She wasn't just attracted to him physically; it was everything he represented. His power, his control, the freedom he seemed to have over every part of his life, and the way his women seemed so completely satisfied and fulfilled.
She wasn't blind—Mary had seen how Ross's other girls had fun, how they smiled and laughed in his presence. It wasn't just about the passionate, earth-shattering nights, the way he made them feel things they couldn't even describe.
It was the moments in between—the shared conversations, the connection they had, the way Ross treated each of them with care and attention.
The genuine happiness that radiated from his group of women was undeniable, and Mary couldn't help but envy it.
She had watched her sister, and the others, closely. It was clear that they weren't just putting on an act, pretending for the sake of keeping up appearances. What they had with Ross was real.
They shared something profound, a bond that went beyond the physical, beyond anything she had ever experienced.
The thought of being part of that, of belonging to him in a way that went deeper than just fleeting pleasure, was something she yearned for.
She wanted to be part of the family, to experience what they shared, to laugh, to talk, to feel wanted and appreciated.
"Please," she whispered again, her voice raw with emotion. "Give me a chance to prove that I can be everything you want. I'm not like the others. I can do it. Just give me that chance."
"Get in," Ross ordered, and Mary's eyes shimmered with joy. She almost cried on the spot, overwhelmed with emotion.
Without hesitation, she jumped into the car, her excitement making her stumble slightly as she nearly bumped her head on the roof.
"Hmmm…" Ross exhaled deeply, starting the car and driving with no particular destination in mind. He was lost in thought, considering how to handle Mary.
She was practically throwing herself at him, but there was no excitement in that. He preferred the challenge of someone he could steal away from another man.
The thrill of the chase, the satisfaction of taking a woman who didn't belong to him, was what he craved.
He relished the sight of men broken, their faces twisted in pain as he claimed their women and bent them to his will.
This would be his future approach to expanding his harem—finding women who weren't already enamored with him. Mary's blatant desire for him lacked that edge, and that, in itself, was distasteful.
Still, he had to consider Natalie's wishes. It wouldn't hurt to let her enjoy the show. And perhaps it might be amusing to see the sisters in action, fulfilling his desires.
He smirked, his plan beginning to form.
"Suck my cock, Mary," he commanded, his voice low.
"W-what?" Mary stammered, blinking in confusion.
"You heard me. I won't repeat myself. I hate doing that."
"Okay," Mary said, a wide grin spreading across her face. This was everything she had hoped for. Her heart raced with excitement as she unbuckled her seatbelt, not caring how fast the car was moving.
Her focus was solely on Ross and what she had long dreamed of.
In a few quick movements, she was face to face with his little brother. His size stunned her, even more impressive up close than it had appeared when she watched him with his other women.
With a gleam of eager determination, she quickly tied her hair up into a messy bun before getting to work.
The sounds of her efforts—licking, kissing, sucking—filled the car as she gave herself fully to the task, her joy evident in every movement.
Ten minutes later...
Pew.
Pew.
Pew.
The sounds echoed in the quiet car, a symphony of satisfaction and perhaps a touch of clumsiness. Mary, tasting the lingering, salty tang of Ross's cum, had made a rather spectacular mess of things.
It was undeniably her first time sucking a man's cock, a fact that hung heavy in the air, a subtle acknowledgment of the raw, unrefined nature of her actions.
She hadn't quite mastered the art of the perfect slurp, the precise movements of a practiced mouth.
Mistakes were evident, splotches of cum clinging to her lips and chin, a testament to the fervor of her experience.
She could almost see Ross's reaction – a mixture of amusement and, she hoped, a certain degree of arousal. The sight of the messy, passionate aftermath, she knew, would only heighten his desire.
"I will learn. I must," Mary murmured, her voice barely audible over the faint hum of the car engine.
She moved with newfound determination, meticulously cleaning up the sticky mess. Her hands were unnecessary; her tongue was the instrument of choice.
She traced the contours of Ross's groin area, licking away the remnants of his ejaculate man juice with a focused intensity.
Each lick, a deliberate caress, a dance of taste and desire. It wasn't just cleaning; it was a ritual, a celebration of the experience, a silent vow to perfect her technique.
She knew this was merely a beginning, a foundation upon which she would build a deeper understanding of the art of oral pleasure.
"You passed the test," Ross said, his tone cool but approving. "Welcome to my world, Mary Kendall."