Lea's mind whirled. She was torn between disbelief, embarrassment, and an odd surge of curiosity.
She could see every twitch, every gasp, every shudder of her sister, and it both fascinated and terrified her.
Chelsea's determination wasn't just physical—it was mental, emotional.
She refused to let Ross intimidate her, refused to let him win by mere presence.
She fought with every fiber of her being, even while her body trembled uncontrollably.
Ross, meanwhile, remained unnervingly calm. He didn't push her, didn't guide her.
He simply watched with that lazy, confident grin, as if everything happening in the room were exactly as it should be.
And it was.
Because no matter what Chelsea tried, no matter how frantic or desperate, he had the power to make her body respond perfectly.
He could control without moving, dominate without touching, and yet he allowed her to think she had control.
Chelsea's moans grew louder, rawer, almost animalistic.
