And of course Ross wouldn't be Ross without his impeccable taste in women—and the equally obsessive, almost methodical way he trained them to their absolute limits.
He kept June hidden from Bella and Jenny for an entire month.
No introductions, no shared glances in the corridors, no overlapping schedules in the mess hall.
For thirty unrelenting days, Ross trained her like she was his personal project. No half-measures.
No mercy. He took her through the entire catalog of sexual positions—every variation, every angle, every degree of exposure and submission—and then invented new ones when the book ran dry.
He fucked her until the concept of "enough" ceased to exist.
It started slow the first week—almost gentle, deceptive.
He'd pin her to the mattress missionary-style, legs hooked over his shoulders, fifteen thick inches sliding in inch by torturous inch until she was stuffed full and gasping.
