Greg’s blood was still boiling as Linda slammed her front door shut. All week, she’d dressed him down in her office, grinding her heel onto his attitude like it was gum on a sidewalk. But now, in her silent house, the air crackled with a different kind of heat.

“You think you can punish me?” he growled, stepping closer. She didn’t flinch, her eyes dark slits. “I’ll show you a punishment.”

He lunged, crashing his lips against hers. She bit back, not in pain, but in raw hunger. Their clothes vanished in a tempest of fumbles and torn fabric. Her pale tits bounced free, nipples stiff and dark. He didn't bother to look for a bed. He pushed her face-down onto the plush living room rug.

“This is how you take it,” he snarled, spreading her thighs wide. Her wet cunt was already slick, ready for his cock. He didn't waste time. Lining up his thick rod, he shoved his fat, mushroomed head past her slippery slit.

The sound she made—a choked, guttural moan—told him the hatred made it better.

He gripped her hips, ramming into her with hellacious speed. Each snap of his loins drove his meaty shaft deeper into her wet, wanting hole. Her pussy gripped him like a vengeful fist, clenching on every inch. He pumped relentlessly, balls slapping her soaked mound, the room filled with the wet, obscene thump of flesh on flesh.

Greg’s grunts were guttural orders. “Yeah, take it, you fucking bitch.”