Carey strode up the gravel path, heels striking like accusations, her silk blouse clinging to every curve. She wasn’t here to beg—she was here to end this. The door swung open before her knuckles met wood. Jake leaned against the frame, all broad shoulders and smug grin. 'Look who’s playing avenging angel. Come to lecture the big bad bully, Carey?'
'Lecture? No. I’m here to tell you to leave my husband alone, you overgrown thug. Your little power trips end today.' Her voice cut sharp, eyes flashing. She stepped inside without invitation, the door clicking shut behind her like a trap.
Jake circled her slowly. 'Feisty. Most wives send flowers. You send threats. Makes a man wonder what else you’re packing under that skirt.'
'Keep wondering. My husband’s twice the man you’ll ever be. Stop harassing him or I’ll make sure everyone knows what a small, pathetic coward you really are.' She jabbed a finger into his chest, but the contact lingered, heat sparking between them.
He caught her wrist, pulling her closer. 'Small? That’s not what your eyes are saying right now. You’re horny, aren’t you? I can smell it—wet and dripping already.' Carey laughed, low and defiant, pressing her body flush against his hardening cock. 'Please. You think you can turn me into your slut? I’ll have you begging before you get anywhere near my pussy.'
Tension snapped. Jake spun her against the wall, mouth crashing over hers in a bruising kiss. Carey bit back, nails raking his shoulders, her ass grinding against the thick length straining his jeans. 'Rough, huh? Bring it. I’m not some meek little wife.' Sweating already, they tore at clothes—her blouse ripped open, his shirt yanked free. Panting, she dropped to her knees, freeing his cock and taking it deep in one slick motion, tongue swirling as she gave him a blowjob that left him groaning. 'Fuck, Carey…'
He hauled her up, bent her over the couch, yanking her panties aside. She was soaked, dripping down her thighs. 'You want this hard, don’t you?' he growled, thrusting into her tight pussy in one powerful stroke. Carey pushed back, riding him with fierce rhythm, ass slapping against his hips. 'Harder, you bastard—show me what you’ve got.' Their bodies slammed together, cum building fast, sweat-slicked skin sliding as the explosive rhythm built toward shattering release.
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