"I'm going to fuck you like you have never been fucked before," she whispered into my ear, her voice a ragged, desperate rasp that bypassed my ears and went straight to my gut. "I'm going to ride you until your cock fucking explodes. I want you to fuck me back with everything you've got... give me everything."

​She tightened her grip on me, her knuckles white, her professional mask finally melting away into raw, carnal hunger. "I like it rough, Druski. Don't you dare be gentle with the Queen."

​I didn't give her another second to breathe. I buried my face in the crook of her neck, kissing the pulsing vein there with a bruising intensity. My hands roamed downward, mapping the smooth, expensive skin of her back before cupping the heavy, firm weight of her ass cheeks. I squeezed them, feeling the toned muscle beneath the surface—the result of years of "athletic" performance.

​With a sudden, powerful surge, I spun her around. I forced her to face the wall, her palms flat against the cold plaster right beneath the massive portrait of Michael. I wanted her looking at the life she had built while I tore it down from behind.

​I spat into my palm, the sound sharp in the quiet room, and then I guided myself to her entrance. With one heavy, unrelenting thrust, I slammed into her slick, burning heat with enough force to make the gold-framed portrait rattle against the wall.

​"Aaagh... fuck! That's it, Druski!" she gasped, her head snapping back, a wild, delirious smile stretching across her face. "That's exactly... how I like it!"

​"Oh yeah? I'm going to make you my little whore tonight, Lana," I growled into her ear, my teeth grazing her lobe. I reached around her, my large hands enveloping her massive, surgically perfected breasts. I gripped them tight, using them as handles to anchor myself as I began to drive into her.

​The rhythm was primal. My hips beat against her ass with the rhythmic thud of a sledgehammer, the sound echoing through the high-ceilinged room. Every time I slammed forward, her body jolted, her gold stilettos clicking against the floor as she fought to keep her balance. The sight of Michael's stoic, painted face looking down at us—seeing another man claim his wife in his own home—sent a jolt of taboo lightning through my system.

​"Is that all you've got, Druski?" she taunted, though her voice was breaking. She looked back at me over her shoulder, her hair a wild mess of dark waves. "Is that... your best?"

​I didn't answer with words. I drew back, my hand connecting with her rear in a sharp, stinging spank that left a reddening print on her pale skin. Then, I shifted gears. I leaned into my stamina , my thrusts becoming faster, deeper, and more violent.

​"Oh yes... oh my god, that's good! That's so fucking good!" she moaned, her voice rising into a high-pitched wail that echoed off the marble floors.

​I reached up and grabbed a handful of her hair, pulling her head back so she was forced to look up at the portrait while I hammered into her from below. I slammed deep, bottoming out with every stroke, her body rocking back into me like a ship in a storm.

​"Look at him, Lana!" I commanded, my voice a low, dominant snarl. "Tell him who owns you tonight!"

I pulled her even tighter against the wall, my pace reaching an impossible, rhythmic blur. The heat surged, and I felt the first massive wave of heat building in my gut. I didn't hold back. I pulled out at the last second, a hot, heavy stream of cum spraying across the curve of her reddened ass cheeks, marking her like a trophy.

​Lana leaned her forehead against the wall, panting, but as she looked back at the mess over her shoulder, her expression wasn't one of satisfaction—it was disappointment.

​"Druski... no," she rasped, her voice thick with unfulfilled hunger. "I don't want it out there. I want you to fill me. I want to feel you deep inside."

​I smirked, the erection still keeping me at a full, pulsing salute. I didn't need a break. I slid back into her pussy, the friction of her slick heat welcoming me back, but she let out a sharp, sudden moan and reached back, pushing against my thighs.

​"Wait," she whispered, her eyes flashing with a new, darker intent. "Actually... take me the other way. I want it rougher. I love it in the ass, Druski. Don't hold back."

​I pulled out, the sound of suction echoing in the room. I didn't hesitate. I guided my cock to her tight, puckered star, and with a slow, agonizingly steady pressure, I pushed inside. The sensation was incredible—a crushing, velvet grip that felt like hot silk wrapping around me. It was a completely different kind of heat, tighter and more demanding than anything I'd felt before.

​Lana let out a muffled scream into her palm, her back arching so hard I thought it might snap. I grabbed her by the back of the neck, my fingers tangling in her hair to steady her, and began to thrust. Each stroke was a battle against her resistance, a deep, heavy invasion that made her whole body shudder.

​I spun her around mid-stroke, forcing her to face me. Our lips clashed in a rough, desperate kiss, the taste of champagne and sweat mingling between us. I hooked my arms under her thighs, hoisting her up and pinning her back against the wall, her legs wrapped tightly around my waist.

​"You're a fucking animal," she hissed between kisses, her nails raking down my back, leaving stinging red trails. "Break me, Druski. Make me forget my own name."

​I shifted my weight, sliding out of her tight rear and plunging back into her soaking pussy in one smooth motion. I began to pound into her with a relentless, mechanical force. Every time my hips slammed against hers, her back hit the wall, and the portrait of Michael rattled above us as if he were trembling in the face of what I was doing to his wife.

​She was a mess of moans and dirty talk, her professional dignity completely incinerated. She was scratching, biting, and begging for more, her veteran experience finally meeting a man who could outlast her every move.

Lana let out a ragged breath, her eyes blown wide and glazed with a level of desire that her 567 scenes could never have faked. She reached up, pulling my hands from her waist.

​"Get down," she commanded, her voice trembling but regaining a sliver of that directorial authority. "Down on the floor, Druski. Right now."

​I didn't argue. I stepped back and lowered myself onto the cold, white marble floor, the contrast of the chilled stone against my heated skin sending a jolt through my spine.

​Lana didn't waste a second. She stood over me for a heartbeat, the light from the city skyline silhouetting her incredible, "queen-sized" curves. She looked like a goddess of sin. Then, she straddled me, her gold stilettos clicking against the marble as she positioned herself.

​"I told you I was going to ride you until you exploded," she whispered, her face inches from mine, her hair falling like a silken curtain around us. "I'm going to take every bit of that energy and make it mine."

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