Nothing She Won't Stoop To

Rick's world shatters when his parents drop dead out of nowhere. He's the one stuck sorting the mess—funeral plans, the works. Then the will hits like a sucker punch: Dad had a young side piece, Chrissy, and left her a chunk of the cash. Rick's burning to glue his family back together, shove the pain aside. But fate's a cruel bastard. The doorbell rings, and there's Chrissy herself, all wide-eyed and uninvited. Rage boils in Rick's gut, but he bites it back, lets her slink inside. She drops the bomb: she wants to crash the funeral. The whole family's blacklisted her, but she begs, tears streaking her cheeks. Desperation twists her pretty face. Finally, she lays it out raw—take me, use my body however you want, just let me pay my respects. Rick's stomach turns, disgust churning like bad whiskey. But the offer dangles, tempting. He grabs it, hard and unforgiving. What follows is a brutal tangle of limbs and fury—rough thrusts pinning her down, her gasps mixing with his snarls. He pounds into her slick heat, gripping her hips like vices, slamming deep until sweat slicks their skin and she arches, moaning through the storm. Neither saw this feral release coming, bodies clashing in a haze of grief-fueled lust.