The anger and hatred I felt for Gwenneth was a fire burning in my blood, and Zoey was the only available outlet for its release. Without mercy, I took her hard and rough, as if every brutal thrust of my hips was a counter-punch against my stepsister's vicious schemes.
"Ah! Nngh—!" Zoey moaned, her face buried in the pillow, trying to muffle her increasingly loud and wild cries. Her hands gripped the sheets tightly, her body swaying helplessly to the frantic rhythm I set.
"Gwenneth... You bitch!" I growled between ragged breaths, never ceasing my assault. "You arrogant whore! You think you've won?!"
Our sounds—my furious grunts, Zoey's moans tangled between pain and pleasure, and the relentless slap of skin—echoed in the small room, so loud they almost certainly leaked into the next room.
