Yes (requires 4 STAMINA)

The rhythmic thudding of her fists is painful but bearable. You just focus on maintaining your smooching.

"Grt erff me yub... mmmf."

Fen's protests soon melt away. Her punches lose power as distracting smooches invade her mouth. Eventually, she returns them with full enthusiasm. Powerful arms encircle your back as your fingers slip under the tank top & find a nipple to play with. 2 tongues taste each other, 2 mouths suck & slide over & under. The thug gasps in rapture when you nibble on her lips, then thanks you with a hard spank. She shuts her eyes & lets the romance wash over her.

Mistake, bitch.

Your arms were looped over her neck, now you take a hand & pinch her nose. With her mouth clamped shut by yours, Fen is totally smothered. Her eyes scream in realisation & she panics immediately. She tries to resume punching but they're a fraction of full power. She stumbles backward, you hang on for dear life. The thug doesn't have time to push or pry before she hits the mat. Even so, she's hauls herself, & you, back up to her knees. You swallow her scream & watch as her face discolours before you. Veins pop & abs pulse, starved of air & begging for release.

That'll do, she's done for.

When you release her face, Fen takes in a hideous breath. You have plenty of time to hop off her waist & stand up in front of her while she gapes, large muscles straining her clothes. For the coup de grâce, you take her head in your hands, look into her bloodshot eyes for a moment, then drive it down for a facebuster. Somehow, someway, the titanic thug slowly climbs back to her feet after only a few seconds on her belly. Winded, wounded, but still rearing to go.

Advantage, John.