The next morning, Stiles was lounging in the living room, scrolling aimlessly on her phone in a silk robe that clung to her curves. Underneath, she wore nothing—just the way she liked to tease fate. Her fiancé had already left for work, muttering something about a broken shower before heading out in his neatly pressed suit.

“He’ll send a handyman,” Scott had told her, straightening his tie. “Take care of it. Don’t wear anything inappropriate when he comes.”

Stiles had only smiled innocently, nodding. But now, her robe was half open, the curve of her breasts spilling out, her thighs bare and smooth. She always dressed slutty—it was who she was.

The doorbell rang.

She got up, tying the robe loosely but not bothering to close it fully. Her plump lips curled in a faint smirk as she opened the door—

And froze.

Her heart stopped.

Standing there, tool bag slung over one shoulder, was Derek. Her Derek. Her ex-lover.

He froze too, eyes widening as he took her in—the white skin glowing in morning light, the robe slipping dangerously low, her hair loose around her shoulders. For a split second, his eyes softened, stunned at the sight of her. But then his face hardened, jaw clenching, gaze sharp and cold.

“I’m the handyman,” he said flatly, voice rough with restrained anger.

Stiles’s knees went weak. Heat pooled instantly between her thighs. Just the sound of his voice after so long had her dripping.

She swallowed, forcing a shaky smile. “D-Derek…”

“Don’t,” he cut her off sharply, stepping inside without waiting for permission. His presence filled the space, tall, broad, smelling like sweat and metal. He set his tools down with a loud thud. “Where’s the problem?”

Stiles’s throat went dry. “The shower… upstairs…”

He looked at her, eyes scanning her robe, lingering on the faint outline of her nipples pressing through the silk. Then, his lips curved in a cruel smirk.

“Shower, huh?” His tone dripped with mockery. “Probably can’t masturbate without it, can you?”

Stiles gasped, her cheeks flaming. “Derek!” she whispered harshly, clutching the robe tighter.

He only chuckled darkly, brushing past her. “Lead the way, slut.”

Her pussy clenched at the word. She turned, walking ahead, acutely aware that her robe barely covered her ass. Each step made the hem flutter, flashing glimpses of her bare skin. She could feel his eyes on her, heavy and possessive, burning holes into her ass the way he used to.

By the time they reached the bathroom, her legs were trembling.

“This one,” she said softly, pointing to the shower.

Derek crouched down immediately, opening his bag. The sight of him on his knees should’ve felt ordinary. But Stiles’s robe shifted, parting wider, and when she adjusted it nervously, the fabric rode up.

Derek’s head tilted. His gaze slid between her thighs.

No panties.

And her pussy—pink, plump, trimmed but unshaven—was right there in front of him.

His breath caught. His eyes darkened. Slowly, his lips twisted into a cruel smirk.

“Didn’t know a slut like you kept her pussy hairy,” he drawled, his voice low and mocking.

Stiles’s mouth dropped open. She quickly tugged her robe closed, face burning. “M-my fiancé likes it that way…”

Derek scoffed, shaking his head as he turned back to the pipes. “Figures. Rich people shit.”

Stiles stood there, torn between shame and arousal. She could barely breathe.

Minutes passed, the sound of metal tools clinking against the tiles. Finally, she whispered, voice fragile, “Why… why are you like this, Derek? We meet after so long and… you didn’t even ask me how I’m doing…”

He didn’t look up. “Why should I?” His tone was sharp, cruel. “You’re the one who broke up with me.”

Her chest tightened painfully. “You know it wasn’t me… it was my family—”

“I don’t care,” he cut her off, his voice laced with bitterness. “You still left.”

Stiles bit her lip, tears threatening. She wanted to reach out, wanted to tell him how much she missed him, how many nights she cried into her pillow thinking of him. But the words stuck in her throat.

Derek shoved the wrench into place, his muscles flexing under his shirt as he worked. The bathroom filled with the sound of water running again. Fixed.

But the air between them was heavier than ever.

And Stiles, standing there in her half-open robe, pussy dripping, realized this was only the beginning.