The next morning, Stiles woke up wet. Scott kissed her forehead sweetly before heading off to work, leaving her alone in the quiet house with her aching body. As soon as his car pulled away, she rolled over in bed, grabbed her phone, and opened Derek’s number.

Her thumbs hovered for a second. Then, biting her lip, she snapped a quick picture—her boobs spilling out of her tiny tank top, nipples hard, the fabric stretched to its limit. She sent it with a single caption:

“Thinking about your mouth on me again.”

Her heart hammered. Within seconds, her phone buzzed.

Derek: “Fuck. That’s how you’re starting my morning?”

Another buzz—this time a photo. Derek, sitting on his couch, sweats pulled down, his massive cock in his fist. Thick, veiny, already hard.

Derek: “You made him wake up for you. Stroke him a little?”

Stiles gasped softly, thighs rubbing together. She reached down, tugged her panties aside, and snapped a picture of her bare pussy lips glistening with wetness.

Stiles: “Already soaking, daddy. Wish it was your cock filling me.”

Her phone buzzed again almost instantly. Derek had sent a video. His hand slowly pumping his cock, precum dripping from the tip, his voice low and rough as he muttered: “This is what you’re gonna choke on next time, slut.”

Stiles moaned out loud just watching it. She couldn’t resist—she propped the phone on her pillow, spread her legs wide, and hit record. Her fingers rubbed circles over her clit, hips grinding against her hand, tits bouncing as she whimpered.

“Derek… ohhh Derek… so big… wanna take it all…”

Her pussy gushed as she came, crying out his name. She stopped recording, cheeks flushed, and sent it.

Her phone buzzed almost immediately. Derek: “Fuck. You’re my filthy little whore. Can’t stop touching yourself for me, can you?”

Stiles bit her lip, typing back with shaky fingers: “Can’t stop. Scott was inside me last night, but all I could think of was your cock. I want you so bad it hurts.”

Derek sent another picture—his cock pressed against a soda can for size comparison, looking thicker, meaner than ever.

Derek: “You’re gonna split open on this, baby. Can’t wait to hear you scream while your husband has no idea.”

Her pussy throbbed just reading the words. She snapped one last photo: her fingers spreading her lips wide open, pink and swollen, dripping wet for him.

Stiles: “Come get your pussy whenever you want. It’s yours now.”

Lying back on the bed, her body trembling from the orgasm and the filth of their messages, Stiles knew she was gone. Completely, helplessly Derek’s.

And the next time they were alone, it wouldn’t stop at his mouth.

He was going to fuck her. Raw. Deep. Until she couldn’t walk back to Scott without Derek’s cum leaking out of her.