Jackson’s snores filled the room like a distant rumble, oblivious to the electric tension crackling between his best friend and his girlfriend. The fireplace cast dancing shadows over Stiles’s trembling form, still draped across Derek’s lap, her ass glowing red from the spanking, dress hiked up around her waist. Derek’s breath came in heavy pants, his massive erection straining against his jeans beneath her. He couldn’t stop staring at her—those fat, round cheeks marked with his handprints, her thick thighs parted just enough to show the slick gleam of her hairless pink pussy, dripping wet despite the tears glistening in her wide eyes.

Gently, so gently it contrasted with the raw hunger in his gaze, Derek leaned down. His warm breath ghosted over her stinging skin as he blew softly on her ass cheeks, trying to soothe the burn. “Shh, baby… I’m sorry,” he mumbled, voice low and rough, laced with regret and desire. His tattooed hands cupped her plump flesh carefully, thumbs tracing slow circles over the red marks. “Didn’t mean to hurt you like that. You just… fuck, you drive me crazy, Stiles. Always have.”