The mansion was shrouded in darkness that night, the only sounds the distant hum of the city outside and Noah’s steady snores echoing through their shared bedroom. He had collapsed into bed hours ago, exhausted from another grueling day of deals and dismissals, his rude indifference extending even to sleep—he didn’t so much as glance at Stiles before turning away, leaving her alone with her thoughts. At 40, Stiles lay there in her tiny satin nightdress, the silky fabric clinging to her massive tits and juicy ass like a lover’s caress, but it offered no comfort. She couldn’t sleep, her mind replaying the evening’s forbidden tease on loop: Derek’s hard cock grinding against her ass, his thick fingers stroking her fat pink pussy, whispering filth that made her soak her thong. “Oh god,” she whispered to herself, clenching her thighs together, her neglected pussy throbbing with need, slickness building as she imagined him claiming her fully. It had been so long since anyone touched her like that—made her feel desired, dirty, alive. Noah’s neglect had left her aching, but Derek… Derek was awakening something primal.