Derek’s arms wrapped around Stiles like she weighed nothing, lifting her bridal-style off the kitchen floor. Her naked body was still flushed and trembling, cum still slowly leaking from her well-fucked pussy, trailing down her inner thighs in sticky rivulets. She clung to his broad shoulders, face buried in his neck, breathing him in—sweat, sex, and that warm masculine scent that made her heart stutter.

He bent quickly, scooping up her tiny satin nightdress and his gray sweatpants in one hand, never once letting her feet touch the ground again. “Come on, baby,” he murmured against her temple. “We’re not done yet. Not even close.”