Back in the country, the affair burned hotter than ever, but Derek wasn’t stupid. He couldn’t risk his empire, his spotless reputation, or his family for Stiles’s tight, greedy pussy—no matter how addictive it was. So they kept it hidden: quick fucks in his office after hours, longer sessions in seedy motels on the outskirts of town, where no one knew the CEO’s face. He’d book under fake names, drag her into dingy rooms with stained sheets, and wreck her until she limped out leaking his cum. “This is all you get, whore,” he’d growl while pounding her against a motel wall. “Tight slut holes like yours don’t get the penthouse.” Stiles loved the thrill, the dirtiness—cumming harder knowing it was forbidden. But she craved more, always pushing boundaries, her pink fat pussy throbbing for his thick cock 24/7.