A week had flown by in a haze of endless, filthy indulgence since Derek had come home from the hospital. His amnesia held strong, locking him into the delusion that Stiles was his devoted wife, and he fucked her relentlessly—morning, noon, night, in every room of the mansion. Bent over the kitchen counter at dawn, riding him in the shower mid-afternoon, on all fours in the living room while Scott “worked” in his study. Derek was insatiable, his young, muscled body healed enough to pound her without mercy, stretching her fat pink pussy and tight ass over and over, filling her with load after hot load until she leaked constantly. Stiles was a walking mess—sore, satisfied, her body humming with constant arousal, nipples perpetually hard, thighs sticky.