Four days later, Noah's fingers trembled around the unmarked USB. Lydia's breath hitched beside him on the couch, her thighs pressing together instinctively. The TV screen flickered to life with a close-up of Stiles's tear-streaked face—mascara smeared as Derek's fingers twisted in her hair. "D-Daddy's property!" Stiles's moan echoed through their silent living room—her cunt glistening in high definition.

Lydia's hand slid under her skirt before she realized it—her fingers finding slick heat as Derek spat on Stiles's gaping asshole onscreen. Noah's choked groan joined the symphony of moans from the TV—his belt buckle clinking as he freed himself. Stiles's scream of "Breed me!" synchronized perfectly with Lydia's first circling touch—her panties shoved aside with violent urgency.