Over the days, Derek and Stiles grew impossibly closer, their stolen moments turning into a secret rhythm that felt almost like a real relationship. He kept a close eye on the black card he’d given her, checking the statements discreetly during board meetings or late at night. To his quiet delight, she never splurged on anything frivolous—always practical things for the house: more cozy blankets, kitchen gadgets to perfect her cooking, fresh flowers to keep the place feeling alive. It touched him, this sweet, unassuming girl who didn’t chase luxury like so many others. Instead, he was the one showering her with gifts: designer bags that matched her slutty outfits, elegant dresses that hugged her curves, sparkling jewelry—a diamond necklace that dangled between her fat tits, earrings that caught the light when she rode him. “For my good girl,” he’d whisper, fastening them on her before fucking her senseless.