Chapter 1

I stood outside the master bedroom door, my heart pounding so hard I thought it might burst through my ribs. My fingers twisted the hem of my oversized football jersey—the one with Damon's old number on the back that I'd "borrowed" from the closet months ago and never returned.

My boyfriend Ethan had fucked up. Again. The promising young striker had gotten into some stupid bar fight, and now he was facing a three-match ban right before the World Cup. His dream was crumbling, and mine along with it—I'd been planning to watch him play on the world's biggest stage, to finally prove to everyone (to myself) that I had a normal relationship with a normal guy my own age.

But there was only one person who could help him now: my stepfather, Damon Voss.

The legendary former striker. Golden Boot winner. European Champion. The man who would be hosting and commentating this year's World Cup, whose face would be plastered across every screen in every country for the next month.

The man I absolutely should not be thinking about the way I'd been thinking about him for the past two years.

I raised my hand to knock, but then I heard it.

A low, masculine groan that made my stomach flip. Then the unmistakable rhythmic creak of the bed.

"Oh god... Damon... yes, right there—"

Mom's voice. Breathy. Desperate. Needy in a way that made my cheeks burn.

I should have walked away. Any normal person would have walked away. But my hand was already on the doorknob, turning it just enough to create the tiniest crack, my breath shallow and quick.

The sight that met my eyes knocked the air from my lungs.

Damon was completely naked, his body a masterpiece of muscle and power under the low bedroom lights. Sweat glistened on his broad back as he thrust into my mother from behind, one hand gripping her hip hard enough to leave marks, the other tangled in her hair. Every powerful stroke made the bed slam against the wall with a rhythmic thud that matched the pounding of my heart.

Mom was on all fours, her face buried in the pillow, moaning shamelessly as her body rocked with each impact. His muscular ass flexed and tightened with every thrust, driving his thick cock deeper into her.

I couldn't breathe. I couldn't think. Heat pooled between my legs so fast it made me dizzy.

"Fuck, you're so tight tonight," Damon growled, his voice that same commanding tone that used to rally teammates and intimidate opponents. "Take it deeper, baby."

My thighs pressed together instinctively, but it did nothing to stop the ache building there. I knew this was wrong. So fucking wrong. But I couldn't tear my eyes away.

My mind began spinning a fantasy I'd tried so hard to suppress.

What if it was me on that bed instead of Mom?

What if those strong hands were gripping my hips, leaving bruises I'd trace with my fingers later? What if that massive cock was stretching my virgin pussy, making me scream his name? What if Damon was growling those filthy words into my ear while he bred me like I was his to own?

A soft whimper escaped my lips before I could stop it. My hand slipped under my jersey without conscious thought. I wasn't wearing panties—I never did when I knew Damon was home, some secret rebellious thrill I couldn't explain. My fingers found my soaked folds and began circling my swollen clit.

Inside the room, Damon's pace quickened. He pulled Mom's hair harder, forcing her back to arch as he pounded into her with brutal precision.

"You like that? You like getting fucked by your champion husband?" His voice was rough, dominant, dripping with authority.

"Yes—! Oh fuck, Damon— I'm gonna cum!"

Mom's cries grew louder, more desperate, and my own fingers moved faster, matching their rhythm. My legs trembled as I leaned against the doorframe, biting my lip hard enough to taste blood, trying desperately to stay quiet.

The wet sounds of skin slapping against skin, Mom's broken moans, Damon's deep grunts—it all filled my ears, drowning out reason. My fantasy grew wilder. I imagined myself in her place, imagined calling him "Daddy" while he claimed me on their marital bed, imagined him whispering that I was his good girl, his trophy, his prize.

Mom suddenly cried out sharply, her whole body convulsing as she came hard around him.

At the exact same moment, my own orgasm crashed over me like a tidal wave. My knees buckled. A helpless, high-pitched whimper tore from my throat as my pussy clenched around my fingers, juices dripping down my inner thighs and soaking into my jersey.

My eyes fluttered open through the haze of pleasure—

And locked directly with Damon's.

He was staring straight at me through the crack in the door.

Those dark, intense eyes burned into mine with raw, unmistakable hunger. His powerful body was still buried deep inside my mother, but his full attention was on me—on my trembling legs, my flushed cheeks, my hand still buried between my thighs. A slow, dangerous smirk tugged at the corner of his lips as he watched me come undone, watched me ride out the aftershocks of my orgasm.

He didn't look away.

Time seemed to stop. Shame, terror, and a fresh wave of arousal flooded through me all at once, mixing into something toxic and intoxicating.

Damon held my gaze as he gave one final, deliberate thrust into Mom, then slowly pulled out. His thick cock glistened with her juices, still half-hard, and I couldn't stop staring at it—at him—even as my brain screamed at me to run.

I stumbled backward, heart hammering, and fled down the hallway to my room. I barely made it inside before my legs gave out completely. I collapsed against the door, sliding down to the floor, my whole body shaking.

But I knew it was too late.

He had seen me.