Chapter 2

I barely slept that night. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Damon's dark, hungry gaze locked onto mine while he was still buried deep inside my mother.

The next evening, the entire city was alive with the World Cup Opening Ceremony. Fireworks lit up the sky, and massive screens across the city broadcast the live event. Damon, as one of the official hosts, was supposed to appear on camera multiple times throughout the night.

My phone buzzed. A text from Damon: "Penthouse suite. Now. Don't wear panties."

My stomach flipped. Mom had left hours ago for an emergency press conference in another city. She wouldn't be back until tomorrow morning.

I took the private elevator up to the luxurious penthouse suite. The door was already unlocked. Inside, the massive floor-to-ceiling windows offered a breathtaking view of the stadium below, where thousands of fans were gathering. The giant LED screens across the city were already broadcasting pre-ceremony coverage.

Damon stood by the terrace doors, still in his tailored suit from earlier interviews. He looked every bit the legendary footballer turned media icon—powerful, commanding, untouchable.

His eyes raked over my body slowly. I wore a simple summer dress, my bare pussy already wet beneath it.

"Good girl," he said, his voice sending shivers down my spine. "You followed instructions."

He walked toward me, each step deliberate. When he reached me, he didn't touch me. He just circled slowly, like a predator inspecting prey.

"Do you know what you looked like last night?" His breath was hot against my ear. "Fingering that slutty little cunt while watching Daddy fuck your mother?"

My cheeks burned. "I'm sorry, I—"

"Don't apologize." He grabbed my chin, forcing me to meet his eyes. "You wanted to be in her place. Admit it."

"Yes," I whispered.

"Yes what?"

"Yes, Daddy. I wanted you to fuck me instead."

A dangerous smile curved his lips. "That's my good little whore. Now strip. Everything except this."

He handed me his old national team jersey—the iconic number 9 that had made him a legend. The same one I'd been wearing last night when I touched myself.

My hands trembled as I pulled off my dress, letting it pool at my feet. The jersey was huge on me, hanging just barely past my ass, leaving my pussy completely exposed.

"On the terrace," he ordered. "Hands on the railing."

I walked outside. The cool night air hit my bare skin immediately. Below us, the stadium was a sea of lights and noise. The giant screens showed highlights of past World Cups, and I could see Damon's younger self scoring the winning goal in a championship match.

I gripped the glass railing, my legs shaking. Anyone with binoculars or a telephoto lens could potentially see us up here.

Damon came up behind me, still fully dressed. His hand slid under the jersey, roughly palming my ass.

"Spread your legs wider."

I obeyed. His fingers trailed down, finding my soaked pussy lips.

"Fuck, you're dripping already." He pushed two thick fingers inside me without warning, making me gasp. "This greedy little cunt has been waiting for Daddy's cock, hasn't it?"

"Yes—yes, Daddy, please—"

He pumped his fingers slowly, torturously. "Please what? Use your words like a good slut."

"Please fuck me, Daddy. I need your cock so bad—"

His fingers pulled out abruptly. I heard his belt buckle, then the sound of his zipper. His thick, heavy cock pressed against my ass, hot and impossibly hard.

"You know what your boyfriend Ethan is doing right now?" Damon's voice was cruel, taunting. "He's probably in some hotel room, jerking off and feeling sorry for himself. Meanwhile, his girlfriend is about to get her virgin pussy destroyed by a real man."

He rubbed his cock head between my folds, coating himself in my wetness but not entering.

"Tell me who owns this cunt now."

"You do, Daddy. Only you."

"That's right." He gripped my hips brutally. "And when I'm done breeding you, you'll forget that little boy ever existed."

He thrust forward suddenly, burying several thick inches inside me in one brutal stroke.

I screamed. The stretch was overwhelming, burning, perfect. My pussy clenched around him instinctively, trying to accommodate his massive size.

"Fuck—so goddamn tight—" Damon groaned, holding still to let me adjust. "This is what a real cock feels like, baby. Not that pathetic boy's dick. Mine."

He pulled back slowly, then slammed in deeper. I could feel every thick vein, every ridge of his shaft as he stretched me impossibly wide. Tears streamed down my face from the intensity.

"Good girl, take it. Take Daddy's big cock like the desperate little whore you are."