Chapter 1

The European summer night was fucking suffocating. I sat in the VIP box at the World Cup semifinal, sweat already dripping down my neck and straight into my cleavage. My white tank top was soaked through, clinging to my tits like a second skin. The thin fabric showed everything — my hard nipples poking out from the heat and something else I didn't want to think about too much. My short skirt wasn't helping either. Every time I shifted, the material rode up my thighs, and I could feel the sticky wetness between my legs.

I'm Emily, 22, and I shouldn't be feeling like this next to my stepdad.

Mark sat right beside me, his big, muscular thigh pressed against mine because the seats were tight. He was 42, built like a fucking beast — broad shoulders, thick arms, and that deep, commanding voice that always made me listen. His polo shirt stretched across his chest, damp with sweat, outlining every ridge of muscle. God, he smelled good. Like man and cologne and heat.

Mom was on my other side, fanning herself with the match program. "Jesus, it's boiling in here," she complained, wiping sweat from her forehead. "After the game we're going straight back to the Airbnb. That private sauna is gonna feel so good. I'm gonna melt if I don't get some cold drinks right now."

She stood up, phone in hand. "I'll grab us some beers and ice. You two behave and watch the game. Be right back."

The second Mom disappeared down the aisle, the air got thicker. The crowd roared as our team pushed forward on the field, but I could barely focus. My heart was hammering. Mark's leg was still touching mine, hot skin against hot skin. I tried to pull away a little, but there wasn't any room.

Then the crowd jumped up again for a big play. I stood too fast and lost my balance. My body tilted straight into Mark. His strong arm came up automatically to steady me, and his forearm brushed right across my left breast. Hard. The rough fabric of his sleeve dragged over my sensitive nipple through my soaked tank top.

A sharp jolt shot straight down to my pussy.

"Easy there," Mark said in that low, deep voice, his hand lingering on my waist for a second longer than necessary. His fingers felt huge and hot against my damp skin.

I mumbled, "Sorry… it's so crowded," and dropped back into my seat, face burning. My nipple was throbbing. I could still feel the exact path his arm had taken across my tit — that firm pressure, the heat of his skin. My pussy clenched involuntarily, and I pressed my thighs together tight, hoping he wouldn't notice.

But he did notice.

Mark didn't move his leg away. Instead, he leaned in a little, his breath warm against my ear. "You okay, Emily? You're burning up."

His voice was calm, controlled, but there was something else underneath it. Something commanding that made my stomach tighten. I nodded quickly, not trusting myself to speak. The crowd cheered again, but all I could feel was the heavy heat between us. Sweat trickled down my back and into the waistband of my skirt. My panties were getting wetter by the second, and it wasn't just from the temperature.

Mark shifted in his seat. His thick thigh rubbed against mine again, slow this time. Deliberate. I bit my lip to stop a small sound from escaping. My tits felt heavy and sensitive, nipples stiff and obvious against the wet fabric. Every breath made them brush against my top.

I glanced sideways at him. His jaw was set, eyes on the field, but I could see the way his hand rested on his own thigh, fingers flexing. Strong fingers. The kind that could easily hold a girl down.

Stop it, Emily. He's your stepdad.

But my body wasn't listening. The accidental touch kept replaying in my head — that solid forearm dragging across my nipple, the brief squeeze of his hand on my waist. I was soaked. If I stood up right now, I was sure there'd be a wet spot on the seat.

The game kept going. Mom still wasn't back. Mark's arm rested along the back of my seat now, not quite touching me, but close enough that I could feel his body heat. Every time the crowd moved, his fingers would brush my bare shoulder. Light. Teasing. Making my skin tingle.

"You're trembling," he said quietly, eyes still forward. "Too hot?"

I swallowed hard. "Yeah… really hot."

He made a low sound in his throat, almost like a chuckle. "Good thing we've got that sauna waiting back at the apartment. Nothing like sweating it all out together. You'll feel a lot better once we get you properly… relaxed."

The way he said "relaxed" sent another pulse straight to my clit. I crossed my legs, pressing my thighs together harder, trying to ease the ache. It only made it worse.

Mark's fingers brushed my shoulder again, this time staying there a moment. His touch was firm. Confident. The kind of touch that said he was used to taking what he wanted.

I stared at the field without seeing anything. My mind was full of the feel of his arm on my tit, the weight of his hand on my waist, and the deep rumble of his voice promising things I shouldn't want.

Mom finally appeared at the end of the aisle, carrying drinks and smiling. I let out a shaky breath, but the heat in my body didn't go away. Mark pulled his hand back slowly, his fingers grazing the back of my neck as he did.

The game was still going, but all I could think about was going home to that private sauna.

With him.