Lily lounged on her bed, phone pressed to her ear, chatting with Alex as the evening light filtered through the curtains. She wore a thin tank top that clung to her perky breasts and a pair of loose shorts that rode up her thighs. At eighteen, she knew how to play the innocent card with her boyfriend, but tonight, her mind wandered to the forbidden thrill that had been building for weeks.

"Yeah, babe, I'm just chilling at home," she said, her voice light and casual. "Mom's out with her friends, so it's quiet here." She shifted, crossing her legs, unaware that Mark, her stepdad, had been watching from the doorway. At forty-two, he was built like a wall—broad shoulders, thick arms from years of manual labor—and his eyes locked on the curve of her ass peeking from her shorts.