Chapter 4: The Sauna and a Steamy Confrontation
The hot water from the shower did nothing to scrub the feeling away. It was etched into her skin—the memory of cold stream water and the specific, lingering ache of deep possession. Lily stood under the spray until her fingers pruned, toweled off with mechanical movements, and avoided her own eyes in the steamed mirror.
The quaint alpine hotel felt like a dollhouse, pretty and insubstantial. She’d booked it for its proximity to the trails, not for the communal wellness area in the basement. But her muscles, tight from the hike and tighter from the aftermath of the stream, craved heat.
The sauna was a small, cedar-paneled cube at the end of a quiet corridor. It was empty, blessedly. She slid onto the highest bench, the wood searing against the backs of her thighs, and wrapped the thin towel around her body. She let the dry, punishing heat press down on her, hoping it could burn out the fingerprints Zayn had left on her psyche.
Sweat beaded along her hairline, trickling down her spine. She closed her eyes. The image that came wasn’t of pine trees, but of amber-brown eyes holding hers from an impossible distance.
The door creaked open.
A new wave of heat, laced with the cool draft from the hallway, washed over her. She didn’t open her eyes, assuming another guest would take the lower bench in silence.
Footsteps. Not moving away, but closer. The bench dipped heavily beside her.
Lily’s eyes snapped open.
He was blond, tousled, with a sharp, handsome face and eyes that were already traveling over her with a familiar, appraising ownership. A white towel was knotted loosely at his hips. The bulge underneath was unmistakable, already half-hard.
“Mind if I join?” he asked, his voice accented, cheerful. His smile didn’t reach his eyes. It was a challenge.
“It’s a public sauna,” she said, her voice quieter than she intended. She pulled her own towel tighter.
“Yeah, it is.” He leaned back, spreading his arms along the cedar wall. He was all relaxed arrogance, taking up space. “Saw you check in earlier. Lily, right? From the register. I’m Felix.”
She just nodded, looking straight ahead at the glowing heater rocks. The air was becoming thicker, harder to breathe.
“You hike to the falls?” he asked conversationally.
“Yes.”
“Beautiful. Wild. Makes you feel things, doesn’t it? Primal things.”
The shift in his tone was subtle but absolute. The casual pretense dropped. She felt his gaze like a physical touch on her damp skin.
“I’m just here to sweat,” she said, a weak defense.
“We’ll sweat,” he agreed, his voice dropping lower.
In one fluid motion, he stood up. His fingers went to the knot at his hip. He didn’t fumble. The towel dropped to the wooden floor. His erection sprang free, fully hard now, thick and curving upward. He was completely unabashed, stroking himself slowly as he looked down at her.
“I knew you’d be in here. Waiting.”
“I wasn’t—”
“On your knees,” he cut her off, the cheerful tone gone, replaced by a flat command.
Her body, traitorously, reacted to the dominance. A flush that had nothing to do with the sauna heat spread through her. She hesitated, her mind screaming a protest her limbs ignored.
“Now.”
She moved. The towel fell away as she slid off the bench, onto the rough cedar planks. The heat was intense at this level, rising from the floor. She knelt, the wood biting into her kneecaps.
“Good girl.” He stepped closer, the head of his cock brushing her lips. It smelled clean, musky. “Open up. Let’s see if you’re as pretty inside as you are out.”
She parted her lips. He didn’t thrust. He fed himself to her slowly, pushing past her lips until the head hit the back of her throat. He let out a heavy sigh. “Yeah. That’s a perfect fucking mouth.”
He started to move, shallow at first, then deeper. He gripped the back of her head, not violently, but with firm control, setting a rhythm. She could only take it, her eyes watering, her throat working around him. Sweat dripped from his stomach onto her face.
After a minute, he pulled out with a wet pop. Saliva trailed from her mouth. “Turn around. Hands on the bench.”
She obeyed, pushing herself up, bracing her hands on the seat she’d just vacated. Her back was to him, exposed. The air felt scorching on her sweat-slick skin.
She heard him spit, a crude, wet sound. Then his fingers were between her legs, probing, testing. He found her wet—a humiliating, undeniable fact. He chuckled. “Already dripping for it. You really were waiting.”
He positioned himself. The broad head pressed against her entrance, a blunt, insistent pressure. He didn’t ask. He pushed.
He entered her in one long, unforgiving stroke. She cried out, her fingers scrabbling against the wood. He was big, stretching her brutally, a filling, burning intrusion that drove the air from her lungs.
“Fuck, you’re tight,” he grunted, his hands clamping onto her hips, thumbs digging into the soft flesh. He held himself deep for a moment, letting her adjust. “But you can take it. I can feel you taking it.”
Then he began to move. This was nothing like Zayn’s deliberate, controlled pace. This was raw, piston-like fucking, a frantic drive for his own release. The sauna amplified every sound: the slap of his skin against hers, their ragged breaths, the groan of the bench under their combined weight.
The heat was suffocating, a third presence in the room. Sweat poured off them, making his grip on her hips slippery. He fucked her like he was trying to conquer something, each thrust jolting her forward.
One hand left her hip. It came down hard on the curve of her ass.
Smack.
The crack was obscenely loud in the small space. A bright, shocking pain bloomed, followed by a deep, radiating heat that mingled with the sauna’s own. She gasped.
“Yeah, you like that,” he panted, hitting her again on the other cheek. “Marks you up. Shows everyone who you belong to right now.”
He leaned over her, his chest slick with sweat pressed against her back. His mouth was at her ear, his breath scorching. “You’re just a pretty little tourist, aren’t you? Come to get a taste of the wild. Well, here it is. My cock. Taking what I want.”
His words were filth, but they coiled in her belly, feeding a shameful, rising heat. His relentless pounding was hitting a spot inside her that made her vision blur. Her own pleasure was a betrayal, rising despite everything.
His hand slid around her hip, fingers finding her clit. He rubbed hard, roughly, in time with his thrusts.
“Come on,” he growled. “Come on my cock, you little slut. Do it.”
The crude command, the overwhelming sensations—the searing heat, the brutal fullness, the sharp pain on her ass, the rough circles on her clit—shattered her. A ragged scream was torn from her as her orgasm ripped through her, violent and consuming, her internal muscles clamping down on him in frantic pulses.
“That’s it,” he snarled, his rhythm becoming erratic, frantic. “Squeeze me. Fuck.”
With a final, brutal drive, he buried himself to the hilt and held. A low, animal groan shuddered out of him. She felt the hot, sudden flood of his release inside her, pulse after pulse, filling her.
He stayed there for a long moment, panting against her neck, his weight heavy on her. Then he pulled out, slick and soft.
She slumped against the bench, utterly spent, sweat and other fluids cooling on her thighs.
She heard him step back. She expected him to leave. Instead, she heard the slick sound of his hand on his own flesh. She turned her head, looking over her shoulder.
He was standing there, watching her, stroking his semi-hard cock. His expression was one of focused possession. “Not done,” he muttered.
A few rough tugs and he was hard again. He stepped close. This time, he didn’t enter her. He took himself in hand, aimed at her back, and stroked fast and tight.
With a sharp gasp, he came again. Thick, white stripes jetted across her shoulder blades, her spine, marking her skin. It was hot, then instantly cooling in the sauna’s air.
He let out a satisfied sigh, wiped his hand on his thigh, and bent to pick up his towel. He didn’t look at her again.
“See you around, Lily,” he said casually, as if they’d shared a coffee. He opened the door, let in a blast of cool air, and was gone.
Lily stayed on her knees, trembling. The heat was suddenly oppressive, cloying. The smell of sex and sweat and cedar was overwhelming. Slowly, she pushed herself up. Her body was a map of fresh violations: the red, stinging handprints on her ass, the sticky trails on her back, the deep, throbbing ache between her legs.
She stumbled to the door, her legs weak, and fled to the shower down the hall. This time, under the cold water she deliberately turned on, she scrubbed until her skin was raw. But as she looked in the mirror afterward, in the privacy of her room, the faint outline of a handprint still bloomed on her pale skin.
She didn’t take any pictures that day. She lay on the crisp hotel sheets, the Alpine sun setting outside her window, and stared at the ceiling. The wild beauty she’d come to find was now inside her, a dark, tangled thing. And it was hungry.