The next morning, I woke up late and exhausted. My limbs felt like lead, and my mind was still replaying the explicit highlight reel of last night like a movie I couldn't pause. I was still tangled in my sheets, staring blankly at the ceiling and feeling the lingering heat humming in my veins, when my mom's voice pierced through my bedroom door.
"Vicky! I hope you're packing already. We're hitting the road this morning!"
I groaned and rolled over, glancing at the clock. Tomorrow was my eighteenth birthday, and we were celebrating it at Grand Teton National Park.
My mom had always wanted me to spend my milestone birthday at a campground. Her mother had done the same for her, and she was dead set on passing down the tradition. She took it incredibly seriously.
Despite my exhaustion, a spark of excitement flickered through me. We were heading to one of the most stunning national parks in the country. I had seen pictures of the jagged, snow-capped peaks of the Teton Range rising sharply against the sky, mirrored perfectly in the crystal-clear waters of Jenny Lake.
I dragged myself out of bed and stretched, my stiff muscles pulling tight. Walking over to the window, I pushed the curtains aside—only to spot my stepdad washing his truck in the driveway below.
He was shirtless, his tanned skin gleaming with a slick mix of water and sweat under the morning sun. Seeing him looking so ruggedly hot sent a visceral flash of the way he had ravaged my mom yesterday evening. From up here, he looked almost innocent—just a guy carefully washing his car—a stark contrast to the dominant, primal man I’d secretly watched. I stood there for a long time, hidden behind the curtain, tracking the way his back muscles shifted and rippled with every swipe of his sponge. A bold, reckless idea took root in my mind. I was going to go down there and help him. I just needed to be closer to him.
I padded downstairs in a silk nightgown that was scandalously thin and skimmed just above my mid-thigh. Before stepping out the front door, I deliberately let one of the spaghetti straps slip off my shoulder, exposing my collarbone and the soft, pale swell of my cleavage.
"Good morning, Daddy," I murmured, forcing my voice to stay steady as I stepped right into his line of sight.
He stopped scrubbing the off-road truck and wiped his forehead with the back of his forearm. His broad chest was bare, water droplets clinging to his corded muscles. "Good morning, Princess..."
His voice trailed off as he looked up. His eyes did a slow, sweeping inventory of my body. I caught the dark, sudden flare in his gaze the exact second it snagged on my nipples, which were peaking hard and perfectly visible through the sheer silk. The instant I met his eyes, his jaw clenched tight as he immediately yanked his gaze away. A slow, victorious smirk tugged at the corner of my mouth: I had his attention.
When he spoke again, his voice was noticeably deeper, carrying a rough, gravelly edge. "You're supposed to be packing for the trip."
"I am, but I wanted to help you first. Besides, I don't have that much to pack," I replied smoothly, stepping barefoot onto the wet pavement and letting the morning breeze press the clinging fabric against my curves. "I can rinse while you wash."
"It's fine," he muttered thickly. "Grab the hose. I'm almost done." He abruptly turned his back to me and went back to scrubbing the soapy quarter panel.
I grabbed the hose and started spraying down the tires and the sudsy metal. The water splashed back, dampening my bare legs and the hem of my gown, and I happily let it. I finished rinsing in under two minutes, but I kept messing around with the hose, letting the cool water pool over my bare feet.
"Come over here," he called out, pointing to the front bumper.
As I hurried over, my bare foot found a slick patch of soapy pavement, and my legs flew out from under me. I braced for a hard fall, but a thick, muscular arm snaked around my waist, catching me mid-air. The hose slipped from my grip, instantly spraying a jet of cold water directly onto both of us before hitting the driveway and thrashing around like a wild snake.
Suddenly, we were plastered chest-to-chest, freezing water dripping off our bodies. The air crackled with a thick, undeniable tension. I felt so small, yet perfectly safe, wrapped up in his heavy grip. His arm was locked tightly around my back, pulling me completely flush against his rock-hard, wet chest. My pulse skyrocketed as our eyes locked. I could feel his heavy breathing, his chest rising and falling against mine in a ragged, tell-tale rhythm.
The rest of the world completely vanished, leaving nothing but the searing heat of his skin against mine. His dark eyes drifted from my flushed face down to my chest—where my nipples were practically begging for attention through the soaked, transparent silk—and then slowly back up to my lips.
"Honey! Vicky! Pancakes are ready!" My mom’s voice rang out from the kitchen window, shattering the spell like glass. Eric quickly righted me, his hands lingering just a second too long as he steadied me on my feet.
"You okay?" he asked, his voice a low rumble.
"Yeah, I'm fine," I breathed out, my chest heaving. He quickly turned away to wrangle the rogue hose and rinse the last of the suds. As he moved, my eyes darted downward. There, pressing visibly against the wet, clinging denim of his shorts, was the unmistakable, thick outline of his cock. It was hard proof of exactly how much I affected him. I couldn't bite back my satisfied smile as I turned and headed inside.
Breakfast was fast, and soon we were packed and ready to hit the road. Eric handled the heavy lifting, his biceps flexing effortlessly under a fresh t-shirt as he loaded the trunk. My mom sat behind my dad in the front seat, while I sprawled out comfortably in the back seat.
As we pulled onto the highway, Mom started rambling about office politics and the mountain of paperwork she’d left behind, only to be interrupted by three violent sneezes in a row.
"I don't feel so good," Mom murmured, her voice suddenly sounding dangerously thin. She slumped back against the headrest, her eyes slipping shut.
Eric reached over, pressing the back of his large, warm hand against her flushed neck. "You're burning up," he noted, his thumb brushing her jawline with a gentle, husbandly concern that made my stomach twist with a dark, bitter spike of jealousy. "We can turn around if you want. Your health comes first."
"No," she insisted weakly, forcing a tired smile. "I'm not letting my daughter spend her eighteenth birthday cooped up at home. We're going."
I bit the inside of my cheek hard. I know exactly why you're exhausted, I thought. It's because of how relentlessly he fucked you last night.
The rest of the drive passed in a quiet blur. To let my mother rest, I kept my mouth shut and stared out the window at the passing scenery, though my mind kept drifting back to the heated, hungry way Eric had looked at me in the driveway. Thoughts swirled endlessly in my head. Every now and then, I’d steal a lingering glance at him in the rearview mirror, admiring the sharp cut of his jaw as he focused on the winding road.
We bypassed the crowded tourist campsites and drove deep into the backcountry, where towering evergreens swallowed the sunlight and cast long, cooling shadows. Eric parked the truck at a perfectly secluded spot—perched on high ground with a breathtaking view of the jagged mountains, completely hidden from the rest of the world.
"Mom, come sit over here!" I called out, pointing to a cool, grassy patch heavily shaded by a massive tree near the stream.
Mom could barely keep her balance as she climbed out of the truck. She practically collapsed against the broad tree trunk, her eyes instantly sliding shut. "Help your dad pitch the tents," she mumbled, already half-asleep.
I turned to Eric, my pulse picking up a familiar rhythm as he started hauling canvas and poles from the trunk. Suddenly, he froze, his thick brows knitting together in a frown as he rummaged through the heavy duffel bag.
"Honey, I can't find the second tent. Where did you pack it?" he called out, keeping his voice low.
"They're together... in the blue bag," Mom replied lazily, not even bothering to open her eyes.
"I only see one. The big one."
"Oh... maybe I left it in the hallway," she murmured, her breathing already evening out as sleep pulled her under.
A spike of panic—laced with a violent, electric thrill—bloomed in my chest. "Wait, we only have one tent?" I asked, my voice slightly breathless as I looked back and forth between them.
"It's not the end of the world. It's an oversized tent, plenty of room for three," Mom waved a hand dismissively from her spot in the shade.
"What about the sleeping pad?" Eric asked. His voice dropped a full octave as he nudged the single, rolled-up mattress on the ground with the toe of his boot. "There's also only one mattress in here."
"Did I forget the twin pad, too? Oh well," Mom sighed casually, utterly oblivious to the massive fire she was casually lighting. "Vicky can just squeeze in with us."
One tent. One mattress. All the oxygen instantly vanished from my lungs.
I risked a glance up, only to find Eric’s dark, unreadable eyes already locked dead onto mine, burning with a silent, suffocating heat. My heart skipped. It wasn't because the idea was terrible, but because I would be sleeping on the same bed with my hot stepdad.