Claiming My Bratty Stepdaughter(3)

The drive to the campsite was silent. We didn’t speak. We barely looked at each other.

I watched the landscape change… the highway narrowed, the trees thickened, the mountains got closer. My body was still sore from the motel room. Every time I shifted in my seat, I felt it. Every time Richard changed lanes, I felt his eyes flick toward me before looking away again.

When we finally pulled up to the lakeside campsite, the sky was already gray. Heavy clouds hung low over the water. Pine trees surrounded everything, tall and dense.

“Storm coming,” Richard said. It was the first thing he’d said to me since dawn.

We got out. The air was cold. Pine needles covered the ground. He popped the trunk and pulled out the tent.

I stood there, watching him.

“Help,” he said.

I moved toward him. He handed me the fabric, and our fingers brushed. I jerked back like I’d been burned.

We laid out the tent in silence. His hands were steady, efficient. He knew what he was doing. I watched the way his muscles moved under his shirt as he stretched the canvas, the way he drove the stakes into the ground with sure, controlled strikes. My body responded to it. I hated that my body responded.

“Come here,” he said, and I did, without thinking. We pulled the tent taut together, our bodies close, hands overlapping. The storm was getting closer. I could feel it in the air… that electric charge, that pressure.

“Almost there,” he said.

We finished as the first drops of rain fell. He grabbed my wrist and pulled me inside the tent just as the sky opened up.

Inside was small. Dark. The sound of rain was deafening on the canvas. I couldn’t see much… just the shape of him, his breathing, the way his chest rose and fell.

“We should’ve waited,” I said.

“For what?”

I didn’t answer.

The rain came harder. Wind pushed against the tent. There was nowhere to go.

Richard sat down on the sleeping bag. I stayed standing.

“Sit,” he said.

I didn’t move.

“Emma.”

I sat. Far enough away that our bodies didn’t touch. The rain was so loud I could barely think.

“You’re mad at me,” he said.

“I’m not.”

“You are.”

“I’m mad at myself,” I said quietly.

He was quiet for a long time. Then he reached out and touched my chin, tilting my face toward his. In the darkness, I could barely see his expression.

“Don’t be,” he said.

“I can’t help it.”

He pulled me closer. Not roughly… deliberately. His hand slid to the back of my neck, and he kissed me. Deep. Slow.

When he pulled back, my eyes were closed.

“Look at me,” he said.

I did.

“I want you,” he said.

I reached for his shirt and pulled it over his head. His skin was warm. His hands found my waist. He kissed me again. His hand gripped my hair. He pulled me closer.

He laid me back on the sleeping bag. Clothes came off in the dark, piece by piece. The rain hammered on the tent. The whole world narrowed to the sound of it and the heat of him.

He stayed close. His hands moved over me, steady and sure. His mouth found my neck, my shoulder. He didn’t rush. The storm outside made the small space feel even tighter.

“I’ve been thinking about this since the motel,” he said against my skin.

The weight of him settled over me. My breath caught. I grabbed his shoulders and held on. He moved slowly at first, then deeper, controlled. The tent shook with the wind. His body covered mine completely.

Soft sounds left me. He didn’t answer with words. He just kept moving, one hand gripping my hip, tilting me. Every movement felt deliberate.

The feeling built differently this time… not sharp, but rolling, gathering with each slow push. I wrapped my legs around him and held on.

“Come for me,” he said into my neck.

I did. My body tightened. He groaned but didn’t slow. He kept going through it, and the second wave hit harder.

“That’s it,” he said. “Again.”

He wasn’t going to stop. He was going to take what he wanted, and I was going to give it to him.

He went still with a low sound, body rigid against mine.

We stayed like that, tangled together, breathing hard. The rain was starting to ease.

Reality was going to crash back. I could feel it waiting just outside the tent.

But for now, he was still with me. His heart was pounding against my chest. His arm was wrapped around my waist. And I was his, completely and absolutely.

He’d won.