Chapter 3 Aiden
AIDEN
Camping was not my idea of fun. In all my life, I’d enjoyed camping exactly once.
The year I turned sixteen and shared a tent with a hot football senior, Ryker Jacobs.
He’d given my jaw a workout that night. We’d both wanted to do more but were too terrified of getting caught to go all the way.
We had exchanged several blow jobs and hand jobs that night.
I didn’t expect that to happen this time.
Mom was talking to Jackson, probably telling him to be nice to me on our one-week trip.
The jerk wouldn’t know what nice was. I was already prepared for his grouchiness to take over the moment we left.
I had my phone, laptop, e-reader, and tablet, and I downloaded several movies.
All I needed to do was plug my laptop in to get some charge, and I would be good for the trip.
They’d only ordered me to spend a week camping with him. No one said anything about talking to him. If we weren’t speaking to each other, then we had to get along. It was when he opened his big mouth that he usually said things I couldn’t resist responding to. But in all fairness, who could?
“Remember to check in with me whenever you get the chance,” Mom said when I approached them. “I already have the map outlining your route and where you will be on what day. Just in case.”
“If you’re so worried about this trip, why are you forcing me to go?” I grumbled.
“Now, Aiden, don’t start with me. I’m not worried about anything. Your stepdad’s a capable man. Just do what he says and you’ll be fine.”
“What if he asks me to jump off a cliff?”
Jackson scowled, eyeing my outfit—a breezy ankle-length skirt I’d found in a thrift store, paired with a crop top and sandals because a girl could feel carefree even on a trip she didn’t want.
“Don’t worry,” he said, voice wound tight. “If you do, that skirt will make a great parachute. That’s about the only purpose for it.”
I fanned my fingertips over my bare belly. “What’d you know about fashion, old man? Over ten thousand people on Instagram approved of this outfit. It’s cute.”
“Don’t tell me you need social media to validate you too.”
“Might as well. You’re not doing it.”
“Guys.” Mom sighed. “At least wait until you’re a mile away so I don’t have to hear it. Have a safe trip. And you better fix whatever the hell is bugging you two” —she waved crazily between us— “before you return, or don’t come back at all.”
Mom marched back into the house. The door slammed shut behind her, and I winced. She really seemed to be at the end of her rope where we were concerned. Maybe I could give an inch.
“Lead the way, Senor Grouch-O,” I said.
“You got everything in the RV?”
“Yeah. I put my suitcase in last night just like you said.”
“Good. Let’s hit the road, then.” He stalked off toward the RV, not waiting for me, and called over his shoulder, “I’m guessing you’ll want to stay in the back the whole time. Be my guest.”
That was exactly what I had planned, but now that he had guessed it…
“Actually, I wanna ride up front in your big, new shiny RV, Daddy.”
I skipped after him. He should never have let me know how much it annoyed him when I acted all childish. Now I knew how to rattle him.
“Cut that out.” He scowled. “You’ve never called me that before, so don’t start now before people get the wrong idea. And get in the back. Stay out of sight, and we’ll make it through the week.”
“That’s not what the therapist said. We’re to spend quality time together. Don’t you know what that means?” I walked to the passenger’s side and pulled the door open, but getting up the steps proved a challenge. “Will you at least help me up?”
A hand landed on my ass, and before I could recover from the shock, Jackson boosted me up into the seat. He dropped his hand fast, as though regretting touching me for fear of catching my gayness.
I hated him for acting like this the most. He was right that I’d never called him Daddy. I was already almost a teen when we met, and he’d always been Jackson to me, but we used to get along well whenever he was not on missions, saving the country and whatnot.
He rounded the truck and climbed into the driver’s seat. “Buckle up.”
“Do I have to? The seatbelt’s gonna wrinkle my top.”
“Are you going to question every order I give?”
“Maybe stop barking orders at me.” I yanked the seat belt and snapped it into place. “You’re no longer in the Marines, and I’m not a member of your platoon. I’m your stepson. As much as you don’t want me to be.”
“A six-year-old child knows the first thing to do is put on their seat belt when they get into a vehicle. I don’t have the time to babysit you, Aiden. Grow the fuck up already. You’re not a kid anymore.”
The RV came to life. Jackson backed out of the driveway like an expert.
I stared at his capable hands on the steering wheel.
Tattoos lined his fingers, and on his left hand, he wore not a wedding band but a heavy ring stamped with the Eagle, Globe, and Anchor.
His movements were sure and steady. Nothing at all like the man who’d first returned home, injured and soulless after watching half the men in his platoon die.
Jackson switched on the radio, but instead of tuning into a music station, he flipped to one where they were talking sports. So much for trying to be civil. Sports didn’t interest me in the least.
I popped in my earbuds and curled up in my corner to start my week of ignoring him.
The sky was wide open; a vivid orange sunset stretched across the horizon.
The ground was so dry that only the tall Joshua trees had a chance of surviving.
The air outside had cooled significantly since we first left home but still felt hot and sticky, like pure Mojave desert, so we kept the windows up and the A/C on blast.
Jackson refused to take a break even to eat because he wanted to get to our first stop before nightfall. Instead, he threw the tuna melt sandwiches Mom had prepared at me. My ass was cramped, and my back ached. When a sign for an RV park came into view, my heart soared.
Finally.
But Jackson drove on by.
“What the hell, Jackson?” I cried. “Aren’t we stopping?”
“Not here. I know a place where no one will disturb us.”
“How far away is this place? I can’t feel my ass.”
“An hour.”
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”
“Mind your language. You’re not too old for me to put you over my knees.”
I sucked in a deep breath, my gaze latching on to his big, scarred hands. An image of said hands slapping my bare ass flashed through my mind, and I shook my head as if that would dispel the picture.
Shit, what was I thinking?
I gazed out the window, but my cock wouldn’t let me forget that the image he’d prompted in my mind excited me.
Big deal. It was a fluke. I liked my ass spanked. That was all. It had nothing at all to do with him. I hated him. He was one odious creature I couldn’t wait to get away from.
Which was exactly what I did when, an hour and fifteen minutes later, he stopped in the middle of nowhere.
“Hey, where are you going?” he called when I jumped down from the cab.
“Gonna stretch my legs and work the feeling back into my ass.”
“Don’t go too far. Wouldn’t want you to get lost. Or eaten by coyotes.”
“Oh, I think that’s exactly what you’d want,” I grumbled and set off.
Despite being angry at him for driving for all these hours without giving me a break, I wasn’t stupid enough to walk too far on my own. I kept the RV in sight and walked around, wriggling and slapping my ass.
I shoved my hands into the waistband of my skirt, pulled it down, and squeezed for all the blood to flow back to where it should be.
A sound behind me startled me, and I jerked my head around.
Jackson stood a few feet away from me, opening and closing his mouth like a goldfish.
He stared at my naked ass. Well, not completely naked. I still had my thong on.
His face had turned red. So red the scars on his skin stood out even more. A vein in his forehead throbbed. Feeling mischievous, I kept kneading.
“Ugh, it’s taking so long for all the feeling to come back. My arms are sore from all this rubbing. Can you give me a hand, Daddy? I’d really appreciate it.”
“Have you no decency?” The vein in his forehead throbbed harder, but he kept staring at my ass. What did he find so fascinating? Why did it leave me breathless? “And why’d you put a tattoo on your ass? Who’s going to see it there?”
Oh, the bird tattoo. That was what Jackson found interesting? I pulled up the waistband of my skirt, feeling the disappointment so hard that I couldn’t even fool myself about what it was.
“Not as many as I would’ve liked, but still plenty enough.”
He scowled. “You sleep around too much. How do you think that makes me feel?”
“What?” What did me having sex have to do with him?
“I mean, your mother and I, your parents. No parent wants to know their child fucks just about anyone.”
“But that’s not what you said and I’m not your son,” I teased. “You were talking about you. What are you? Jealous of me being with other men? You can be honest with me, Daddy. I won’t tell.”
“Aiden!” He strode toward me and grabbed me by the shoulders roughly. “Stop making these awful insinuations. It’s sick! I’m your stepfather.”
He released me abruptly and walked away. “You want to make yourself actually useful? Collect some wood for the fire.”
“Wood? There’s a hot plate in the RV.”
“And we’ll use it if we need to, but I’m camping the old-fashioned way. As much as I can with you tagging along.”
“I’m not collecting any damn wood. It’s a fucking desert, and I’m not your errand boy.”
“Don’t bother coming back until you’ve proven to me you can find at least some kindling.”
He had to be kidding, right? No way he was serious.
He stalked off back to the RV. To hell with him. I sat on a rock with my knees drawn up. Where did he expect me to find wood here? He was basically telling me not to return to him, wasn’t he?
Well, let him explain my starved, dehydrated body to our family and friends. It would serve him right if some wild animal ran off with my body.
Half an hour later, my stomach growled. He’d made a fire, and the delicious scent of meat roasting over an open flame wafted toward me. Was he seriously going to eat and not invite me to join him?
Pouting, I scrambled to my feet. Fine. I’d look for a piece of wood and fling it at his head.
I hope it’ll give him a damn concussion.
As I trudged through the fading light, my anger still simmering, I scanned the surrounding desert for any sign of wood. My frustration grew as I realized how vast and barren the landscape truly was. It seemed like an impossible task.
Just as I was about to give up and head back to the campsite, rustling sounded behind me. Startled, I spun around, and my heart skipped a beat. A pair of glowing eyes were fixed on me.
It was a coyote, growling and baring its teeth.