A Hot Trip with My Ex's Stepdad

I never thought my darkest secret would unravel in the middle of nowhere, under a flimsy tent, with the last man on earth I should have been near.

My name's Judy Smith, and I'm a sex addict—a shameful truth I had buried deep, until this cursed company trip tore it wide open.

Sebastian Blackwood, 36, wasn't just the CEO of Vance Global. He was also my ex-boyfriend's stepfather.

I still remembered the family dinners three years prior—Sebastian sitting at the head of the table, his presence so heavy and commanding it made the air feel thick. Back then, he had been the untouchable patriarch. At that moment, he had become the man who signed my paychecks.

We found ourselves deep in the forest, scouting a potential site for a luxury eco-resort. Alongside us were Sarah and Mark, a couple from marketing who couldn't keep their hands off each other.

A wrong turn had led us astray in the wilderness, far from civilization, with no signal and no hope of rescue until morning.

"Mr. Blackwood, Mark and I... we really need to stay together," Sarah stammered, shivering. "I get claustrophobic in these things alone."

Sebastian had looked at the two tiny tents, then at me.

"Fine," he said, his voice dropping an octave. "Judy, you're with me."

My heart had already been hammering as we set up the second tent, my fingers trembling not just from the cold.

I hadn't brought my meds. Stupid, I knew, but this trip had been slapped together at the last minute, and I didn't think I'd be stranded in a situation like this.

Without those pills, I felt like a ticking time bomb. A brush of skin, a whiff of a man's scent, and my body betrayed me—libido flaring, sometimes even climaxing without warning. It was humiliating.

I had hidden it since I was a teen, thinking I'd outgrow it, but it had only gotten worse. One time, I had nearly moaned out loud in a crowded elevator. After that, I had dragged myself to a doctor, red-faced, and got the meds that kept me sane.

But at that point? I felt screwed.

"Judy, you okay?" Sebastian's deep voice cut through the silence as we squeezed into the tiny tent. He was a big guy, all broad shoulders and rough edges, and the space felt suffocating with him so close.

I could already feel the heat of his presence behind me, my skin prickling with warning signs.

"I'm fine," I lied, scooting to the farthest corner I could manage, biting my lip hard enough to draw blood.

I had squeezed my eyes shut, praying I'd pass out before the last dose of my meds wore off. Six hours since my last pill. I had checked my phone—midnight. It was fading fast.

I had never told a soul about my condition.

How could I?

It was mortifying.

And at that moment, of all people, I found myself stuck with Sebastian. My ex's stepdad, the man who had watched me cry over his stepson's betrayal years ago.

If he knew—if he saw me lose control—it'd be over. My job, my dignity, everything.

"You don't look fine," he pressed, shifting closer.

I could feel the warmth radiating off him, and my body was already reacting, a dangerous heat creeping up my spine.

"Please, Mr. Blackwood, just… stay over there," I muttered, my voice shaky.

But even as I said it, I knew it was useless. The stimulation was spreading, my nerves on fire, and the familiar ache had started to build. I felt like a mess, a disaster waiting to happen, and there was no turning back.

But... at least...

Not there, not with him.

My entire body trembled, a warm rush flooding between my legs as I curled into myself, trying to disappear. I kept my head tucked between my knees, refusing to meet his eyes.

If anyone at the company ever found out about my condition, they'd brand me a freak, a desperate mess. I'd have no choice but to quit. The shame would bury me.

From the other tent nearby, I could hear the faint murmurs and laughter of the couple, completely oblivious to my unraveling.

I dug my nails into my palms, the sharp sting offering a sliver of control. I forced out a weak excuse to Sebastian, my voice barely above a whisper. "Sorry, Mr. Blackwood, I'm not… I'm not trying to be rude. I just don't feel good…"

I didn't expect him to close the distance between us so quickly.

Without a word, he knelt beside me, his large, calloused hand reaching out to press against my forehead.

My breath caught in my throat. I couldn't help but stare at the open collar of his shirt, the glimpse of his strong chest, the shadow of stubble along his jaw.