Jersey Six(41)

“Jersey …” Ian protested in a pathetically weak voice.

“Coop …” She pulled him free from his boxer briefs.

Ian was fully aroused for someone claiming he wasn’t going to let her do that to him.

“Just shut up.” Her tongue teased him. “And close your eyes. I can’t do this with you looking at me.”

He seethed, maybe from the feel of her warm mouth on him, maybe from actual back pain. She didn’t care. Pain wasn’t worth an apology.

Ian closed his eyes and caressed her hair as she did her best to do something she detested beyond words. It wasn’t the dick that made her want to vomit, it was his gentle touch, the way he petted her like a good animal.

“That’s it, Jersey. You’re such a sweet girl to make me feel good. I’m going to make you feel good too.” Her past could never be silenced.

Without stopping her motions, she grabbed his wrists and pinned them to his chest, gripping them tightly so he kept them out of her hair. She wasn’t a pet. She didn’t need stroking and praise.

“Jersey …” Ian’s voice cracked like it pained him, but as his pelvis made tiny thrusts toward her, she knew he was just a guy sitting by his family in church thinking about the secretary blowing him in his office the next day.

She hated that Chris was right.

Ian Cooper was just a guy. And his weakness would become her greatest strength. A few minutes later, his abs constricted. He moaned as he tried to sit up, as he tried to pull away from her. Jersey pushed him back and took everything he gave her.

Keeping his eyes closed, lips parted, hands relaxed on his chest, Ian whispered, “Why?”

Jersey grabbed the half-empty bottle of water on the floor and poured the rest down her throat before climbing off the sofa. “Now we’re even.” She exited the room before he opened his eyes.

Jersey shouldered her way past Nick and Max without making eye contact.

“Jers?” Chris passed her, wearing a concerned expression while trying to grab her arm to stop her. She jerked away and stumbled into the single-stalled ladies’ room, falling to her knees and vomiting in the toilet. When men raped women by thrusting their dicks into women’s mouths and spewing their disgusting bodily fluids down their victim’s throats, vomiting was the only way to numb the pain, silence the guilt, and regain some sense of control.

Ian didn’t rape Jersey, but he didn’t stop her either. She needed to remember that beneath that appealing exterior and seductive voice lived a man.

A simple, predictable, self-serving, dick of a man.

“Jers …” Chris’s voice sounded behind her.

“Get out!” She wiped her mouth.





CHAPTER FIFTEEN





“Will you consent to STD testing?” Max casually asked while looking over the breakfast menu in their shared Madison, Wisconsin hotel room two days later.

Jersey hadn’t seen Ian since their encounter in Chicago. Nick kept him behind for extra acupuncture treatments and physical therapy while Max drove Jersey to Madison.

“It was a blowjob. What could I have possibly given him?”

Max’s cow eyes peeked over the menu at Jersey. “Too much information. And that’s not why I’m asking you.”

“Shit.” Jersey sighed, flipping through a Madison travel guide. “It’s him. You’re worried that he gave me something, and you don’t want it in the media.”

“Listen …” Max laid the menu on her lap and wrinkled her nose. “I don’t need the details of your relationship with Ian, however crazy it might be. He asked me to get you tested. Also, we need to find your social security number and birth certificate to get you a passport. Same with Chris Ten.” She rolled her eyes.

“Well, good luck with all of that.” Jersey tossed the travel guide onto the desk and swiveled side to side in the chair. “I ran away at fifteen. I have no idea where my social security card and birth certificate might be. And just a heads-up … if you happen to scrounge mine, which might not be impossible since I know my legal name, birthdate, and place of birth, the chances of you finding Chris’s are probably less than zero. I mean … if you did, you’d be solving a huge mystery about his past that’s stumped detectives for months.”

“What if you both stay here while Ian finishes his tour? Then we don’t have to figure out the passport issue. I’m sure Ian will find something to keep you both busy and employed.”

Jersey didn’t have much to offer. How could she argue with Max when she and Chris were completely reliant on Ian and his willingness to employ them? “How long will he be gone?”

“Three months. Twenty shows from Portugal to Belgium.”

“Three months?” Jersey cringed.

“Yes. Can you two lovebirds stay apart that long?”

“Lovebirds? I hardly think dry humping on the plane and a quick blowjob in Chicago makes us lovebirds.”

Max ran her hands through her hair, tugging on it while pinching her eyes shut. “I don’t need that kind of detailed information, Jersey.”

“I’m just saying … don’t label us like that. But to answer your question, no … I don’t want to stay here, even if Chris stays here. Ian promised to show me the world.”