Jack Hammer (18 page)

Let me explain the difference.

A penis is a male reproductive organ—one used for procreation purposes and urination only. It’s the thing that distinguishes a man from a woman. Men have a penis. Women have vaginas. It’s simple biology. 

This man did not have a penis.

No.

He had a cock—a thing of beauty—standing tall with the confidence that any woman who took a ride would be more than thrilled with the results.  He had a cock that throbbed with want and arousal, ready to explode like a fountain of pleasure. The more I stared at it, the more my mouth watered.

He thrust his hips closer, sliding the hard, mushroom-shaped head along my cheek. My face burned with embarrassment as the women around me screamed and threw dollar bills onto the stage. His lower abdominal muscles, the ones forming a perfect V, jerked and flexed as he moved, making my fingers itch to touch them.

His G-string was pulled to the side to release the beast between his legs, but the rest of it stayed in place housing the money that women had stuffed in there for just a touch of him. Every now and again, a twenty would fall from his G-string, landing between his legs.

Twenties.

Who the hell had that kind of money?

I closed my eyes and breathed in deep as I waited to disappear into the nothing. I don’t know what made me agree to a night out with the girls, but while I was enjoying looking at the fine, male specimen in front of me, the strip club I’d been dragged to wasn’t my thing.

My eyes moved up, rolling across his tan abs and chest. I took note of the sexy tattoos that crawled up his sides, before my eyes landed on his pierced nipples.  His neck was thick, and a tiny vein was popping out on the side from his workout.

His jaw muscles were tight, ticking to the beat of the music he danced to, and his teeth were plunged into his bottom lip like he was seconds away from coming all over my face.

Then my eyes met his icy blues and everything faded away. The music and women disappeared, and I saw the exact moment when he recognized me. His expression changed, his face dropping completely as his body stopped all movement.

“Blaine?” His name lit a fire across my tongue, burning my taste buds and leaving an acrid flavor in my mouth.

Shivers of awareness moved through me. It was him. His face was one I’d never forget. It haunted my dreams at night—kept me from dating anyone because he was all I could think about. He was all I’d ever wanted.

His mouth moved, and I read his thick lips as he mouthed my name.

His brows were pulled down—his eyes narrowing at me as he tilted his head and slowly backed away from the front of the stage. And then he was gone, covering his beautiful cock and taking my heart, which he’d stolen when I was seventeen, with him.

26

BLAINE

CHELSEY FORD. CHELSEY
FUCKING
FORD.

I couldn’t believe it was her.

Her big, brown eyes took me in and shock filled her expression. I’d never run off stage before, but everything stopped the moment my eyes landed on hers. For the first time since I started dancing, I felt embarrassed by my job.

I purposely worked far from home so Grandma and Maddie never had to know what I did. I worked away from home so I’d never have to feel the white hot feeling that formed in the pit of my stomach. I didn’t give two fucks what other people thought—that’s what kept me from ever feeling shame—but never in a million years did I expect to see Chelsey there.

Once I was in the back, and I was able to catch my breath again, I fell into a chair and grabbed a towel. I wiped the sweat and the oily shit Fran gave us from my body. Throwing the towel to the side, I pressed the heels of my palms into my eyes sure I was seeing things.

It was definitely her, but what the hell was she doing in New Jersey? Much less on the shitty side of Jersey? I already knew why she was in New York.

Columbia University.

She made it. Not that I ever doubted she would. Unwelcomed pride filled my chest. I didn’t want to be happy for her. I didn’t want to be proud of her, but I was. I knew Chelsey could do whatever she put her heart into. I’d just wished she’d put more of her heart into me.

I also knew Columbia was the only reason Chelsey was in New York. I wasn’t about to kid myself into thinking she’d sought me out. We hadn’t had any contact since I left Georgia, and I knew she’d never come looking for me.

It still didn’t explain what she was doing in a strip club. My Chelsey would never be in a place like the banana. My Chelsey would never have the lust-filled look in her eyes like she’d had before the shock of who I was moved in. Then again, she wasn’t my Chelsey anymore… she never had been.

“You good, Jack?” Tommy, the owner, came around the corner and asked.

His dark hair was slicked back, and his porn mustache looked as if he trimmed it down some. Half the guys in the club, myself included, hated his fucking mustache, but he treated it with pride. Honestly, it only added to his slimy persona.

Concern filled his eyes, and I knew he was more worried about his pockets than he was about whether or not there was anything wrong with me.

The rest of the guys shuffled around the back getting ready for the next set. They basically had the same routines they danced to. Marshall was a fireman every night. Jimmy was a cop. I was the only one in the group who switched it up. I enjoyed being someone other than myself, and I took advantage of it. The boys called me the jack of all trades, and I made it work.

I hadn’t expected to become close with the guys I worked with, but it was hard when we worked so closely together for almost a year. As fucking corny as it sounded, we were kind of like brothers, we looked out for each other here.

Don’t get me wrong, there were still guys I worked with that I didn’t care for. I figured out early on who I could trust and who I couldn’t. The club was a down and dirty place, and some of the men who worked in it were either fucking each other over or fucking each other… literally.

“Yeah, man. I’m good. I think I had too much to drink tonight,” I lied.

If Tommy cared to know his employees he would’ve known I never drank.

“Think you can make it the rest of the night? There’s already a line of ladies out there dying for a private dance from you.”

Looking down at my quickly deflating cock, I sighed and nodded my head. I reached down and stroked it to bring it back to life, and pain moved into my balls making me hiss.

I wasn’t about to let something like seeing Chelsey again stop me from working. I wouldn’t step foot back on the stage as long as she was in the club, but a few fucks and private dances in the back rooms would be enough to pay the bills.

“If you stroke that thing any harder it’ll fall off,” Marshall joked as he moved past me in his fire-red thong.

I ignored him. “I’m okay now,” I answered Tommy.

I spent the next hour hiding in the back rooms. I danced for the women who paid and even fingered one for a quick two hundred dollars. Going to the bathroom to wash my hands afterward, I peeked out and saw Chelsey sitting with her head down at a table full of wild women.

She was with a bachelorette party, and she was the only one in the group not dressed for sex. She looked exactly the same. Same pouty lips. Same doe eyes. Same long, brown hair. Just looking at her sparked a deep ache in my chest that I had to fight off.

I pushed her out of my mind.

I moved from room to room, dancing for each lady, and somehow managing to keep it strictly dancing and no fucking. Something told me I’d never be able to pull it off knowing the girl who ripped my heart out and spit on it was in the same building.

I went into the back room waiting for the next woman, and leaned against the wall running my favorite memories of Chelsey through my mind. If I closed my eyes I could still see her smile. I could hear her sweet laughter. She wrecked me so badly—fucked up my train of thought—shocked my body in a way only she ever could.

The door opened beside me, filling the dimly lit, purple room with a flash of outside light. And then she was there, standing beside me and peering into the empty space.

She took another step into the room, and I let my eyes move over her small frame. I reached down and pushed at my hard cock. It felt wrong to be superficially hard when I knew my body wanted to respond to her naturally.

She was small—shorter than most women—and her hair reached down her back in a cascade of brown silk. I wanted to reach out and touch her hair. I wanted to bring it to my face and smell the sweet scent that was always uniquely hers. But I knew it was wrong to want those things. It was wrong because I was never what she wanted. Just like the women around me almost every day, she’d used me.

Closing my eyes again, I remembered the way her face looked when she was beneath me. The surprised gasp she made when I’d been the first to enter her body. I remembered the way her mouth fell open in ecstasy as I used my body to make her come over and over again. It was such a beautiful moment for me. It hurt knowing it hadn’t been beautiful for her.

Chelsey.

My Chelsey was there with me again.

And then she gasped and turned to face me, and I realized I’d actually spoken her name out loud.

Her large, dark eyes moved over me, and I felt like I was dying inside all over again.

27

CHELSEY

“LYNN, LET’S JUST CALL A CAB.
Please don’t make me leave you here alone in a strange place in Jersey,” I said.

Since the moment I laid eyes on Blaine up on stage shaking his cock for all the girls in the room, I was ready to go. I wanted to leave the club. I wanted far away from Jersey and all things him.

“Just one private dance and I promise we can go,” Lynn said with a drunken grin.

“No.”

I was adamant. I wasn’t trapping myself in a room with a male stripper.

The girls we came with, whose names I’d finally learned, thought it would be funny to stick me in an uncomfortable positon. I wasn’t sure things could get more uncomfortable than the entire night had been.

“Ah come on, chick. Live a little. It’s my bachelorette party, and all you’ve done is mope all night. Just one dance and we leave,” Sherry, the bride-to-be said.

Her veil was hanging on to the back of her head for dear life and the
Bride
sash she wore across her chest had a little bit of everything she’d had to drink on it.

“I’m not doing it.”

“Come on, Chelsey. It’ll be fun. You don’t have to touch him and he won’t touch you,” Lynn assured me.

“He won’t touch me? You promise?” I asked.

“Not unless you want him to,” the guy letting the ladies into the back rooms said with a wink.

I’d almost forgotten he was there. Like the guy manning the front door, he was bald and huge. He wore snake skinned boots and a florescent-green tank top. It was all kinds of wrong.

I wanted to turn around and go home, but I preferred to leave with my best friend. I wasn’t the kind of person to leave her hanging, even if I’d been asking to leave from the moment my eyes landed on Blaine.

I didn’t bother telling Lynn he worked there, and I was never more thankful she hadn’t noticed him. Thank God for florescent lights, fog machines, and her lightweight tendencies. I spent most of the night praying he wouldn’t return to the stage. I doubted I’d be that lucky again.

The last thing I needed was her causing a drunken scene. She knew how badly he hurt me, and she was drinking. Lynn always got bold and loud when she was drinking. I just wanted to go home and forget I’d even gone to the place. Better yet, I just wanted to go home and forget Blaine Wesley even existed. 

“Fine. Let’s just get this over with,” I said, moving past the man and down a long, dark hallway lined with black doors.

“Have fun!” The girls giggled behind me.

“Yeah, do something I would do!” Lynn laughed.

One song.

That’s how long I’d sit there. And I’d keep my eyes closed the entire time. Whatever it took to get my ass back to New York City and back in my apartment where I didn’t have to think about anything but my assignments and grades. I’d learned a year ago that thinking about anything but those two things was bad for me.

Finding a door that didn’t say occupied took a while. I’d even opened a few to find women sitting in chairs with dancers all over them. That was embarrassing. I ended up standing in front of the last door on the right. There was no sign, so I gathered my nerves and turned the handle. The door squeaked as I opened it, revealing a room lit with purple lights.

A lone leather couch centered the room, and there were no windows. I stepped into the space—my eyes adjusting to the colored light—and I softly shut the door behind me. At first the room appeared to be empty, but then I felt someone standing at my side, and I knew there was a male dancer there.

“Chelsey.” My named move through the room in a whispered voice.

It was a voice I’d never forget. A voice I replayed on my voicemail until I couldn’t take it anymore. I finally threw my phone against a wall shattering it into hundreds of pieces. That was a year ago, but he sounded the same.

I turned to move toward the door, but he moved to the side blocking it. Anger moved across his expression and I tensed. I was the one who was angry. He had no right to look at me as if I’d kicked his puppy. Especially not when he was the one that kicked me.

Even with those old memories and scars, I had to admit he looked good. Better than good, he looked delicious, which only fueled my ire toward him. A pair of loose-fitting jeans hung from his hips, allowing me a full view of the sexy V muscles holding them up. He stood with his thick arms crossed over his tattooed and pierced chest, his eyes moving from my head to my toes and back up again.

“Never thought I’d see a stiff like you in a place like this.” His deep voice moved over my skin, leaving chills in its wake.

I hated him for the responses he pulled from me.

“That’s funny. It’s not surprising at all to see you in a place like this. Still using your gift from God to get you through life I see,” I said, letting my eyes move to his crotch so he’d catch my meaning.

His eyes narrowed before he chuckled dryly and shook his head.

“Now that I think about it, it makes sense you being here. Paying for penis would be the only way you get any. Dead lays don’t tend to get the shaft. Pun intended.”

My stomach bottomed out. Hurt mixed with broken pride choked me. Clearing my throat, I turned and blinked away the tears threatening to fill my eyes.

The memories of all the times I let him touch me or hold me—the many nights he snuck into my room just to sleep beside me—they burned across my brain.

Lies.

It was all lies, and hearing him talk down to me only solidified how wrong I’d been about him.

“Let me out,” I said calmly.

I didn’t want to break in front of him. I’d die before I let him see me cry, before I showed him even an ounce of emotion other than anger.

“But I haven’t even danced for you yet.” He moved closer, his eyes consuming my face.

He looked at me so deeply I was afraid he could hear my thoughts.

His cologne smelled delicious, and up close his olive skin glowed under the purple fluorescents. I wanted to reach out and touch him. I wanted him to touch me, but wanting and needing were two different things. I didn’t
need
Blaine the way I did when I was younger. And no matter what I had to do or say, I was going to make sure the want I felt for him would go away.

“Geez, Blaine. Stop begging.” I reached into my pocket and pulled out a twenty dollar bill. “Don’t worry about the dance. This should cover it.” I opened my fingers and let the bill drift to the floor.

He looked down at the floor before looking back at me. His eyes flashed with fire before he moved, turning me and pressing me hard against the door that held me in.

His body molded to mine, his hot breath puffed against my cheek. The heat from his body made my stomach tingle, and his unique smell mixed with sweat made me dizzy with want. I was repulsed by myself. I was disgusted that even after everything he put me through, I could still think about his body and the way I used to crave it.

“I don’t want your fucking money, and I certainly don’t need it. As a matter of fact, I can’t think of a moment when I ever needed anything from you.” He leaned closer, taking a deep pull of my scent before he shoved the hair beside my face back. “You were convenient, Chelsey. You were someone to spend my time with until someone better came along.”

His words were like a dagger to my heart. That’s exactly what I thought when he disappeared. I was convenient. I was nothing to him… never had been.

I gasped, sucking in as much oxygen as I could. Then he stepped away from me. His eyes moved over my face once more before he pushed me to the side, opened the door, and left the room. I jerked when the door slammed behind him.

I covered my mouth before a tiny cry of pain escaped me. Tears rushed from my eyes and down my cheeks cooling my burning flesh. The pain was too much. The memories and the look of raw hate in his eyes burned my heart leaving my chest on fire.

Why hadn’t it lessened over the last year?

Why did he still hurt me so bad?

I sat and gathered myself before I left the room. I forced a smile when the girls asked how it was, and then I sat in the corner of the limo in a quiet daze on our way back to New York City.

After I pulled Lynn from the limo and dragged her up the stairs to my apartment, I left her passed out on the couch and went to the bathroom. I needed a hot shower. I wanted to wash away the filth of the night. I needed to cleanse away his hurtful words… words I knew were true.

For a year, I’d contemplated all the reasons why Blaine would leave me. I always came back to the same answer. He used me. He used my heart and my body, and when he was done with me, he disappeared without even a second thought.

I was abandoned. I was left in the most fragile state of my life with no one to lean on. He was fine, and I wasn’t. I never would be again. I died that day. The girl I was when I was with him flittered away, and all that was left was a cold shell.

I went on a mission. I drowned out the world and focused on school in a way I never had before. I quit talking to everyone, and dove head first into each assignment. And every time Blaine would cross my mind, I’d secretly hurt.

I’d do that again. I’d dive deep into school and my future. I’d move him out of my mind like I did before, and if and when he entered my train of thought again, I’d silently cry alone in my apartment and make it through.

**********

THE FOLLOWING MONDAY,
I hugged Lynn goodbye. I stood at the window of the airport and watched a plane take her away from me. I never told her about seeing Blaine. I spent the rest of her visit with a big, fake smile plastered on my face.

Being in New York City alone was hard. I missed Lynn. Part of me even missed my parents, but I knew it was for the best. Lynn had different plans with her life, and after Blaine, my relationship with my parents never returned… not that our relationship had been good beforehand.

I went to my late class that afternoon, but I barely heard a word the professor said. My mind kept wandering back to Blaine.

Always Blaine.

Why couldn’t I stop thinking about him?

For a year I’d asked myself that question, but I could never answer it. I’d never admit to how much I cared about him. Not to myself and definitely not out loud. I had to try harder. I needed to keep myself so busy I couldn’t think of anything. It was the way I survived him the first time, and it would work this time, as well.