Page 42 of Corrupt Idol

She stared at her reflection, eyes glassy, jaw set. On the outside she looked unhappy and a touch pissed. She was, but beneath the surface, she was spiraling. If she was a different kind of person, she may have shot Jesse with one of the guns her father kept in the safe. If she was a different kind of person maybe she would have overcome her nightmarish teenage years and made something of herself—become a guidance counselor and helped others with their trauma and replaced the bad with good. Instead, she was this…

You dropped out of school, can’t keep a job, and bang anyone who catches your eye.

She looked away from her reflection as her eyes stung with tears. Fuck. When her hand brushed against the sink, her mind began to replay their encounter today. Even as she stood there, she could feel the imprint of the tiles against her back and the strength of the man holding her still as he fucked her. She screwed her eyes shut, planted her hands on the counter, and bit back a moan as her pussy spasmed. Self-loathing cascaded through her. She sank to her knees with her hands over her head. She climaxed. Every. Fucking. Time. It was no wonder he didn’t stop. Her mouth said one thing while her body did another. She was fucked up. She wasn’t supposed to respond to him, but she did.

When the urge to vomit had passed, she rose, using the counter to brace herself. She felt sick and had sea legs. She popped vitamins and guzzled water before she emerged from the bathroom. She paused at the foot of the king-sized bed and listened to his heavy breathing. Out like a light, just the way she liked him. Another annoying thing about Jesse—he could sleep anytime, anywhere. He dropped off easily while she spent hours trying to shut off her mind. His lack of conscience probably helped him a lot in that department. Fucker.

There was no way in hell she was going to sleep in that bed with him. Her only choices were the chairs by the window or the discolored carpet. She could only imagine how filthy the floor was. She turned both chairs towards each other so she could prop her legs up and make an awkward nest. It was extremely uncomfortable, but it was only for one night. Tomorrow, she would be home. She repeated that to herself as she shifted restlessly, trying to find a position that didn’t hurt.

She listened to the cars coming and going and pulled back the curtain to look outside. She spotted their massive moving truck on the far side of the parking lot with her Jeep still on the trailer. Although she would never admit it to him, she knew there was no way in hell she could have done this on her own. She resented that he barged in uninvited, but he treated her move as if it was his own and footed the bill for the airline tickets, rental truck, fuel, and now a motel room. Her feelings for him were a complicated mix of begrudging gratitude, fury, resentment, and embarrassment. Her eyes moved to him. He hadn’t bothered to take off his boots. She intended to drive part of the way, but between the size of the truck and trailer and that pit stop fuck, she decided to let him handle it and he had without complaint.

Her mind swung from one thing to the next, keeping her awake when she so desperately needed sleep. She dozed and kept looking at the window, expecting to see the first hint of sunlight through the curtains.

* * *

She woke in mid-lift. “Wha—?”

“You’re a pain in the ass,” Jesse growled as he carried her to the bed.

She struck out and hit something. He cursed and dropped her on the mattress, which wasn’t as soft as it looked. She lost her breath and tried to roll away, but she wasn’t fully awake and ended up in the middle of the bed.

“You hit my fucking ear,” he growled before he launched himself at her.

“Jesse,no!”

Her hands were knocked to the side as he slumped half on top of her, pinning her beneath his bulk. His hairy leg slid over her smooth ones and the fog cleared enough for her to realize that he had removed almost all of his clothes aside from his briefs.

“Jesse—”

“Hush,” he said roughly as he pulled her more securely against him and buried his face on the pillow beside her. “I need sleep.”

“I don’t want to sleep with you!”

“Too bad.”

She slapped his side, but that didn’t get a reaction from him. She stared at the ceiling. It was still dark out. The only source of light came from the bathroom, which he must have used before he noticed she was on the chair.

“Get off me,” she said.

His hand stroked down her side. “Go to sleep.”

“Iwas!”

“We’ll sleep better like this.”

“How many times do I have to tell you, I don’t want you touching me?” she hissed.

“Relax.”

His words were slurred from fatigue. Clearly, he wasn’t in any state to do anything sexual.

“Can you move over? Why are you on me?”

“Like it,” he said and inhaled deep. “You smell like home.”

“What?”

His even breathing told her he’d drifted off to sleep again. Even as she tried to figure a way out of this, her eyelids drooped. His weight had a drugging effect on her. Even as she fought it, her mind shut down and decided that she was safe enough to get some rest.

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