Текст книги "Take Me for Granted"

Автор книги: K. A. Linde

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Take Me for Granted
Take Me – 1
K. A. Linde

Chapter 1: Grant

I didn’t remember the number of women I’d fucked.

Yeah, that might sound cocky or maybe a bit disgusting even, but I’d never given two fucks. I wasn’t about to start now.

Whoever was lying beside me needed to get the fuck out before I could remember her name.

Did I remember her name?

Lany.

Lacy.

Lucy?

No.

Fuck.

I didn’t give a shit. She just needed to leave, so I could get back to sleep.

“Babe,” I grumbled, nudging the chick in the ribs. “Darlin’.”

“Mmm,” she groaned. “I love when you call me darlin’.”

I’d already known she liked it. She had lost her clothes quickly enough to the sound of it last night. Now, I was pretty sure I’d never say it again if it meant that she would get out quicker.

“Time to go home.”

The girl turned on her side and tucked the comforter under her arms, covering her tits. Well, there went her best quality. She gave me a come-and-get-me look and pouted her lips as if that would change my mind. Not likely.

“Oh, come on, Grant,” she whispered throatily.

Her hand slid down my chest and then farther south. Yeah, not happening. I wasn’t interested in another mediocre performance on her part. Maybe a blow job. Then again, probably not. She stroked my cock, and I was reconsidering that blow job. She had to be better at sucking dick then fucking. It was some unwritten rule. Either they sucked, or they fucked.

“No, honey. It’s time for you to go home.” I rolled onto my back and reached for the joint and a lighter on my nightstand.

“That’s not what you were saying last night.”

I flicked the Zippo to life and took a drag on the joint. “That’s what I’m saying now. You knew how this was going to go when you came back with me. So, save me the headache and just leave.”

“Baby…” she whined.

She tried to shimmy closer to me, but I pushed her away.

Man, her voice grates on my nerves. “This was fun. Nothing more.”

“Can’t we have fun again?”

“No. I’d rather have fun with someone else,” I told her point-blank, taking another drag.

Her jaw dropped, and she hopped out of bed. “Whore,” she snapped. She snatched up her clothes and then stormed toward the door.

I waited until it slammed shut behind her before blowing out the smoke.

It wasn’t the first time I’d heard that. I preferred the term manwhore. I’d earned that title, and I was fucking proud of it.

Chapter 2: Aribel

“It’s just not working.”

Four words—and I was completely detached from every single one of them.

It hadn’t been working between Benjamin and me for a while. It wasn’t just because I wasn’t willing to lose my virginity to him. Though, I was sure that had factored into his decision. I just didn’t like him more than my perfect 4.0 GPA, and that was a low blow to his ego. I guessed the fact that I wouldn’t lose my virginity to him was a blow to his ego, too. Oh well…

“Aribel, it’s not you. It’s me.”

Uh-huh.

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

Too late.

Sort of.

Did I finish that chemistry assignment?

I couldn’t remember. I was pretty sure I’d gotten through the last two problems. They’d been the most difficult. Maybe if he hurried this up, I could double-check them.

“I hope we can still be friends,” Benjamin continued.

“That’s okay,” I said, my voice indifferent. My hands were hanging at my side. “I mean, we weren’t really friends before, and we don’t have any classes together. Actually, we have very little in common.”

“Aribel, this is what I’m talking about. You always just spit out the first thing on your mind.”

I was already bored with the situation. I reached up and started fiddling with the top button of my peach cardigan. His eyes flicked to the movement, and his face hardened further.

Oh well.

The day a guy held my interest longer than my chem lab, I’d probably marry him and have the requisite two-and-a-half children, like my parents.

“I just feel like sometimes…I don’t know. Sometimes, I feel kind of like you just don’t care. You get so wrapped up in everything else that—”

“What?” I asked, trying and failing to keep from snapping at him.

“I’m just saying that maybe you should stop and smell the roses.”

“I don’t like roses.” I crinkled my nose.

Benjamin blew out his breath heavily. “Just forget it.”

“Okay.”

When Benjamin left, I walked over to my desk and rechecked the chemistry assignment on my MacBook. Finished. That’s a relief. Now, I wouldn’t have to worry about that.

It was early September, and I was in my sophomore year at Princeton. I was taking my first upper-level class in the chemistry department. I wouldn’t want to fall behind—not that it was likely. But with the homework off my mind, I could reflect on what had occurred.

Benjamin had dumped me. I wasn’t sad exactly, not really. I was more disappointed. He was exactly the kind of guy I was supposed to be with—bright, a junior at Princeton, parents still happily married and part of the high society in Boston my parents frequented. He was driven, motivated, and ambitious…like me. I just didn’t know why it hadn’t worked, why it never worked.

Walking out of my bedroom, I turned toward the kitchen to make myself a pot of tea. Some honey lemon chai would make this all a little better.

“Hey, Aribel. I just saw Benjamin leave,” one of my roommates, Shelby, said with a smile. She was standing by the open refrigerator across the room. Her shoulder-length brown hair was up in a ponytail, and wearing Nike running shorts and an oversize T-shirt, she looked like she had just come from class. “You still making him wait?”

“I guess he’ll have to wait a lifetime,” I responded dryly.

“You should just give it up. It’s really not a big deal. Cheyenne is going to make fun of you for the rest of your life.”

“I don’t care what Cheyenne thinks,” I said stubbornly.

Cheyenne might be one of my closest friends, but the girl was a real nuisance when it came to my love life.

“So, for real, why not Benjamin? Doesn’t he fit the list of things you want in a guy?” Shelby leaned her hip against the refrigerator and waited for my reply.

I looked up into her dark brown eyes. “I don’t have a list.”

Shelby snorted. “Well, if you had a list, wouldn’t he fit?”

I shrugged noncommittally. “Sure.”

“Oh my goodness, she agrees with me without arguing. The world has ended as we know it.”

“You’re hilarious, Shelby. You should be a stand-up comedian,” I said, crossing my arms over my chest.

“You haven’t answered my question. Sidestepping won’t work on me. Why not Benjamin?”

“Because he broke up with me.”

“What?” Shelby all but shrieked. “When? Just now?”

“Yes.”

“Oh God, I’m sorry. I was a jerk, and Benjamin just broke up with you.” Shelby rushed forward and enveloped me in a hug.

She was taller than me by a few inches, and her stooping over me made me feel even more uncomfortable than I already was.

Sympathy—my favorite.

I stood there awkwardly as my roommate tried to console me for something I wasn’t even sad about. Yeah, I was disappointed that it hadn’t worked out, but it wasn’t like I was a blubbering mess. Shelby needed to pull herself together.

“I’m fine, Shelby.” I patted her back.

“You’re not fine, Aribel. You always act like you’re fine, but you’re clearly not. Who is fine after her boyfriend breaks up with her? No one.”

“Really. It’s okay.” Please drop it.

“No. You know what? I’m going to call Cheyenne and Gabi. You’re coming with us tonight to the ContraBand show at The League, and we’re going to find you a rebound.”

I fiercely shook my head from side to side. I didn’t need a rebound. More importantly, I wasn’t interested in rebounding off of someone I hadn’t cared that much about. “No way, Shelby. I am not going to a dumb bar to see a dumb band. That is not my thing.”

“That’s exactly why you should go. And ContraBand isn’t a dumb band,” she scolded. “Even if you don’t like the music, you will appreciate their talent.”

“All I know is that you guys drool all over them,” I said.

“That’s because the whole band is smoking hot.”

I rolled my eyes. That was just what I wanted to do—spend my precious sleeping hours at a party with some crappy college band. “Count me out.”

Shelby narrowed her eyes at me and gave me a look that said, Just try to argue with me.

I’d seen that look before. It was never followed by something I would be happy about.

Chapter 3: Grant

We hopped off the small stage at a local Princeton bar, The Ivy League.

“That was a fucking good set!” Vin yelled. He flexed his bulging biceps and set his black guitar down on a stand.

“You’re telling me,” Miller cried, high-fiving him. The bassist was the brains of the operation. He was tall, clean-cut, and put together with short brown hair and a quiet confidence.

McAvoy flipped his drumstick in his hand and nodded. His shaggy blond hair fell into his eyes, and he swished it to the side. His green eyes were perpetually bloodshot from smoking too much weed. He was tall and lanky with an I-could-not-care-less attitude, but he always managed to mellow us out. “Killer. I need a beer.”

“Me, too,” I said, nodding at my bandmates and sticking a pick into the front pocket of my jeans.

“Beer first and then bitches,” Vin said. He clapped me on the back and made his way toward the stage door that exited to the bar.

As soon as the door opened, the screaming began. I smiled and ran a hand back through my dark brown hair. After the music, this was the best part. I lived and breathed the music, but damn, the chicks I would get from doing what I loved didn’t hurt a damn thing.

I followed the rest of the guys out the door, and I was immediately surrounded by a crowd of girls. I had my pick of the litter at this party. I liked when my biggest decision of the night was blonde or brunette. The Princeton crowd was one of the best. As smart as the chicks were, they would all act dumb and turn to putty in my hands.

Even though none of us had actually gone to Princeton, I considered the League our home base. Miller had hooked us up with a semiregular deal. Now that we all lived in the area, we would play shows every other week or so. We’d moved here from the Point Pleasant area after graduation and stayed. I wasn’t even from Jersey, like the other guys. My parents had relocated from Knoxville when I was ten. That was before shit had hit the fan.

A beer was passed to me almost instantly, and as I took a swig, I slung my arm around the closest girl to me. “What’s your name, darlin’?”

“Kimberly,” she peeped. Her tits bounced in her top as she pressed herself against me.

My mind wandered, and I started thinking about how fast I could get her out of that top and get those tits in my hands. She looked to be a handful, but I wouldn’t mind a little bit more to motorboat tonight. Maybe one of her friends. I scanned the other girls around her. I wasn’t that picky as long as they were hot.

“Well, Kimberly, do you know that girl right there?” I asked, pointing to a girl with a nicer rack.

“My friend, Kristin?”

“Kristin, darlin’, come on over here.” I crooked my finger at her.

Her eyes widened, and she jogged over. It was a beautiful sight.

“Oh my God, you’re Grant McDermott,” Kristin groaned. Her hands went to her chest as she bent her knees and stared up at me with big brown eyes.

“That I am.” I finished off my beer, and another appeared in my hand.

A second later, Miller and McAvoy showed up with a girl carrying a tray full of shots. After tossing back a couple, I decided to cut the small talk and get down to business. Neither girl protested.

Big Tits had her tongue down my throat before I’d even wrangled her and her friend into a corner. I knew the place wasn’t crowded enough to push the other chick to her knees, but the alcohol was kicking in, and I was contemplating it. It wouldn’t be the first time I got a blow job in the League. As if she’d read my mind, the chick started working on my belt buckle, and I just fisted her hair as a thank you. At least I knew how the night was going to go. One who sucks and one who fucks. Perfection.

“Bro!” Vin called.

I broke away from Big Tits long enough to send Vin a fuck-off look as he jogged up to where I was standing. “Kind of busy right now.”

Vin scoffed at me. “You can do better.”

The girls gasped. I took another look at them and wondered why they were acting all offended. Vin was probably right. I could do better, but I’d been heading toward something pretty nice.

Oh well. Later perhaps. I nodded my head at Vin. “Truth.”

“Pig,” Kimberly grumbled, standing swiftly. She grabbed Kristin’s hand, flipped me off, and dragged her away.

I bet they’d still fuck me if I asked.

“Sorry to cockblock, but I totally just drugged some chick,” Vin said, smiling like a total dope while crossing his arms over his chest.

“You just did what?” I furrowed my brow. “What the fuck did you do that for?”

“So, look, I know this chick Cheyenne. She follows us around when we tour, and she brought her fucking hot roommates with her tonight. I picked one out, but she turned me down flat.”

My eyebrows shot up. I loved pussy as much as the next guy, but even I could admit that Vin was a good-looking guy. He had the Italian guido look going for him—tan skin, shaved head, and built like a tank.

“You finally meet a chick who says no, and your response is to slip something into her drink? What the fuck is wrong with you? You don’t drug girls to get them to have sex with you. You move on to the next one. Seriously, Vin, you’re the fucking scum of the earth.”

“Yeah, bro. Are you just figuring this shit out?”

Vin cracked up, laughing at himself, and all I could do was shake my head at my bandmate’s insanity.

“You’re a fucking imbecile, Vin.”

He shrugged like he didn’t fucking care, but this was low, even for him. Although he couldn’t get any girl he wanted like I could, it just seemed unnecessary. Not to mention, adding date rape to his record sounded pretty shitty.

“Just take a look at this chick though, man.”

“All right, show me which piece of ass turned down my man.”

Vin pointed out a small blonde chick standing against a column surrounded by a few other girls, nursing a pint of beer. She looked completely out of place but coherent. I watched as she buttoned and unbuttoned the top of her cardigan. She didn’t seem to be showing any side effects I would assume she’d have if Vin had really drugged her. Actually, she just appeared really uptight and vigilant. She looked like a cork, and I wanted to be the corkscrew—uncap that pressure and help her explode.

“No wonder she turned you down. The girl has a boyfriend,” I told him automatically.

“She could be a closet nymph, and I bring out her inner sex kitten,” Vin said, raising an eyebrow.

“No way. Boyfriend. I’ll find out how serious it is.” I winked at Vin and then started walking over toward the girl.

“Bro!”

I turned back around with my signature smirk already fastened into place. I was ready to go in for the kill.

“You actually going to give her to me, man?” Vin asked, concerned.

“Sure. After I’m done with her.”

I heard Vin cussing me out, but I tuned him out as I was striding toward the blonde. Vin wouldn’t mind sloppy seconds. Plus, no one kept me interested very long anyway.

Chapter 4: Aribel

“Grant McDermott is walking over here,” Cheyenne whispered. “Grant McDermott is walking over here!” She grabbed Shelby’s arm and started bouncing up and down. Her curly red hair flounced all around her. She was tall, confident, and outgoing with a killer body to boot.

Gabi paced a little. Her blonde pixie cut was as unruly as ever. She was generally quiet and had a bit of an up-in-the-clouds personality, but I still loved her. “Oh my God, he’s so gorgeous.”

“I just can’t believe it.” Shelby swished her brown hair over her shoulder. “He looks even better up close.”

“Do I have to be the one to ask?” I messed with the button on my cardigan. “Who is Grant McDermott?”

All three girls turned and stared at me at once. Yeah, I guess I’m that person.

“What planet do you live on?” Cheyenne asked. “I mean, I know Benjamin just broke up with you, but I can’t believe it addled your brain that much.”

“Aw, that’s cute, Cheyenne. You think my brain is addled.” I let my dark blue eyes grow wide as I tried to play the innocent act through my sarcasm.

“Don’t even start with me,” Cheyenne snapped.

“All right. It doesn’t matter,” Shelby said, jumping between Cheyenne and me.

“Didn’t you watch the show, Aribel?” Gabi asked.

“Um…kind of?”

Okay…I hadn’t really been paying attention. I’d had no interest in attending the concert in the first place, so I’d been going over the calculus lecture from yesterday in my head while I sipped on my beer. This just wasn’t me. I preferred quiet places, like libraries, classrooms, and the privacy of my own room. Plus, the beer was disgusting. I’d just been staring at my new pint since that creepy guy had put something in it after I refused to suck his dick—his choice of words, not mine.

“Grant McDermott is the lead singer of ContraBand,” Cheyenne filled me in with an eye roll. “He’s practically the whole reason we show up. I can just see his fingers playing across that guitar and imagine what they would do to my body.”

I held up my hand. “TMI, Cheyenne.”

“And he’s walking over here,” Gabi whispered, unnecessarily pointing him out.

I took a good, long look at Grant McDermott. He swaggered more than walked over to us with his dark-wash jeans hanging low, hugging him perfectly. Tattoos peeked out of his charcoal gray T-shirt, and dog tags hung loose from his neck. He was muscular but lean. His hair was long in the front, but it was shaved short on the sides, and looked purposely messy. His smirk was cocky and his eyes inviting.

His entire appeal from the clothes to his demeanor was contrived. Looking at my friends obsessing over him, I was pretty sure they were too far lost in a Grant McDermott haze to see through the playboy attitude.

Grant walked right through a crowd of women clamoring for his attention and straight toward me. I just stared at him with furrowed brows. He smirked when he saw that he’d caught my attention. I almost looked away, but his attention only infuriated me. I tilted my chin up and held my ground. What the hell did he want?

“Hey, Grant,” Shelby said when he finally stopped in front of us.

He nodded in Shelby’s direction, but his eyes were fixed on me. “What’s your name, darlin’?”

I couldn’t help it. I laughed. “Darlin’? Really?”

He took a swig from his pint, unaffected by my laugh. “I still didn’t get your name, babe.”

“Grant, this is my friend Aribel,” Cheyenne said. “I’m Cheyenne, and this is Shelby and Gabi. Did Vin tell you that I know him?”

Grant outright ignored my friends and continued to talk to me as if there hadn’t been an interruption. “So, Aribel, you don’t like darlin’?”

“I might like it if you happened to be from a fifties Western movie,” I said.

Grant cracked a smile. “Not a Western, darlin’. Try Southern gentleman. Rhett Butler.”

“Are you going to try to peddle Gone with the Wind to me?”

Shelby bumped me. “Um…Aribel, now might be the time to not.”

I ignored her. “No, really,” I said, “have you ever read anything longer than a Penthouse magazine?”

Shelby smacked herself on the forehead and turned away.

“There are articles in Penthouse?” Grant asked.

I snorted and turned away. I had standards, and if he thought that calling me darlin’ and talking about Rhett Butler would make me fall all over myself to be another one of his groupies, he was sadly mistaken. I started walking back to the bar. I needed to get rid of this drink and then get out of here. I was over this scene and wanted to get back to my life.

“Hey, where are you going?” Grant asked.

He tailed me as I walked to the bar.

I groaned. “Why are you following me?”

“Mouthy little thing, aren’t you?”

“Okay,” I said, stopping and shaking my head. “Let’s get this straight. I am not your darlin’ or babe or little thing. My name is Aribel, and usually when a girl walks away from you, you should get the hint and leave her alone.”

“I’m not good with hints.”

Grant’s smirk turned into a full-blown smile. The arrogance was still there, but what was underneath made me pause. The smile was genuine, not contrived like his smirk. I’d actually amused him, and he’d reacted in a way that showed me that few people did. His eyes lightened, and the gold ring around his pupil was more prominent. There was an openness, a vulnerability, in his expression as he dropped some of the playboy look that I was sure he didn’t actually want people to see. It kind of took my breath away.

He took the few steps to clear the distance between us, and I retreated, my back pressing into the bar. I placed my beer down and tried to avert my gaze from his face, but it was a struggle with him staring at me so intently.

“So, how about you ditch the hints and just admit that you’re interested in me?” Grant asked matter-of-factly.

I opened my mouth to slap a retort back into his face, but for once in my existence, I had no idea how to respond. Most people weren’t as blunt as I was, and no one came up to bat when I was on the defensive. He was using my own techniques against me, and I was finding it hard to look away from those big brown eyes ringed with gold. I felt like he’d blown my carefully constructed world into tiny pieces.

“Aw, come on, princess. Words failing you?” He dragged his hand gently down my jawline.

I brought two fingers up to his hand and forcefully brushed it aside. “I’m not a princess. My name is Aribel. We’ve covered this. Keep up.”

He leaned forward, and I watched as he put his beer down to the right of my glass. His face was only inches from mine, and I could practically taste the alcohol on his breath. I should have been disgusted, but it kind of smelled good on him.

I had no idea who the person was thinking these traitorous thoughts. I was not attracted to someone like Grant McDermott.

“All right, Aribel it is.” He drawled my name across his tongue, like he was experimenting with the taste of it.

“Are you always this forward with someone you just met?”

“Only women.”

“How flattering,” I muttered sarcastically.

“Isn’t it? I could have picked any girl in the room, but I’m talking to you.”

Grant had said that as if I was supposed to appreciate the fact that he had just openly admitted that he was willing to sleep with any of these other girls, but lucky me, I was the winner for the night.

Um…no, thank you.

“Wow. I get the princess reference now. I feel like a fucking Disney princess who Gaston chose instead of whoring himself out to the rest of the town,” I said, crossing my arms.

There was that goddamn smile again. He needed to cut that out.

“Belle wasn’t a princess,” Grant corrected me.

“Another thing we have in common.”

“I’m going to kiss you now.”

His hands tangled loosely in my blonde hair before I could even get a response out.

His lips were soft and tender, but they had a certain authority to them that I had never experienced. It was like being led through a waltz. We were both dancing, but he had absolute control of the situation. I found myself wanting to kiss him back.

No, I am kissing him back.

And just as I felt my entire body practically quiver with desire, he slowly released me, his lips lingering oh-so invitingly in front of me.

As soon as I opened my dark blue eyes again, my body straightened, and I snapped out of my trance. Oh, he’s good. He’s really, really good. But if he was going to be a total douche bag and then think he could kiss his way out of anything, he had another thing coming.

“So, are we getting out of here then?” Grant asked.

“Yeah,” I said, plastering on a fake smile. I reached for the drinks on the bar and handed him the beer that had been spiked earlier. “Finish our drinks, and then we’ll head out?” I even giggled for added effect.

I raised my glass to cheers, and then I started chugging.