K. Linde - Take Me for Granted

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.

“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.