Take Me for Granted

by K. A. Linde

“You want me to fuck your friend?” he asked with that mischievous glint in his eye.

  “Yes, I want you to ruin your relationship and the band all in one swoop,” I said sarcastically.

  Grant just laughed and then rolled me underneath him. “I believe you’re asking me to fuck you.”

  “I didn’t—”

  “Ask me.”

  “Ask you what?” I played coy.

  “Ask me to fuck you.” He leaned over and nipped at my ear. “Talk dirty to me. Tell me what you want.”

  I squirmed underneath him. There was no way I could do that. I was…not that kind of person. Now, I didn’t mind it when he would talk dirty to me while we were in the middle of our escapades. Actually, it usually really turned me on.

  I tried to force them out, but the words stuck in my mouth from embarrassment.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t hear you,” Grant teased. “Do you want me to eat you out, suck on your clit, finger-fuck your pussy?”

  My whole body flushed at that word. His lips trailed down my throat.

  “Do you want me to spread you wide? Do you want me to slide my cock deep inside you? Tell me what you want, love.”

  My breathing was heavy as he started circling his hips against me. God, even through his jeans, I could feel him getting turned on.

  “I want you,” I whispered.

  “To fuck you.”

  I swallowed hard. “I want you to fuck me, Grant.”

  There was no hesitation on his end. He didn’t even ask me if I was still sore, which I was, but at this point, I just didn’t care. I was pretty sure I’d suffer for this later, but damn, I wanted him.

  Grant grabbed my head, and our lips met with an intensity and ferocity that had been missing in our gentle embrace last night. He kissed me like a starving man with his first morsel of food, like a heroine addict getting his next hit, like a reigning boxing champion clamoring for his next fight. I was his drug of choice, and he was using me to feed his addiction.

  Our lips moved against each other, tongues twisting and massaging. His teeth latched onto my bottom lip and dragged it back toward him.

  I couldn’t get enough. I needed his touch. I needed him pressed against me. I needed us to be connected like this.

  We quickly removed the remainder of our clothing, and Grant slipped on a condom. His hands found the backs of my legs, and he dragged me out flat on the bed. Our bodies were aching for each other.

  He went in easier this time even if it hurt like a bitch. I bit my bottom lip hard and tried to push the pain back. Oh God, nope. It still felt like he was tearing me open. I took a few deep breaths as he filled me all the way.

  He started moving sooner than he had last time, and I found that the more he slid in and out of me, the less I noticed the pain. Actually, all I was starting to notice was the pleasure rushing up my body and spreading to my fingertips, causing me to clench the covers and curl my toes.

  “Fuck, Ari,” Grant groaned, leaning his body over me.

  “Oh my God,” I whispered.

  “I should slow down,” he said reluctantly.

  I shook my head. Yes, he should slow down, but no, I didn’t want him to. I didn’t have to tell him twice about that either. Grant pulled one of my legs up and leaned forward into it. My eyes widened. I hadn’t thought that he would be able to get deeper, but clearly, that was not the case.

  My head tilted back into the pillow. My world was spinning. Pain mixed with pleasure in a way I’d never experienced and had no way of explaining. Grant was moving not too fast but not slow either, and all I could feel was the energy building inside me.

  “Grant,” I moaned.

  My walls tightened all around him, and I couldn’t hold back the release rocking my body. I dug my fingers into the duvet and felt like I was ripping through the material.

  A moment later, Grant gasped and then shuddered as he finished just after me.

  Exhaustion pulled me under, and when I finally woke up again, it was already early afternoon. I’d practically missed the whole day with Grant, and I was starving. But when I woke up, Grant was missing. Where did he go?

  I stretched out my aching muscles and then made the mistake of trying to stand up. Holy fire and brimstone! My body was down for the count. Besides the tenderness between my legs that felt like I’d just run a mile, I was so weak with hunger that it took real effort to keep the dizziness at bay.

  My skinny jeans were somewhere on the floor, and I winced as I pulled them on. This was not going to be fun. After throwing my shirt and cardigan back on, I went looking for Grant. The bathroom was empty, but the shower seemed to beckon me. I would die for a shower and a hamburger right about now, not at the same time. Maybe. I peeked my head out of the room to make sure I wouldn’t get caught in any crossfire this time, and I found the room mostly empty.

  Grant was sitting on the couch with his guitar in his lap. He expertly picked at a few chords and repeated one line over and over again. I recognized it from their song “Letting You.” They liked to close with that song, and it was one of my favorites.

  “I like that one,” I whispered, coming out of the bedroom and taking a seat next to him.

  “Yeah. It’s one of Miller’s best. How did you sleep?”

  “Like a rock. You couldn’t sleep?”

  “Too pumped about the show.”

  He strummed out a melody I hadn’t heard before, and I stretched out as he played it on repeat.

  “You’ll be great.”

  “All I know how to do, Princess.”

  “What’s this song? I haven’t heard it.”

  “Something new.”

  “I didn’t know Miller had written something new for the show.”

  Grant stopped what he was playing and ran his fingers back through my loose hair. I sighed and closed my eyes.

  “I wrote this one,” he finally murmured.

  “Oh,” I said, surprised. I hadn’t known that he wrote music. “Will you play it again?”

  He picked up on the rhythm he had been playing, and I let the music soothe me. Now that I was listening, I could tell that it had a different quality than what Miller usually came up with. It was softer, yes, but it was almost more emotional with more heart.

  “Are you going to sing for me?”

  “Tonight.”

  “You’re singing for the whole lodge tonight.”

  “I’ll only be thinking about you.”

  I giggled and sat up. “I bet you say that to all the girls.”

  “You’re accusing me of charming girls with music?” he asked with his distinctive smirk.

  “Oh no, not you. Certainly not you.”

  I knew that he’d used his music hundreds of times to pick up women, but I wished that this song were just for me and that I really was the only girl he would be singing for. Maybe I was being petty. He was my boyfriend. Just because we were together and had sex didn’t mean that I erased everything that had ever happened before that. And I didn’t need to. We were together, and that was what mattered.

  “You know,” I said, letting the music take me away, “we work well together.”

  “You think?” he asked, amused.

  “Against all logic…yes.”

  “Yeah, you’ve got the world at your feet, and you’re with a guy like me,” he said offhand.

  I knew it affected him.

  And he was right in a way. We had come from two different worlds, had grown up in two shockingly different ways, and had coped with our lifestyles in completely different fashions. My parents were high society, and his father was in jail. It didn’t make sense.

  But it did.

  “Even though we grew up differently, we’ve come out very similar.”

  That did surprise Grant. “What? You’re a boozing manwhore? Did I miss that?”

  I laughed. “No! I just mean that up until you, I’d never let anyone close enough to really get to know who I am. My parents aren’t exactly emotional, and my education w
as my escape.”

  He nodded in understanding. “Before you, there was no one. Just the next high.”

  “Yeah. It’s easier to be emotionless even if that means trying to come off as a carefree playboy.”

  “Hey, that’s not an act!”

  I rolled my eyes. “Sure. But do you get what I mean? I kind of bring you back down to earth, and I think you open up my world a bit.”

  “Just a bit,” he said with a wink. His hand traveled down my thigh.

  I laughed and shook him off. “I’m being serious.”

  We were shockingly different yet perfectly in sync. It was a harmony, a yin and a yang. In that moment, as I lay there listening to him play his music, I felt like things were right where they were supposed to be.

  “That’s why I keep you around.”

  “To be serious?”

  “Someone has to be,” he said, reaching for me again.

  “And here I thought it was for the sex,” I joked.

  “When you put it like that…”

  I shook my head at him, and he captured my lips again.

  “Definitely more than the sex,” he said.

  I liked that answer.

  “We could always go again.”

  “Whoa there!” I held up my hand to stop his advance. “I should go back to my room. I bet my friends are freaking out. Plus, I really need a shower.”

  “I can arrange a shower.”

  He reached for me, but I slipped out of his grasp.

  “I’m not sure I’m capable of showering with you.”

  “Might get tempted?”

  “Might break in half.”

  “I don’t see a problem,” he said, looking at me hungrily.

  “I’ll see you at the show.”

  “Hey, Ari,” Grant called when I reached for the door. “Come early. I want to show you a real backstage.”

  When Ari left, I took a quick shower, threw on some jeans and a dark blue T-shirt, and left for the lodge with my leather jacket and guitar. Our set started in a few hours, but I figured it would be a good idea to get there early and see what was going on. Maybe I could meet a few people. I had no interest in all the talk about labels looking at us, but it still tickled at the back of my mind.

  What would it be like if a label liked us and wanted to sign us on? Would we record an album in L.A., tour with another band, make a living on the road? Would I see Ari?

  I stopped that whole train of thought. It didn’t fucking matter because we weren’t fucking signed. We had no prospects. We were just here for the fucking music, just like McAvoy had said. I loved my guitar, my brothers, the band, everything. I wanted it to fucking stay that way.

  The lodge was teeming with people for the music festival, so I cut around to the side entrance for employees, bands, and staff only. Since there were so many acts, our equipment was still waiting in the back of our van. We would set it up once we got closer to showtime.

  With my guitar slung across my back, I walked through a door backstage. I didn’t recognize anyone, and that didn’t bother me one bit. I’d always been a bit of a floater, meeting people along the way.

  As I’d expected, there were twice as many girls back here as bands. A few were eyeing me suggestively. A few were really fucking hot, like off-the-charts hot. One had tits that were huge and perky and still fucking real. Another girl bent over to whisper to talk someone else, and I could see half her ass in her short skirt. Fuck me. The girls didn’t look like that in Princeton.

  And I had a hot piece of ass all to myself, and she had been in my bed all day. Self-control had never been my strong suit. I could look but not touch or kiss or fuck. Just look. That was possible. With some difficulty, I averted my gaze entirely and kept walking.

  I was about halfway through the backstage area when a guy stopped in front of me. He didn’t look familiar, but I was bad with faces anyway. He was dressed casually in dark jeans and a polo, yet I could tell he had some authority to him.

  “Grant McDermott, right?” the guy asked, pointing his finger at me.

  “Depends who’s asking.”

  “Hollis Tift.”

  We shook hands.

  “I’ve heard a lot about you, Grant.”

  “That so?” His tone made me cautious. Who is this guy?

  “Mostly good things.”

  “Sounds accurate.”

  The guy cracked a smile, and he looked younger than I’d thought he was. “Did you really tell Frank Boseley to go fuck himself?”

  Frank Boseley—well, that was a name I never thought I’d hear again and also one I wasn’t going to soon forget. He was the asshole label scout from BankHead Records who had treated me like a chump.

  “More or less. I think I actually said that he was a fucking piece of shit, and I wasn’t some fucking dick he could jack off with.”

  Hollis laughed and nodded his head. “Yeah, that’s better than when he told the story.”

  “You know the guy?”

  “We have mutual friends.”

  Ah, he was a label scout or at the very least someone in the industry. I should have been ecstatic to talk to this guy. Miller would go nuts if I didn’t follow through with this in some way.

  “Surprised you’re even talking to me after I shot down your friend.”

  “Friend is such a loose term. Frank is more of an acquaintance. And I couldn’t be happier with how things turned out.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “Because I was the one who brought you here. Didn’t Miller tell you?”

  I shrugged. “He didn’t go into specifics.”

  “Well, I didn’t really go into all that many specifics with him. I was waiting to see your show here. I was at the Halloween performance. You sold me when you pulled that girl onstage. Clever. It didn’t even look like you were faking it.”

  I hadn’t been, because I’d pulled Ari onstage. This guy had been there. I was reeling.

  “So, are you a scout?” I asked flat-out.

  “A scout of sorts. I represent a number of artists for Pacific Entertainment.”

  Fucking Pacific Entertainment. They were top-notch. Right up there with some of the best labels from Sony and Universal.

  “Nice gig.”

  “It has its benefits. Do you have a minute? Perhaps I could introduce you to one of my clients?” Hollis offered.

  I glanced around backstage as if someone might snap me out of what was happening and tell me it was all a joke, but no one appeared. Miller, McAvoy, and Vin hadn’t shown up yet. I was here to meet people from the label all on my own.

  “Sure. Why not?”

  Hollis spoke to the people he recognized as we passed them. Some, he even stopped to introduce me. I wasn’t going to remember them for shit, but it was a nice gesture. Some of the bands I knew. I couldn’t remember faces, but music, that was a different story.

  We rounded a corner, and Hollis stopped in front of a black door.

  He knocked twice and then entered. “Hey, guys!”

  “Hollis!” two guys cheered.

  Another one yelled out, “Hey, man!”

  The room smelled like booze and pot. A myriad of girls were sitting on different guys’ laps. People were lounging on the furniture and taking shots at the bar. It seemed like the exact place I would have wanted to be just a few months ago. Maybe I still did.

  Hollis walked around as if he were everyone’s best friend. A handshake here, a fist bump there, and a few snide remarks until he’d made a full circuit.

  “Guys, this is Grant McDermott. He’s the lead singer of ContraBand.”

  “Stellar,” one guy said. He looked completely obliterated.

  “Dude, nice Gibson,” another guy said.

  I really wanted to say that these guys looked familiar. There was a nagging feeling at the back of my mind, but I just couldn’t place them. And maybe I should care more, but I didn’t.

  “Grant, this is Donovan, Ridley, Joey, Nic, and Trevor.”

&nbs
p; Oh fuck!

  “The Drift.”

  As soon as I opened the door to my room, everyone started speaking at once. I hadn’t expected to be bombarded, and I jumped clear out of my skin. I groaned at the sudden movement, and I couldn’t keep from wincing at the soreness between my legs.

  “Ah!” Cheyenne shrieked. “I know that face.”

  “What face?” I asked defiantly.

  “You did it, didn’t you?”

  “Did what?”

  I knew I wasn’t going to keep this from them. Cheyenne, Shelby, and Gabi had been trying to get me to lose my virginity in the year and a half since I started living with them. It had been downright shocking to them that I still had my V-card after all this time. Well, I guessed I didn’t have it anymore.

  A smile touched my lips.

  “You did! That smile!” Cheyenne continued.

  “Cheyenne, leave her be,” Shelby said.

  “But did you?” Gabi asked in her soft voice.

  “You guys are so nosy.” I tried to walk around them to my luggage. I seriously was in need of a shower and change of clothes.

  Cheyenne started giggling. “You can’t even walk straight.”

  “I’m fine.”

  “We’re just excited for you,” Shelby said, smacking Cheyenne on the arm.

  I flounced down on the bed and sighed. As much as I wanted to remain stoic about the whole thing and keep so much of it private, just the thought of what had occurred brought another smile to my lips. God, that man!

  “Yeah, so spill the details!” Cheyenne cried.

  I opened my mouth to tell them what had happened, but instead, I said the first thing that came to mind, “I heard you were with Vin last night.”

  “Um…yeah! It was fucking amazing.”

  “Yeah, actually, she won’t shut up about it,” Shelby said.

  “I could probably give you a play-by-play,” Gabi confirmed.

  A part of me wanted to tell Cheyenne what had happened between Vin, Miller, and Sydney. She should know what she was getting into, but as she started yammering on about dick size, how rough he had been, and a whole slew of other things I didn’t want to know, I just couldn’t break it to her. She was too happy about what had happened. Plus, Sydney lived in Tennessee. It wasn’t like that was going anywhere. As far as I could tell, Sydney was more interested in Miller, and Vin had just overreacted. No need to bring it up unnecessarily.