Take Me for Granted

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.