Wasted (Kenshaw Ranch Book 5)

by Piper Frost

  "Fuck!" she screams and her hand slides between my legs but the way her whole body's trembling makes me tighten my thighs around her hand and it's only another minute before she screams with her orgasm.

  "God, fuck, shit," Tommy blurts, slamming into her hard enough to make the whole bed shake before he lets out a growl and empties himself into her. "Holy fuck," he pants.

  I grin, watching the two of them then turn back to Grant who's just as mesmerized by that show as I am.

  "You want to fuck me, bad boy?" I trace the head of his dick with my fingertips.

  "No, baby." His grin is so loaded. "Open those pretty lips, Carter Dawn. Suck me until I say stop." He shifts his hips and drags his cock up my neck to my mouth.

  I do as he says but only because I don't feel like poking the bear. He's pissed. My mouth opens and someone behind me drags their tongue down my ass then back up again before a finger slides inside me, making me moan just as Grant's pushing his dick to the back of my throat. I gag because I wasn't ready for it but he doesn't let up. I have to breathe through it and relax my throat to let him go deeper. I think it's Tommy's hand in my pussy right now because Affton's didn't feel like that, but not knowing who's playing with me is hot as fuck.

  Grant gathers my hair and I lock eyes with him. The look on his face is still anger but he's so hard, each time he hits the back of my throat I gag. He doesn't stop and I suck harder while he fucks my face. His grip in my hair tightens after a few minutes.

  "Such a good slut." He grunts before pulling his dick from my mouth and gripping himself, shooting his orgasm over my face. I can't pull back because his fingers are twisted in my hair, holding me still. He grunts two or three times, not pulling away until he's done, and when he is, he leaves the room like he was never here.

  "What the fuck," I mutter, trying to wipe my face off with the bed sheet. I turn and see Affton glaring at the door and realize whoever was playing with me has stopped. "What the fuck was that?" I ask both of them.

  Her wide eyes go to Tommy. "She broke Grant," she whispers like I'm not supposed to hear her then hurries off the bed and grabs her robe, rushing out of the room, leaving me and Tommy.

  "You didn't finish," Tommy says.

  "Yeah, no, I fucking realize that." I pull myself off the bed, bringing the sheet with me and storm to my bedroom.

  Fuck him. And fuck country boys.

  ***

  The plane ride home isn't as awkward as I thought it'd be. Affton is the same old awesome best friend. Tommy's his usual attentive self with Affton. Grant hasn't spoken a word to me since he stormed out of the room last night.

  Maybe it's for the better.

  I pull out my laptop once we get home and start looking at nearby apartments. I know Affton said I could move upstairs but it's not going to hurt seeing what's out there. Just as I'm about to virtually tour a place on the other side of town she walks into the room. I slam my laptop closed and smile over at her.

  "What's up?"

  "Hey." She's got that worried smile on her face and sits next to me, grabbing my hand. "We haven't really talked about what happened and I just want to make sure you're not uncomfortable around me and Tommy now. I'd feel like shit if I ruined our friendship."

  "You didn't ruin anything." I nudge her and give her hand a squeeze. "I'm just exhausted from our trip. I know tomorrow morning our fast paced days will pick back up so I was taking today to kind of lay low." I give her a smile and rest my head on her shoulder. "You and Tommy are pretty much everything I aspire to be one day."

  She laughs and rubs my back before standing up and walking toward the sink. "That shit with Grant." She looks at me with her brows high before turning her attention to the sink. "He had a stick up his ass that night."

  I laugh at her choice of words. "You don't say," I mutter, shaking my head. "Don't worry about it, Affton. It's fine. Everything's fine. I know I didn't do anything and he's just sensitive, I guess."

  She laughs and shakes her head in confusion. "But he's not and that's why it was weird. He said it's 'cause he was sober." Rolling her eyes, she leans against the counter. "Sadly enough, that's probably the truth. Sobriety can piss off a drunk and that ass is definitely a drunk."

  "You could say that again," I murmur then glance up at her. "I always thought you guys joked about that. Is he really a drunk? How the hell does he do his job?"

  "Um." She furrows her brows in thought. "I mean, I guess he's just become a fully functioning alcoholic?" She laughs. "It's not funny. It's sad but honestly I think when you're rarely sober, sobriety is when you start acting like the fool."

  "He definitely did that." I shake my head, taking a breath. "Hey, I'm going to head out for a bit if that's okay?" I want to go check out the apartment I saw online but I don't want to tell her until I know if it's even something I'd consider. God knows what this town looks like when it's not spruced up by a realtor trying to sell it.

  "Yeah. Will you stop at the Kenshaw's for milk?"

  "Sure thing." I grab my purse and start my car's automatic starter to cool it off. "I'll be back later." I let out a puff of air as soon as I make it outside and try to spend the drive to the apartment not thinking about Grant. Not worrying about him. Definitely not wondering if anything would ever happen between us now. I really seemed to piss him off that night and I don't even know what I did wrong!

  I park in front of the building and don't even bother getting out. It's still light outside but this isn't a place I'd want to live whether it's light or dark. Creepy doesn't cut it. Maybe living on the third floor of Affton and Tommy's mansion wouldn't be the worst thing. It's big enough. And it's almost like an apartment already.

  Abandoning the apartment tour, I pull the car around and head for milk at the Kenshaws'. Hopefully I can keep this short and sweet because every time I come here, someone tries to show me something farmy. Finally on the road after Donna talked my ear off, I'm heading home just as the sun's setting. These two lane roads are so fucking stupid because God knows who's going to swerve wrong or what animal is going to jump out in front of you.

  There's a motorcycle in front of me and I hate it because it makes me think of Grant. I don't want to think about that dick. But god, I can't stop thinking about his dick. Why the fuck wouldn't he fuck me? He'd been begging since the day he met me and the one time I give him the go ahead he turns me down? This is why men suck!

  I watch this motorcycle start to swerve and slow my car, unsure of what's going on. If I had a way of stopping them I would but when the bike goes to take a turn on the road too sharp it loses control on the gravel road and the bike and driver go sliding into the ditch. I scream, slamming on my breaks and killing my engine before running to the accident.

  "Are you okay!" I shriek, bolting toward the person lying on the ground.

  Person. The one fucking person I can't stop thinking about and now I'm terrified because there's lots of scrapes and blood and he looks like he's in a fuck ton of pain.

  "Grant?" I blurt, kneeling next to him. "Grant, are you hurt?"

  He turns his head to look at me and a smile slides over his lips. "Hey, baby." The alcohol wafting off him makes me reel back.

  "Fuck, Grant, how much did you have to drink?" I grimace and help sit him up. He's got blood coming out of a few cuts on his face and his hand is torn up, but luckily the helmet took the most of the hit.

  "I'm drunk," he assures me, slowly getting to his feet. Swiping his hand under his nose he groans. "And bloody." He stumbles a few times, trying to get to his bike and when he tries to lift it, he falls to his ass.

  "You're not riding that bike out of here, Grant." And I only mean it because the bike's in a few different pieces. That, and I'd never let him operate anything while this drunk. "Get in my car, I'll get you to Tommy's and we'll clean you up." Affton really wasn't kidding about him being a drunk, but she said high functioning. This man doesn't look like he can function at all right now.

  "Negative. Tommy won't know about thi
s little slip. Imma get my bike outta that ditch and be on my merry little way." He tries again with the bike but realizing he can barely stand, he plops to his ass and lays back. "I'm so fucked," he huffs.

  "Come on, Sally," I mutter. "We need to get you cleaned up." I shake my head and start to lift under his arms, almost having to drag his ass back to the car with the little help he gives me. He starts to protest about his bike but I press my finger to his lips. "Your bike isn't driving away from this. You can get it tomorrow...or something..." I huff, seeing the blood on my hands when I finally get him to my car. "Grant, maybe we need to get you to a hospital." I lean down and look at all the cuts on him. "Some of these look pretty deep."

  "Negative again, good girl. Do me a favor and just get me home." His head lays back on the seat and he closes his eyes. "Tommy can't know about this."

  "Because he'll murder you for drinking and driving?" I mutter, starting up my car.

  He laughs. "Somethin' like that. You can keep a secret, right?"

  "Yep. In that tight ass of mine."

  He groans. "That fucking tight ass. I been thinking about that tight ass all day."

  I bet he has. "Can you just tell me where I'm going?"

  He starts directing me in the opposite way I was driving and before we know it I'm parked back in front of the dumpy apartments I left earlier.

  "You live here?" I didn't mean for it to come out that snobby, but...he lives here?

  He laughs. "We can't all be the Tommy's of the south. Nice house. Hot wife. Life made. Sometimes a man gets second best. Thanks, good girl." He pushes open the door and practically falls out of the car.

  "Fucking hell," I mumble, turning off the car and shoving my purse around me. "Come on, which one's yours?" I say after rounding the car and helping him up.

  "I—" His boot slips and he fumbles until I yank him up. "I'm drunk." He huffs in defeat. "I don't know the last time I was actually drunk," he says this in wonderment before unlocking the door.

  "Probably earlier this morning," I mutter under my breath. We walk in and I find a lamp, switching it on while he falls to the couch. "Grant, don't go to sleep!" I bark. "I need to clean you up. Where's your first aid?"

  I'm met with a snore. God, he's infuriating.

  I find his bathroom and rummage through his cabinet for the necessities, then kneel at the side of the couch.

  "Grant?" I whisper, a cotton ball with alcohol on it in hand. A snore comes out of him and I cover my mouth with my shirt because the man smells like he's probably got a few bottles of tequila in him. I wince as I push the cotton ball to the first laceration on his forehead.

  "Fuck!" His hand wraps tightly around my wrist and he's looking at me like I just cut him open. "You crazy broad!" He shoves away from me.

  "I tried waking you up." I shrug and grab another cotton ball, soaking it with alcohol again. "Sit the fuck still or this is just going to get worse. I need to get the rocks out of your forehead."

  "No, you need to get the fuck home. Why are you here, Carter Dawn?" He rubs at his forehead and the pieces of gravel start to fall to the carpet.

  "You don't remember crashing your bike?" I ask in amusement before reaching out and pushing the cotton ball to a cut on his cheek. A part of me really enjoys this torture.

  "Shit, woman!" He hisses. "Calm the fuck down, alright?" he bellows and grabs my wrists. "Just calm down a minute." He's so drunk he has no idea what's going on but he gets me to the couch and pulls my back against his front, cuddling around me. "Just like that, baby. Right where I like that tight ass," he tiredly mumbles and pushes his dick against my ass, holding me tightly. "Tonight we spoon. In the morning I empty my nuts in you." He chuckles but a few seconds later starts to snore.

  I roll my eyes, letting his hands hold me and give in to the forced snuggle until I know he's passed out again. I slowly push his hands off me and wriggle my way off the couch without waking him, then decide to go a little gentler with the cleaning this time. It's actually much easier cleaning up the man when he's passed out as opposed to rip roaring drunk. Once I have a few bandages placed and I'm certain he's not going to die in his sleep, I grab a pillow from his bed and prop myself up next to him on the couch, shooting Affton a text that I'm not going to be home tonight.

  Don't ask me what brought me here, other than my daddy always teaching me to be kind to people. But I'm here, and I'm not leaving until I know he's safe.

  Fucking hell. I haven't felt this kind of pain in a long, long time. Goddamn tequila. No man in his right mind should drink tequila. But I wasn't in my right fucking mind. And now I'm paying for it. I slowly sit up, feeling like I was hit by a truck and I don't remember a hangover ever feeling this bad. It's been years since I've had a hangover. You reach a certain point in alcoholism that your body becomes hungover when you're sober, and I was to that point. Then, tequila happened. Actually, some uptight good girl happened, which drove me to tequila.

  "Fuck!" I scream in anger and pain. Anger about drinking tequila and the reasons I drank it.

  When a girl shrieks after my yell, I jump up and try to focus my gaze on who the hell's in my apartment, but I can barely see straight.

  "What the fuck?" I mumble, moving closer. "Carter?" My brows go high and I look down, making sure I'm wearing clothes and that's when I notice the blood. "Oh fuck!" I bellow and yank my shirt off. "What the fuck happened?" I scream at her in a panic.

  "Well, he's not dead, folks." She's got that usual snarky tone and she stands then stretches her arms over her head. "You had a death wish last night, Grant Matthews. You fucking idiot. I saved you. You're welcome."

  "Well." I study the shirt and start to believe her with the amount of blood on it. "Thanks, sweetheart, but how about you elaborate over some coffee." I stumble to the kitchen with a limp and realize I definitely got into some trouble last night.

  My K cups seem to take a year longer than usual but I set a mug of coffee in front of her as she waits at the kitchen table.

  "So, where do you come into play with all this? I'm guessing I was in a fight." I try to rack my brain but I got nothing.

  She spins the coffee mug in her hands and glances up at me with pity written all over that pretty fucking face. "You honestly don't remember anything from last night, do you?"

  "Did you at least get off?" I smirk at her, but she's not amused. "No. Nothing." I wave her on to get the actual story.

  "From what I took, you're the last person to worry about me getting off." Her eyes glare into mine and she slowly takes a sip of her coffee. "So, Grant, you want...explicit details?"

  I chuckle, loving a good ole scorned female. "Depends if you're going to disappoint again."

  "Me?" she blurts, her eyebrows shooting up as high as they can fucking go. "I...excuse me?" She stands and storms over to me, shoving her finger in my chest and making me wince. "I did nothing fucking wrong, you dick. You're the one that stormed out of that room pouting!"

  "You broke the bet. You fucking lied. We had a bet going and I held up my end. I fucking won and you backed out. It was between us. Not the four of us and I didn't even get what I won, then you gave what I wanted to Tommy before giving it to me!"

  She starts to laugh. A slow, low laugh. Something that should probably creep me out.

  "I gave...what you wanted?" Her mouth pops open and her eyes are wide. "And I guess my pussy was used goods after his dick was in me so you no longer wanted it?"

  I shrug, keeping my eyes on my coffee before taking a drink. When she scoffs, I slam it down. "Fucking shoot me for wanting something first. Fucking shoot me. Literally," I groan and shove my hands through my hair as my head pounds.

  "First of all, the deal was never that it'd be just me and you. Never was that specified. And secondly, how the fuck are you mad at me for this?" She laughs harshly. "Sounds like you need to take that up with your best friend."

  "First of all, darlin'. The deal was you give me explicit details of what you want me to do to your pussy, then I do
it. Telling two men you want a dick in ya ain't what I asked for. It ain't Tommy I got the problem with. It's you wanting Tommy over me." I slam my fist to the table, not wanting to say that out loud. I'm not jealous of my best friend, but maybe I got some resentment that Barns is trusted and wanted more than me by this girl.

  "I don't want Tommy!" she barks, laughing hard. "I wanted you, you fucking fuck head!" She shakes her head, then steps closer to me. "I wanted your dick in my pussy. I wanted your hands around my neck. I wanted your come inside me. Not his." She's so close I can smell her. "So maybe you could reel back the jealousy and we can talk this out like adults and not try to drink ourselves into an early grave."

  "You pulled the stick out of your ass for another man after telling me you're not uptight for how long?" I stand and stare down at her. "You asked for a dick, and if this was the dick you wanted, you should have probably asked for it. Don't matter, I got to see that pretty face covered in my come. It was good enough." That's a goddamn lie and that's why I was tequila drunk last night, still not knowing what the hell happened.

  "It was good enough, huh?" She cocks her head and steps toward me, hear hand gripping my dick through my jeans. "So you got your good enough and that's it? That how it works?"

  I chuckle and grit my teeth while her grip tightens. Grabbing her wrist I lean toward her face. "Don't start nothing you don't intend to finish, Carter Dawn," I warn her.

  "Who said I don't intend on finishing this time? It's been a while since I've finished, Grant Matthews."

  "I coulda helped you with that problem a long while ago if you woulda pulled the stick outta your ass." I thrust against her palm.

  "I never had a fucking stick in my ass," she growls. "Or a dick, for that matter." She strokes me over my jeans and pushes on her tiptoes. "So you going to fuck me now or am I going to have to go home and take care of this soaking pussy without you?"

  "Ask for it." I'm in control here.

  She's gonna have to learn to unwind a little before I put my dick anywhere near her again. Takes a lot to get me off anymore and I'd hate to have the first girl I've actually craved ruin what I know can be a good time.