Drilled: A Blue Collar Bad Boys Book Read online

  Table of Contents

  About this Book

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Epilogue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Epilogue

  About this Book

  Graden

  Four years ago, my buddy’s dying words to me were to watch out for his little sister.

  I did what he asked from afar, and when she graduated and got a job teaching kindergarten, I asked her to “housesit” for me since I’m hardly ever home when I’m working on the oil rig.

  But now I’m injured and have to recuperate at home, and my extra-curvy housesitter is anything but safe from me.

  She’s the homebody type. She’ll make some man an excellent wife someday, be a good mother. She likes taking care of people. It would be wrong AF to take her the way I want to, but it would feel so right.

  When she comes to me for advice about how to get a boyfriend and how to keep him, I’m done playing her silent guardian.

  I’ll teach her everything she needs to know about pleasing a man—me.

  She says all she’s ever really wanted to do was be a mama. And now I can’t stop thinking of putting my baby in her belly.

  Author’s Confession: This story is trope soup and I loved every minute of writing it. Don’t believe me? Older man/ younger woman. First time. Roommates. Older brother’s best friend. BBW heroine. Alpha real man hero. Guardian/Ward. Breeding romance. Insta-lust. Heck, if I’d have given one of them amnesia, we’d have a serious drinking game!

  Drilled

  BRILL HARPER

  Blue Collar Bad Boys

  BOUNCED

  NAILED

  DRILLED

  WRECKED (COMING SOON)

  Copyright © 2017 Brill Harper.

  ISBN: 9781521733202

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  www.brillharper.com

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  Chapter One

  GRADEN

  My roommate is giving me a hard-on.

  She’s breezing in and out of the room now because she's getting ready to go out on a date. It’s just as well. She smells too damn good, and one of these times she passes by me on the couch, I’m liable to reach out and pull her down to me. Mold my hand around those curves. Kiss those heart-shaped lips that haunt my dreams all night long and tempt my control in the daylight hours.

  She doesn’t know what she’s doing to me. How she's awakened the…I guess you'd call it beast…inside me. Hell, if she knew about the things I want to do to her, she’d pack a bag and run.

  But that’s just it. Where would she go?

  I’ve spent the last four years taking care of her from afar, but she doesn’t know it. She doesn’t know the renewable, annual scholarship that paid her tuition, room, and board all through college was funded by me. She doesn’t know the car she “won” is a gift from me, either.

  And the condo? It’s mine, too. That she knows. She was supposed to be housesitting for me while I was out on the oil rig. But until I’m done with physical therapy and my foot injury is healed enough to go back to work, my ass is planted on this couch during the day and the guest room at night.

  Yeah, I sleep in the guest room of my own house.

  I only bought this condo so Rebecca would have a safe place to stay. I had to buy furniture to make it look even a little lived in. I used to just have a small shitty apartment and storage unit to store what little stuff I owned. I spend most of my life on the oil rig where I work. When I have time off, I usually travel on my Harley or park my ass on a Mexican beach. Away from people. Away from women I could hurt.

  I don't like hurting women.

  So sure, I told her to take the master suite when I asked her to move in. I made sure it had a luxury bathroom because chicks dig that shit, and I wanted her to live here a long time so I could easily keep an eye on her.

  I’m not a stalker or anything.

  I’m just a man of my word. I made a promise to her brother.

  My best friend, Rebecca’s older brother Cameron, was in a bad car wreck four years ago. There was nothing I wouldn’t do for my buddy, he was more like my brother than a friend, so when he made me promise to look out for his baby sister, I vowed to him I would.

  And then he died.

  This is not what he meant when he asked me to take care of her. The way I imagine defiling her over and over again. She's too sweet for a guy like me. Too pure.

  She was raised to be a good girl. From a good family. Cam and Rebecca’s parents are respectable people, but not rich people. Cam had been helping them with bills and had been planning on helping with college for his baby sister. His dying left them in a bad place, emotionally and financially. I’m not rich or anything, but I make damn good money, and I don’t spend much of it. So, I played like Santa’s fucking elf and took care of shit.

  But Cam’s baby sister isn’t a baby anymore. Something I wasn’t prepared for when I moved back into the condo for the summer.

  She’s fucking stacked. She’s round everywhere, man. Her body has got my hands itching. I want to map every hill and valley of her lush figure with my tongue. She's not slender, like the women I usually get hot for. She's plumper. Womanly. Like those fertility statues in museums. It makes me want to grab her everywhere.

  I want her as mine.

  She’s too young. Too innocent. And she wants the kind of life that includes a picket fence and family portraits on Instagram. I’m not that guy. I’m the guy who could fuck her, and fuck her well. But that’s it.

  I'd wreck her, though. I'm too brutal. Too rough. Too big.

  Everywhere.

  “Graden? How’s your foot?” She’s standing in front of me adjusting her purse on her shoulder. Because she’s ready to go. On her date.

  I want to punch a fucking wall, but I’ve got no right.

  “It’s fine.” My foot hardly ever bothers me, but the doctors say my threshold for pain is high, too high, so I need to be even more careful. I don’t like feeling like a wuss and doing nothing when I should be working, but if I reinjure it because I don’t feel the pain, I could end up permanently unable to go back to my job.

  “Did you take your pill?” She's holding my prescription, rattling the pills in the bottle. I hate those things.

  “I don’t need one.”

  “Graden, you know what the doctor said.”

  I give her what I hope is a reassuring smile. “I’m not in any pain. Now go. Text me when you get there so I know you’re safe.”

  “Okay, Daddy.” She sticks her tongue out at me.

  Fuck me. I know she means it in a funny, sarcastic way. But all I can
think of is her calling me “Daddy” when I’m pumping my cock into her. And that tongue she stuck out, the dreams I’ve been having about that tongue…

  I need to get back to work on the rig. There is no way I can survive the summer in close quarters with her and keep our relationship platonic. She thinks of me like some kind of foster big brother. I’m supposed to think of her like a sweet, baby sister.

  But I don’t. I used to. But I don’t anymore. Not since I saw her for the first time in the flesh last month. Back when Cam was alive, I saw his pictures of her and they never did anything for me. She was cute then. Awkward. A kid. After he died, I saw her once at the funeral. I kept in contact with her parents, and she and I texted sometimes or emailed. But I hadn’t seen her since. I didn’t know.

  She’s a woman now. A beautiful one. But a sweet one. Somehow naïve despite the world we live in. Cam would expect me to honor that. Take care of that innocence.

  Not fuck it right out of her. Like I want to.

  And so, instead of hooking my arm around her waist and bringing all that softness into my lap, I send her off on a date with someone else. I don’t get to be territorial.

  But I swear to God I want to kill this Trent or whatever the fuck his name is that’s taking her to a ballgame. I’m pretty sure she doesn’t even like baseball. I doubt he cares.

  “Dinner is in the fridge. You just need to nuke it to warm it up.” She does that. Every night now.

  “You don’t have to cook for me. I’m not an invalid. I can cook my own food.” My words come out short and grumpy. Which is how I feel, but she doesn’t deserve that.

  “I know I don’t have to. I like taking care of you. Besides, it’s the least I can do when you let me live here rent free.”

  “You’re doing me a favor. I don’t like leaving this place empty.” I shake my head. "Sorry I snapped at you. You know I love your cooking, right?" Because I do. It's like…this is going to sound stupid…but it's like I can feel how much she cares in each bite.

  She leans down and kisses the top of my head. Her tits are in my face, and it takes everything I have not to grab them and suck on them through that damn T-shirt.

  As soon as she goes, I’m going to have to rub one out because my balls are fucking full.

  She gets to the door when her phone dings, and she looks down at the message. Her face falls. Her lips press into a tight line, and her hand starts to shake. I’m across the room before I realize I’ve gotten up. “What’s wrong?”

  She shakes her head. “Nothing.”

  Fuck that shit. I take her phone, hold her wrist when she tries to get it back. I read the message.

  Decided I don’t want you to get the wrong idea, babe. Just want to be friends. Best we skip game. Taking my brother instead.

  That little fuck.

  “May I have my phone, please?” Her voice is strained.

  “He’s a punk.”

  “Whatever.” She takes her phone back. “I’m just going to go lay down for a while. I have a headache.”

  I haven’t let go of her wrist. “Don’t do that. Don’t let the punk who wasn’t good enough for you make you feel bad. He’s an asshole.”

  “You don’t even know him.”

  “Any guy that cancels at the last minute by text is an asshole. I promise. You deserve better.”

  Shit. She’s starting to tear up. I don’t know how to handle her tears. I can barely handle her smiles. They make me try to think of shit to keep her happy. But tears, man, I will rip the arms off the bastard if it stops her tears. I’ll do whatever the fuck she needs to never see them fall.

  “I’m not really sure I deserve better anymore. It’s starting to feel like I don’t deserve anyone at all.” She frowns at me while looking at my foot and then over to the couch. “You left your cane over there.”

  She brings it to me, and I grab her around the middle and make her sit on the couch with me. “Tell me what’s going on.”

  Rebecca covers her face with her hands. “I don’t want to.”

  “Becks,” I growl. I can’t fix it if I don’t know. Did she really like that guy? Should I go drag his ass back here?

  “I need some kind of intervention. I’m so stupid.”

  “Now you’re pissing me off. There’s nothing about you that is stupid. What’s going on?”

  “There is something wrong with me, and I really don’t think you’re the person I can talk to about it.”

  That kind of hurts, and I don’t know why.

  “You can tell me anything.”

  “Not this.”

  I’m holding in a growl. Actually, it’s more like a primal howl. She’s holding back from me. Hiding something from me. It should be her own damn business; she owes me nothing at all. But tell that to the caveman inside who thinks she belongs to us.

  “You can tell me anything. I’ll always help you. You know that.”

  “I don’t think you want to help me with this. Nobody, it seems, wants to help me with this.”

  I’m trying to be patient. Really, I am. “Have I ever let you down?”

  She looks at me, her eyes shining. “No. You’re the best man I know, Graden.”

  “Well, that’s pushing it.” I swipe my thumb across her cheek, wiping away the wetness before I give in to the urge to taste her tears. “Just tell me what the problem is. I’ll make it better. You know I will. I can fix damn near anything.”

  “The problem is…oh God, I can’t believe I’m telling you this. The problem is that I’m a virgin.”

  Chapter Two

  REBECCA

  I want to reach out and pull the words back into my mouth. But they are out there now, and Graden looks like I just slapped him across the face.

  “You’re a virgin?”

  Like, is this the worst thing in the world or something? I mean, it’s a little annoying to me, but why is this some big issue for him? “Never mind. It’s not a big deal.”

  “Were you going to give it to him?”

  Now I feel like the one who got slapped. It? Crass much? “Maybe I was. It doesn’t matter now, does it? Trent didn’t want it. Nobody wants it.” And I am making this hole so much deeper than it needs to be. But hey…I can crawl into it and hide now.

  “Why?”

  “Why what?”

  He leans back against the cushion. “Why are you still a virgin? Why were you going to give it to him? Why nobody else? I don’t know. I’m trying to figure out what’s going on.”

  I want to tell him it’s none of his business. But I guess I made it his business when I told him. “In high school, I wasn’t ready when the rest of my friends were. In college, I don’t know…I was still sad about my brother, and then I was just too busy to worry much about guys. And now it sort of feels like this anchor. Like something I want to get rid of. But then again, I’ve waited this long, so it feels like I should at least be serious about someone. At the very least, third date material. Except, I can’t seem to get a second date. Which means no third date.” I cover my face again. This is too much. Graden does not need to know this.

  He pulls my hands back down. He’s shifted so he’s hovering a little so he can keep my wrists at my side. “Why?”

  “That’s what I’d like to know. At first I thought it was my body.” I look down at my obvious curves. My many obvious curves.

  “There is nothing wrong with your body.”

  I shrug. “I know I’m not skinny. And I get asked out on first dates, so I don’t know, some guys like their women plump, I guess. But everything just fizzles out on the dates. Sometimes I know it’s not going anywhere, so I don’t expect a call, or I ask them not to call. But lately, I’ve been willing to at least try date number two…but it never surfaces. Maybe they can smell my desperation.” I look into his dark eyes. They are so intense. So focused on me. I have to swallow hard. My throat feels tight. “Do I smell desperate to you?”

  I tilt my head to look at him. His face is close. I can feel the heat of his sk
in. His breath on me. The world pauses for a second until he blinks like he’s waking up. “You smell like cookies to me.”

  I inhale sharply. His words kiss something inside me, and my belly tightens.

  “Cookies?”

  “Yeah. You smell good, babe.”

  I have to laugh a little. He doesn’t pay compliments like most people. But you never have to wonder if he means what he says. There’s nothing artificial in his words. Ever. If he says I smell like cookies, that means he likes how I smell because I’ve seen how much he likes cookies.

  “I don’t know what I’d do without you, Graden.” Sometimes I wonder what I’d do with him, if given the chance. Graden is like every dream, every fantasy, I’ve ever had rolled into one extra-large, extra-handsome package. Nothing about him is soft or sweet at first glance. He’s big, beastly really. Every muscle comes from hard work. But the sweetness is there, under the rough exterior.

  He thinks of me like a little sister, though. And I just worship him from afar. If I can’t get a guy like Trent, there’s no way I could get a guy like Graden. I don’t know the kind of women he dates, but I can guess. Not chubby girls who teach kindergarten who’ve never seen a penis up close that wasn’t on a porn site.

  So, yeah, getting distracted now.

  “Well, there are worse things to smell like than cookies,” I say. “But then I still don’t know what’s wrong with me. All I've ever really wanted was a family of my own, and maybe that's the problem. Even though I don't wear a sign that says, "I want to get married and have your babies," that's what they sense. But I don't want to just jump into a committed relationship any more than they do. I just want to see where things could go.” I pat his knee. “I really am going to go lay down for a while. I think I need comfy clothes and Mr. Darcy.”