Conquer

By S.J. McGran

My name is Angelica McCoy and I am a man-eater. I use men. I use them to make me feel worthy and beautiful, to help me get through the day. To help me forget.

That is until a certain man walked into my life and turned it upside down. He’s the only person that’s been able to see through the lies, the bullshit masks. He turns every wall I've carefully constructed around my broken heart to rubble.

Without questioning it, without asking for permission he takes my heart and makes it his.

The question is can I get over my own fears, the suffocating disbelief in happily ever after to give him what he needs? What he deserves?

• Language: English
• Publisher: S.J. McGran
• Release date: Nov 10, 2014
• ISBN: 9781310336522

S.J. McGran

Born November 22, 1987, S.J. McGran is a new author with a penchant for writing, reading and reviewing romance novels.She lives in Toledo, Ohio with her husband, cat and lots of siblings. She is a die-hard Detroit Tigers fan, and has a love for ice cream and pizza.

Book preview

Prologue: Angelica

August, Junior Year

A jazz band starts playing a sexy tune just as the sun starts to set, casting a pinkish-orange hue over the lawn. My parents are holding their annual End of the Summer Charity Ball. Every year we rent out the private golf course my father belongs to and bring in the best catering and entertainment in the area in hopes of hitting our yearly donation goal. The money we make tonight will be distributed to several non-profit organizations in the city.

I usually enjoy this event. Tonight, however I feel off—like I’m not supposed to be here anymore. Like I no longer fit in with this crowd. I’m proud of who I am and where I come from and for the longest time I wanted the life my mother leads, the type of life these men can offer me.

I wanted to be the gorgeous girl dressed to the nine s in my designer dresses and heels, with my manicured fingers holding onto my man’s arm as he talks business with the other men. I wanted to have a man that could provide for me the way my father provided for my mother—with money.

My parents are lucky, though. My mother gets the money, the fame and the lifestyle that comes with marrying my father. But, unlike the rest of the women at the party who are only there to serve as arm candy, my mother also gets my father’s love.

When I was old enough to realize it was more than material things my father provided to us, I realized I wanted more, too. I want someone to love, someone who loves me back. Someone that can make me happy even without endless amounts of green paper and plastic American Express cards.

The band changes from the slow, dinner music to something a little more appropriate for dancing. I watch in a daze as a couple takes full advantage of the change. My attention is immediately drawn to them, captivated. They are absolutely beautiful.

I watch as he grabs her right hand in his, his other arm wrapping around her back pulling her tightly against his body. Her thighs nearly straddle one of his thick legs as they sway gracefully to the music.

Her long dark hair swirls with every twist, her form fitting black dress showing off her ample curves. Her counterpart has lost his suit jacket, his thin black tie loosened just slightly at his neck.

He dips her low, her legs sliding underneath him elegantly, sexily. The entire time they are dancing they have eyes for no one else. I watch as his hand slides lower on her back, resting just above the curve of her backside. They are pressed so closely together not an inch of light is seeping through the space between their bodies.

She looks up, catching his gaze before running her teeth over her bottom lip. I’m completely transfixed on the couple as he gives her a devilish grin, lowering his head to her lips. He takes her lips in an insanely sexy, completely inappropriate display of affection right there on the dance floor, in front of the city’s most influential.

I let out a light groan at the sight.

I was so lost in the moment, watching the erotic display in front of me that I failed to notice I was no longer alone. A deep voice rumbles in my ear from behind me, Sexy isn’t it? Another whimper escapes my lips. I don’t know if it’s from being aroused at watching the dancers, or if his husky, velvety-smooth voice is just that sexy but a current of arousal courses through me.

The stranger presses even closer to me, his hard chest barely grazing the bare skin of my back where my dress drapes low. I feel his hot breath on my neck this time before he speaks. Do you dance? For the first time in my entire life I’m rendered speechless. Usually I’m the one turning the opposite sex to mush, taking what I want and leaving them sated, replete and most importantly… behind.

Call me pretentious, call me conceited, but I’m well aware of the way I look. My blonde hair and green eyes are so typical, yet guys can’t get enough of them for some reason. I’m not curvy by any means. I’m tall and thin, but I have a decent rack that I show off any chance I get. Personally, I think it’s more about the way I carry myself than my actual looks. I’m confident, secure, independent. On the outside, anyways.

But this guy, the guy whose face I’ve yet to see has turned me into a blubbering mess. Still unable to form words I simply, embarrassingly, shake my head in answer at the stranger. Sure, I dance, I just don’t dance the way the couple stealing the show can. I hear a rumble of low laughter behind me as he chuckles at me; I fight the urge to whimper again. Please let this guy be as sexy as his voice… because holy shit.

Would you like to dance with me? His finger brushes from my neck down my exposed spine leaving goose bumps in its wake. Gripping my hips in his hands he pulls my body into him, I feel his hardness press into my ass and this time I fail at holding in my aroused sounds. I can show you how to dance like that.

Letting my head fall back onto his shoulder I close my eyes for a second hoping to gain at least an ounce of my usual confidence. Okay, I mumble.

With a few swift steps he moves around to the front of me grabbing my hands and pulls me in the direction of the dance floor. I only saw a sliver of his face but it was enough to entice me to follow him. My eyes skim what I can see as I walk dutifully behind him.

The first thing I notice is his height. I come in at 5’8, but this guy has to be a good six inches taller than me. At the very top of that long body is a bed of messy, just-fucked dark blonde hair. It’s the kind of hair you can’t help but grab onto in the heat of the moment. Moving lower I take in his white, tailored shirt that shows off a firm, lean body. The shirt is tucked into fitted black dress slacks; lower still I fix my sights on his perfect ass. It’s round, hard and downright delectable.

Noticing we’re stopped in the middle of the dance floor I bring my eyes back up impatiently waiting for him to turn around so I can get a good view of his face. Again, I find myself pleading with anyone that will listen—let his face be as sexy as his voice, as sexy as his ass, as sexy as his hair. Please, please, please.

The instant he turns to face me the air in my lungs leaves in a loud huff. The very first thing I notice are the sexy, dorky black glasses sitting on his perfectly formed nose. The second thing I notice are the eyes those glasses are trying to hide. His eyes are the brightest, most brilliant pair of blues I’ve ever seen.

I know I’m staring, but I can’t help it.

The longer I stare the more I realize his eyes aren’t blue at all, they’re teal. I’m taken back to our vacations in Aruba; his eyes the exact same shade as the ocean waters I’ve always loved. Fucking teal. Who has teal eyes? How is that even fair?

Clearing his throat the stranger looks down at me with a cocky smirk on his face. He’s well aware of the effect he’s having on me, the same effect he probably has on most women. Not one to apologize for my actions I just smirk right back at him, loving the way his lips curve even more at my arrogance.

Mimicking the dancers we watched earlier he takes one of my hands in his, the other resting dangerously low on my bare back—the skin-on-skin contact sending a delicious current down my spine. He positions us so our chests are pressing against each other, with both of my legs straddling one of his.

Almost instantly I relax into his grip and start to move with him, our hips moving in erotic synchronicity. Closing my eyes I take it all in. The feel of his hard, lean body pressed against mine, the musky scent of his cologne assaulting my nose, the sounds of the band. The band is playing a folky slow song about a love so overwhelming you can’t think about anything other than that person, how they make you feel, how you want forever with them. I get lost in the lyrics, and the way this man, whose name I still don’t know, is making me feel.

I want someone to love me as passionately as the singer feels about his muse. I want to find someone I can love that deeply, too.

I breathe out a soft moan at the feel of the stranger’s lips on my neck. My eyes pop open when I realize his lips are on me, kissing a hot path from my ear to my collarbone, his tongue dipping in to taste me in the hollow of my throat.

You’re stunning, he murmurs in a quiet whisper against my neck.

He dips me over his thigh so low my hair nearly touches the floor when I tilt my head back. One beat. Two. He pulls me back up and we are impossibly closer. This time when his full lips come down they land on mine.

I’m ready. I’m eager. I’m desperate.

His full lips move over mine expertly. They are demanding but controlling with little effort. His tongue meets mine in much the same way as our dance—in perfect synchronicity. I could kiss this man all night and not tire of it.

It’s only after someone clears their throat that I realize we are no longer moving to the music the band is playing. In fact, the only thing moving is our lips, our tongues as they rub and suck, and taste every inch of the other’s mouth. Still, we don’t stop.

We don’t stop until the stranger that interrupted us in the first place gets tired of our inappropriate display of PDA and pulls me by my shoulder away from him. I let out a sound of protest as our lips separate. If I thought I was desperate for his kiss before it’s nothing like I feel now. I want more of his lips, more of his sexy body.

Jesus, Ang. What the hell are you doing making out with the help like that? The disdain in his voice is clear. Turning my head I see my longtime fling, Brad, looking at me like I’ve lost my damn mind.

What? I glare back at him. Pissed that he broke up my moment. Brad’s a guy from my parents’ social circle. He’s cute with his boy next-door looks, but looks can be deceiving. The only good thing about Brad is that he’s looking for exactly the same thing I am—sex, no strings attached.

This, he gestures to the guy my body is distractedly craving, is Ryan Dalton. He’s one of the bartenders. He’s not worth your time. Brad grabs my elbow and pulls me off the dance floor, and away from Ryan before I have time to collect my thoughts. The last thing I see before I’m dragged around the corner is the glare on Ryan’s gorgeous face; the glare directed right at me.

Chapter One: Angelica

September, Senior Year

Thanks for that, handsome, I wink at the cute guy lying flat on his back, stark naked as I make my way across the room to my discarded clothes.

The guy whose name I already forgot props himself up on his elbows as his gaze rakes over my semi-nude from. I’ve left my bra and panties on, in too much of a hurry to fully undress.

You’re sure I can’t convince you to stay?

It takes everything in me not to roll my eyes. Isn’t the female supposed to be the one to get all clingy, wanting another round or a cuddle session? This is exactly why I don’t do relationships. Why I never give a guy more than one night.

That’s a lie. Exactly three guys have lasted more than one night in my bed.

Rico Jones has probably lasted the longest. I met Rico last year when my best friend, Zhoe, started dating his best friend, Jared. We’ve lasted as long as we have because he’s easy and understands the rules. He knows we’ll never have more than great sex, and maybe even a little friendship. When I can’t find a hot guy at the bar to take away the pain, the memories, I jump into Rico’s bed where he’s always willing to have me, especially now that his bed is just down the hall from mine. We fuck, we say good night and I pad down the hall back to my own bed to sleep alone. It’s perfect.

Number two is Brad Kane. He’s an old family friend that uses women and sex almost as often as I use men. No strings attached. Easy. Clean.

Guy number three is the reason I am the way I am. I wasn’t always a self-proclaimed man-eater. I used to have a heart. I used to be romantic. I used to want what Zhoe and Jared have. But, the love of my life left me here. He left me alone, taking my heart with him.

When you lose the one you’ve loved your whole life, the one you thought you were going to marry, it’s hard to bounce back. So I protect my heart the only way I know how. I put on my makeup, make sure my mask is securely in place and I use it to push people away. I take what I want from them, and then walk away before feelings get involved.

Zipping my skirt and bending to grab my heels, too eager to escape this room to put them on, I flash tonight’s one night stand my most seductive smile. Not tonight, big boy. But, maybe next time. I’ll call you. I make a dash for the door before the dumbass realizes I don’t even have his number, nor he mine. Exactly the way I like it.

Once in the safety of my car I let my head fall back against the seat and my eyes fall closed as I let out a long sigh, followed by a chuckle. I need help. I need to go to a sex-addicts meeting or maybe even a grief counselor. I can see it now— me standing in front of the room telling everyone my sordid past.

Hello, my name is Angelica McCoy and I am a man-eater. I love sex, I love the way it helps me escape, helps me forget the pain for even a minute. I love having a harem of sexy men following me around, eating out of the palm of my hand. But, let me tell you a secret… I want more. I want love. I want the pain to go away for good. I don’t want to cover it up anymore. Can you help me?

I let out a sad laugh before turning the key in the ignition and heading home. I check the clock and realize I have to be up in four hours for class. Great.

***

Morning, I mumble to Rico on my way to the kitchen for my much needed pot of coffee. Rico and I have been living together for nearly two months now and so far things have been great. He decided to move in with me when he got out of rehab, needing someone to keep him on track. Unfortunately, he doesn’t have any family left and his only real friend, Jared, is now engaged and shacked up with my best friend, Zhoe. That left me.

I don’t mind looking after him, and I especially don’t mind him living with me. I’ve never liked living alone and with Zhoe having lived with me for a few months after her and Jared broke up, (it’s a long story), I got used to sharing my home with someone.

Have fun last night? His voice is laced with a little annoyance that I choose to ignore. It’s too damn early to fight with him. Rico knows his place. He knows we are fuck buddies and that’s all we’ll ever be, but for some reason that doesn’t stop him from trying to be more, and because I’m an awful person, I let him try. He makes me feel wanted and sexy, and desirable.

Eh, it was alright.

What’s the matter, was he small? Rico asks with a cocky smirk on his too handsome face. I sigh inwardly as I take in his good looks—such a waste that we can’t be together. He is the epitome of tall, dark and handsome. His skin would make any girl jealous with its natural olive color that pairs perfectly with his honey brown eyes and dark brown hair that is always a little messy.

At one point I thought Rico was going to be the one to fill the void in my heart, to help me heal from my past. I was wrong. So wrong. Maybe in another life, or even at a different point in our lives we would have been right for each other but it’ll never work now.

I need someone that isn’t broken. I’m too damn broken myself. I need someone that can take care of themselves, and knows who they are and what they want. Rico is none of those things. He’s so damn lost right now he couldn’t find his way out of a cardboard box.

Without lifting my attention from the coffee dripping too slowly into the carafe I sneer at him. No his size was just fine, thank you. He was too clingy.

Rico gasps dramatically. What? Don’t tell me he actually wanted to cuddle with you after or maybe have a conversation. I just roll my eyes. This has been an argument between us for as long as I’ve known him. How are you supposed to know if he’s worth more than one night if you never give him a chance, Ang?

When I find the guy that makes me come five times in one night I’ll give him a chance.

I swear you were supposed to be a dude, he laughs and walks over to place a sweet kiss on top of my head. I’m glad he’s man enough to laugh off my comment. Rico’s good in bed, damn good, but the most I’ve ever come with him is twice. You’ll find him, baby girl. You’re too damn perfect to live life alone.

I scoff at him. You of all people know I’m far from perfect.

No, baby. You’re the only person in the world that doesn’t see how perfect you are. At that, he walks out of the kitchen leaving me alone with my thoughts.

I cannot for the life of me figure out what Rico sees in me that is so perfect. I’m a hot mess. I desperately want to forget about my past, about the man that inadvertently broke my heart, so I use people, especially men to make me feel better. I judge people without knowing them. I hold my head high and my nose even higher. I am not a nice person, and I’m definitely far from perfect.

Aside from all of that, I’ve held onto a secret for six years. A secret no one knows, not even my life long best friend. I buried this secret when I buried the love of my life and I have no intention of digging it out anytime soon.

Chapter Two: Angelica

Taking my usual seat in the back of the room with my to-go mug of coffee, I breathe a sigh of relief that Ryan isn’t there. Hopefully he won’t show up today. I could use one class, especially today with the way my head is feeling, without his constant nagging. He’s such a fucking dickwad. I have no idea what I did to him, but Ryan Dalton has made it his life’s mission to torture me.

I reach into my purse pulling out my iPad and my sunglasses. Whoever decided Friday morning classes were a good idea must have also decided translucent overhead lights were a good idea, too. Maybe they’ve never had a hangover before. Just as I’m sitting back up, my giant black sunglasses falling over my eyes I’m startled with a loud bang to my right.

I don’t even have to look to know who it is. Have a little too much fun last night, Duchess? Ryan mocks me. As always he looks perfect with his geeky GQ good looks. He’s wearing dark wash jeans that cling to his lickable ass perfectly, his plain white T-shirt is stretched taut across his shoulders and his blonde hair looks like he had a better fuck than I did last night. But, it’s his eyes that get me every time. They are so damn blue they almost hurt to look at. Thankfully he covers them with black rimmed glasses that make me want to rip his clothes off and do him in nothing but his sexy-specs. I guess thankfully isn’t the right word then. Unfortunately, maybe?

I would have much rather done you last night, Ryan, I purr at him in my most seductive voice. Ryan has become a personal challenge for me. I’ve never met a man that can say no to a chance to fuck me. But Ryan turns me down every single time. I have no idea why. I’ve often wondered if he’s gay, but I’ve seen him around campus with his arms around other girls, and his tongue down their throats.

Then I remember the way he kissed me last year at my parents’ party and I know for a fact he’s not gay. Far from it.

Ryan grabs my chair and scoots it towards his as he leans into me. He focuses on my lips for long seconds, darting his tongue out to wet his own. I feel my breathing catch. He’s so damn beautiful. There is nothing I want more than to suck on his lips for hours, days even. I’ve had the pleasure of feeling those lips work their magic once, and I want more.

Leaning even closer until his hot breath washes over my face and I’ve stopped breathing altogether, Ryan whispers in a raspy voice, Duchess, he pauses with his attention back on my lips. Is he really going to kiss me? Give it up. It’s never going to happen. At that he sits up straight and shoves my chair away from him until my side slams into the wall.

Stupid fucking asshole. Who the hell does he think he is? I don’t say anything. I don’t look in his direction for the remainder of class. I’m too pissed off, too embarrassed to do anything. Why am I not good enough for him? Why doesn’t he want me? It wasn’t always this way. The first night we met he wanted me, I know he did, but ever since that night he’s been a complete and total dick to me.

I’ve asked myself a lot of questions about Ryan over the last year, but the one that perturbs me most is Why the fuck do I care so much? He’s just a guy. There are plenty more cocks in the sea just waiting for me to give them a chance.

As if to prove me right, one of the guys that has been watching me the last couple of weeks walks over to me to just as I’m packing up my things at the end of class. He’s cute but unfortunately he has nothing on the guy sitting next to me taking up way too much of my brain space. I’m also a little put off that it’s taken him weeks to build up the courage to say anything to me.

Hey, Angelica. I offer him a small smile, focusing my attention on gathering my purse, So, um. I was wondering… He trails off his brown eyes catching Ryan’s, who only shakes his head, probably in disgust that someone is talking to me. Do you want to go out with me this weekend?

Seriously? That’s the best you’ve got? Weeks of prep time and that’s what you come up with? I’m sorry. What’s your name again?

Ryan scoffs before looking to the random guy standing in front of our table. Sorry, you’ll have to excuse Duchess here. She’s too wrapped up in herself to notice anyone else. Turning to me now he adds, This is Scott. You and he were partners the first week of class for that team-building exercise. Obviously it worked wonders on you.

Wait, what? I do not remember that happening at all. Maybe I was still drunk? But, the better question is how the hell does Ryan remember who I was partnered with? Was he watching me?

Turning back to Scott I finally answer his question. I’m sorry, Scott. I’m busy this weekend. He just stares at me like I stole his puppy he looks so dejected. A better person, a nicer person might care and offer some sort of condolence, but I’m too tired, my head is aching and I’m at my damn breaking point with Ryan and his better than thou attitude. So, instead of being the person I wish I could be, I do a very Angelica like thing. I grab my shit and hightail it out of the classroom.

I knew I should’ve stayed in bed today. What a fucking waste of a morning.

Chapter Three: Ryan

After my business management class with the Duchess herself I make my way across campus to my Macro class. I am officially in my last year of college. Finally. I’m an accounting major. I love numbers. I am a total geek at heart, though you’d never guess it by looking