Burning Daylight: Chapter 39

Preston Ascott is everything I expected him to be.

Smart, polite, gentlemanly, and just as handsome as he was back in high school.

He opens car doors and pushes in my chair when we arrive at Dante’s—the most renowned restaurant in our town, coincidentally owned by Paxton—and his eyes don’t stray from mine for a single second that we’re together.

It’s nice.

In any other universe, I’d be having a good time. But I can’t help the tinge of bitterness coating my tongue, knowing how he left me high and dry in the past, and that my parents still put us together like I’m cattle to be sold.

And that I’d rather be here with someone else.

But patience is a virtue, and if there’s one thing all those etiquette lessons taught me, it’s that waiting for the opportune time to make a move is paramount for success. For now, I’m playing the part.

I take a sip of my wine—the kind that Preston ordered for me when we sat down without asking what I’d like—and stare at him.

“Do you really want to date me again?” I interrupt whatever he’s saying.

He stops, his blue eyes sparking with surprise before he clears his throat. “Are you not having a nice time?”

“No, I am,” I reply. “Even though you’ve never apologized for the absolute prick way you broke up with me.”

He grimaces. “I was a kid, Jules⁠—”

I cut him off. “I just wonder if you’re here because you want to be, or if it’s because our family considers this political foreplay.”

Understanding flashes over his face, and he gives a small smile before shaking his head. “You don’t want to be here.”

“Not really, no.”

His lips purse, and he leans in, his hand covering mine on top of the table.

I look down at it, waiting to feel…something. But I don’t.

Slowly, I move my hand back until he’s not touching me at all.

“My parents didn’t put me up to anything,” he replies. “I’m a grown man who makes the decisions I want, when I want. And I want to take you out. I…I’ve missed you, Jules. Is that so bad?”

My shoulders relax. “No, that’s not bad.”

I do not want to date him again. In fact, thinking back, I’m not entirely sure if it was me who decided to pair up with him in the first place, or if it was something my mom whispered in my ear, even all those years ago. But I can’t help thinking maybe he’s stuck in this world, underneath his own family’s thumb the same way I am, despite him saying the opposite.

“If you have a horrible time and hate me, I promise I won’t push things. No matter how much your dad does scare me.” He chuckles. “But I want you to want to be here, Jules. Remember all the fun we used to have?”

Not really.

But those aren’t the words I latch onto. “Why does my dad scare you?”

He looks at me, confused. “What do you mean?”

“You just said, ‘no matter how much your dad does scare me,’ and I’m just wondering why that is? I mean, your dad is the governor. Why would mine be of any concern?” I rest my chin in my hand and flutter my lashes at him.

He takes a sip of his scotch and chuckles uncomfortably. “I mean, you have to know your dad is in bed with dangerous people.”

“Mm. Please, keep telling me about what I know.”

“You’re still so feisty.” He grins. “Give us a chance, sweetheart. If we happen to hit it off again and make our parents happy in the process…is that really such a bad thing?”

“Preston, don’t call me sweetheart, or my six-inch heels will end up in your lap. And it won’t be pleasant.”

“Sorry, old habits.” He puts his hands up like he’s waving a white flag. “Tell me about wanting to move out. I hear you’re wanting your own place?”

I tilt my head, keeping the smile on my face. “How did you…?”

He laughs. “Oh, I’m sorry. Are people not supposed to know about that? Your mom told me when we spoke the other day, and I just assumed it was public knowledge.”

A sinking feeling hits me in the gut.

It makes me uneasy knowing everyone is talking behind my back.

Plus, the reminder of just how much my mother truly likes Preston, and how in her pocket he is even after all these years, hits me in the face like an open-palm slap.

“What?” he asks, his grin dropping. “What did I say?”

Shaking my head, I swallow and glance down at my lap before looking back up at him. “Nothing. It’s just…you know how I feel about my mom.”

He’s no stranger to my tense relationship with her; he was often the in-between for us even back in high school and had to listen to me rant in the passenger seat of his car for hours after she did something that pissed me off.

“You’re still giving her a hard time, huh?” He chuckles.

I bristle, setting down my wine glass a little too hard. “I don’t know if that’s what I’d call it.”

“She just wants the best for you, Jules. One day you’ll realize that. She loves you.”

“My mother loves herself,” I correct. “Everything else is an obligation.”

Preston drums his fingers on the table, looking at me like I’m a child who’s amusing him instead of listening to the gravity of my words. “She said you were still like this.”

I grit my teeth, something hot and fiery unfurling in my chest. “Spoiler alert, this is who I am. Maybe you should go fuck her instead.”

He frowns. “Watch your mouth. I’m just saying.”

I breathe deeply through my nose, my fingernails pressing crescents into my palm.

“Mm,” I hum, picking up my wine to take a sip. Mainly to give my hands something to do so I don’t reach across the table and throttle him to death. “Well, considering I’ve only seen her a grand total of three times since I’ve been back from college, just saying might not be a winning move on your part.”

Preston grimaces, and then he leans forward, and here comes his damn hand again, reaching out to grasp the top of mine.

Why does he keep doing that?

He winks, and I imagine clawing his eyes from his face. “I’m on your side. Promise.”

Pressing my fingertips to my temple, I shake my head again. “Right. Of course you are. Would you excuse me? I need the ladies’ room.”

He nods and takes his hand back, watching me closely. “I’ll order us dessert.”

“Great,” I say flatly.

My stomach is reeling when I walk to the restrooms, trying to find the balance between being full of decorum, the way I’m supposed to be, and knowing that yet another person has taken what I say and shoved it into a box of “how cute, of course she’s saying this,” the same way that he always has.

I move into the single-stall restroom, walking to the sink and pressing the back of my hand to my mouth to hold in the scream.

My lungs feel like they’re being squeezed by fists commandeered by my mother, and maybe it’s because, deep down, I know this is the future they’ve always planned for me. Mapped out, airtight, and I’ve just been living in a carefully crafted delusion of my own making. Pretending that if I want what they want, if I perform well enough, it will start to feel like freedom.

I pull my phone from my purse and bypass Felicity’s text asking if I’ve cut off Preston’s dick yet, and bring up the group chat with my brothers.

The Calloway Kings (and Queen)

Me:

Can one of you come save me from this date?

Alex:

You’re on a date?

Me:

Yes. I’m at Dante’s, and I just need to leave. Come get me, PLEASE.

Paxton:

Just call the car.

Scoffing, I roll my eyes. Of course, Paxton would think it’s that easy. I can’t just call a car to take me away from the date that our parents put together. They pay the drivers.

Me:

Pax, what’s it like to be permanently lodged up Mom and Dad’s ass all the time? I can’t call the driver. I’m trying to make a grand escape.

Alex:

What’s in it for me?

Me:

I’m not above begging.

Alex:

And I’m not above bribing.

I chew on the corner of my lip.

Me:

…what do you want?

Alex:

Haven’t decided yet. Let’s make it an IOU. Give me twenty.

Sighing in relief, I slip my phone back into my clutch and look in the mirror, running a hand down the front of my cocktail dress.

I’m just about to walk out the door when it pushes back against me, and I gasp, the apology on my lips for almost running into someone.

But before I can say anything, Roman’s face fills my vision, his eyes stormy and his jaw set.

My jaw drops, and my stomach flips. “What are you⁠—?”

“Shut up,” he demands, walking into the restroom and flicking the lock back on the door behind him.

My heart thumps erratically in my chest as I gaze at him and then the door and then back again. “What are you doing here?”

He laughs humorlessly, his hands ripping through the roots of his hair. “Is he your man now? Are you with him, Juliette?”

“Is he my…?” My eyes widen, satisfaction curling like ribbons through me. “You’re jealous.”

He gives me a grin, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “Just wondering if you two were together when you were begging me to fuck you with my fingers.”

I cross my arms, my eyes narrowing. I’m not going to sit here and tell him what he wants to hear just to soothe that giant ego of his. If he wants to believe the worst about me, some preconceived notion like everyone else seems to have, then who am I to stop him?

But it hurts he’d think that of me at all.

And maybe it’s because I’m already on my last goddamn nerve, and maybe it’s because everyone and their brother seems to know everything about me based on assumptions and what other people tell them, but I’m tired of defending myself against something I didn’t even do.

I lift my chin. “Who I’m with is none of your business.”

He chuckles darkly, but it’s a humorless sound. He points at me. “Wrong answer, Little Rose. You are my fucking business. Do you want to know why?”

Swallowing harshly, I don’t reply.

“Because no matter how many times we say that we’re nothing to each other, I can’t get you out of my goddamn head.” He slams his hand against his chest. “Can’t get you out of here, either, so fuck me, I guess, right?”

I throw my hands in the air. “I don’t know what you want from me.”

“I want you!” he exclaims, his arms dropping helplessly to his sides. “I just want you.”

My heart free-falls at his words, and tears spring behind my eyes, the burn fierce as I try to keep them from falling.

“You’ve been the only genuine thing in my life since showing up to this fucked-up little town, the only thing that feels real, and now I don’t know if even that’s the truth.”

He takes a step closer to me, and I step back.

“I want to stop craving you with every breath.”

My stomach clenches.

Another step forward, and I take another one away, my back hitting the wall next to the hand dryer.

“I want you to tell me that he doesn’t get to touch you,” he murmurs, his blue eyes dark as they peruse my body, like he can burn away anything that isn’t him from my skin. “That nobody else gets to feel you the way I did. The way I’m still desperate to.”

My breathing becomes shallow, heat pooling between my legs, my heart pounding so fast in my chest I can’t take a full breath in.

His hand reaches out, ghosting down the side of my face, across my collarbone, then back up until he’s lightly cupping the front of my throat. “I want you to tell me to stop,” he murmurs.

I lick my lips, but no words come out. Desire courses through me, like static electricity shocking everywhere it touches. The connection that was missing with Preston is now exploding at the seams, like the room itself can’t contain it.

Roman leans down. “Every person in this town has warned me away from you. My own father just sat across from me and accused you of playing games with me. But they don’t know you, do they, Juliette?”

I let out a shaky breath. “No, they don’t.”

My hands tremble as I reach up and press them to his shoulders.

“You know me, Roman.”

His fingers tighten around my neck, his other hand skimming up my thigh, over the tight fabric of my dress, until it’s resting on my hip.

And then he pauses, like he’s waiting for something.

“He doesn’t get to touch me,” I whisper. My hands glide over his shoulders and wrap around the back of his neck. “Only you get to touch me.”

Before I can blink, he’s on me, pushing me up against the wall and flipping my dress up to my thighs.

He groans when he shoves my panties to the side and sees me bare before him, and I can barely take a breath before his mouth covers my pussy, his tongue dragging through my folds and circling my clit.

I slap a hand over my lips and bite down to keep from screaming out because the sensation is so intense, but somehow, I muffle my moans.

“Fuck, you taste just as good as I imagined.” He buries himself between my legs again, and the sight of him there on his knees while he licks me is enough to tighten my core and shoot me into the stratosphere.

My teeth dig so harshly into my hand I taste blood, but I can’t risk anyone hearing me. Not when his father and Preston are both right outside this door.

The thought makes heat flash through me, knowing he’s here fucking me with his tongue despite that.

“Is this pussy mine, Juliette?” he groans, his voice thick.

One of his fingers slips inside me and curls up, and my vision goes fuzzy.

“Tell me,” he demands, sliding in a second digit. “Say it. Right now.”

“Yes,” I whimper, my free hand going to the back of his head and physically forcing him against me again. “All yo—yours.”

His mouth closes around me while he starts gliding his fingers in and out, and he suctions his lips just enough to create a torturous pressure around my clit. It’s rhythmic and overwhelming, and I’m so close.

“Fuck,” I whisper, my gaze locked on how my fingers grip his hair and how his head is moving sensuously in between my thighs.

Tension coils around me like a snake and constricts.

“I want you to come on my face,” he says, and with a final lick of his tongue and pump of his hand, I’m gone, blasting into outer space and falling apart in his arms.

My legs shake around him, and he moans out his pleasure like he’s the one coming undone.

When I come back down, he’s sitting back on his heels with a filthy grin, my arousal coating his lips and making them shiny.

He leans in and presses a kiss to my pussy, and I clench, still sensitive. But he doesn’t back away.

Instead, he stands. His hands are already at his belt, his jaw tight, and his eyes wild.

My stomach flips and tightens, and then I’m reaching for him, my fingers fumbling with the button of his pants, and he doesn’t stop me. He just watches with that sharp, dark hunger that makes my insides feel like they’re liquefying.

His breath stutters when I get him free, wrapping my hand around his length.

His dick pulses in my palm, already leaking at the tip, and the sound he makes when I stroke him shoots straight between my legs.

I drop to my knees, and his hand flies to the back of my head, his other hand tilting my chin up so I’m looking straight into his eyes. “Goddamn. Look at you.”

My chest warms at his praise.

He releases my chin and fists the base of his shaft, dragging the tip across my lips. “Do you want my cock, baby?”

I nod, unable to actually speak the words, and then he jerks himself, tapping the head of himself against my mouth.

“Open those pretty little lips for me, Juliette.”

I do, and he slides in slow, dragging over my tongue as he groans like he’s losing his mind for me.

He’s thick, my mouth stretching around him until my jaw aches, and I can feel every single inch as he starts to move; shallow thrusts that feed me more of him until I’m full. His cock hits the back of my throat and I moan.

His eyes roll back like the sound physically pains him.

And the sight of him losing control like this? It fuels my hunger.

I move, my hands braced on his thighs as I suck him down, my tongue swiping along the vein that pulses up the underside of his shaft.

“Fuck, Juliette.” His hips roll, and when I tighten my throat, he throws his head back and moans, his fingers threading through the roots of my hair.

He jerks forward, and I take him even deeper, my mouth wet and messy, spit and pre-cum dripping down my chin, and when I swallow around him, he snaps, ripping away from me and surging up with a choked curse, grabbing me by the arms and hauling me up before spinning me around until his cock is hard and heavy between my thighs, and my hands are flat against the wall.

“I need to fuck you, baby.”

I press my ass into him, forcing his cock to slip inside me, just a little.

“Are you on birth control?” he asks, jerking forward so his tip presses against my clit.

My thighs tense around him.

“Yes,” I gasp out. “Please, just do it.”

He lines himself up, the head of him nudging my entrance.

“Tell me it’s mine,” he demands.

My core clenches, that fire flaring up my spine.

“It’s yours,” I agree. “Please⁠—”

He thrusts into me in one devastating stroke and buries himself to the hilt.

I cry out, my head falling back against his shoulder as my pussy clamps down around him, struggling from his girth. The stretch is intense, almost painful, but it’s so good I can’t think straight.

“You’re so tight,” he groans. “Don’t fight it, baby. Let me in.”

“I can take it,” I manage, my body shuddering as I push back, trying to push him deeper.

“Of course you can take it,” he replies, pulling all the way out, until just the swollen head of him is pressing at my entrance. His arm wraps around my waist, holding me in place as he works back in. “You were made for me, Juliette. This body, this cunt, your fucking soul; every inch of you is a perfect fit.”

He bottoms out on the last word, and I clench around him, my wetness dripping out of me and smearing down my thighs. He sets a relentless rhythm, his hips snapping against me repeatedly, his cock hitting every oversensitive nerve inside me.

One arm stays locked around my waist, pinning me to him, and his other hand finds my hair and fists it, yanking back just enough to make my spine arch and my mind go blank.

I gasp and he thrusts up into me.

“You feel that?” he rasps into my ear. “That’s what being mine feels like.”

I whimper, every part of me burning.

“You’re mine too,” I manage, my hips swirling back as I clench my pussy walls around him like a vise.

He chuckles, low and dark. “You don’t get it, do you?” He pulls out just enough to torture me. “I’ve always been yours. The moment I met you, I was ruined.”

The confession lands hard, cracking open the center of my chest.

He groans, his teeth sinking into the side of my throat.

I can’t speak. Can’t even breathe. All I can do is give in to the sensation, feel him stretch me open while his hand slides from my waist down to my clit, applying the perfect amount of pressure.

“Roman,” I gasp.

“Give it to me, Little Rose,” he murmurs, his voice sounding like it’s scraped over gravel. “Make a mess all over me.”

My orgasm crashes through me like lightning, my body locking up and my pussy spasming around him. I moan his name out like he’s the only thing I know, and I grind into his jerky thrusts, riding every wave.

“Come inside me,” I beg. “I want to walk back to him while you’re leaking out of me.”

He lets out a hoarse, broken groan, and then thrusts deep one last time, his dick jerking wildly as he spills.

We stay in place, the quiet feeling like cotton balls in my ears.

I’m trembling. Breathless. And his hands grip me like he never wants to let me go.

He slides out of me, thick and dripping, and I exhale heavily at the loss.

Roman doesn’t say a word. He just spins me around, releases me and then kneels between my legs. His eyes drop to the mess we made, and before I can gather my thoughts, his mouth is on me again.

I jerk, overstimulated and out of my mind, and he pins my hips with both hands, his tongue dragging through the mix of us with a slow and deliberate type of pressure.

He moans, and then presses a soft kiss to my clit before placing my underwear over it.

Then he looks up at me with a satisfied smirk.

“What do I taste like?” I ask, my chest heaving from how hard I’m trying to control my breath.

His grin darkens, and he stands up and leans in until our noses brush.

“Mine.”

A ragged whimper leaves me at his words and I rest my forehead against his chest. “You’re ridiculously possessive, you know?”

He hums.

Lifting up on my toes, I press my lips to his again, my heart flipping when I do.

This is right.

This is home.

This is everything.

He leans back and gives me a soft, sad smile, his thumb pressing into my bottom lip.

Heat spikes through my middle.

“I won’t make a scene,” he says. “But if he keeps touching you, I’ll find him once he leaves and break every single one of his fingers.”

I nod slowly, heat curling in my belly. “Damn you. I find that incredibly attractive.”

He smirks, leans down, and presses his lips to mine one more time, and then he’s gone.