Page 4 of Burn With Me

A cry escapes my lips as he tosses me away from him like a rag doll. A toy he’s done playing with. All I can think of as I watch him walk out of my room and slam the door is how I can’t wait to graduate and get as far away from him as I fucking can.

Age 18

“A full ride?” My mouth drops in awe as Mr. and Mrs. Calloway beam at me from across the kitchen table.

“Of course, dear girl. And with Christopher starting med school, he’ll barely be home. It only makes sense that you two live together. No rent. We’ll still send a check every month to help out with utilities and groceries. You won’t have to worry about a thing,” Christine says with her full lips parted in a smile, her chestnut hair perfectly coiffed.

Panic grips me at the thought of living with Chris full-time with no one else around. Briefly, I wonder what wouldhappen if I open my mouth and tell the Calloways what their son has been doing to me all these years. But the thought of breaking Christine and Calvin’s hearts is too much. Their son iseverythingto them. He’s the perfect all-American football star I’ve never seen be aggressive toward anyone other than me. He’s always worn his mask well and fooled anyone he’s ever wanted.

Except me.

And if there is one thing I’ve learned from him that I’m thankful for, it's how to fool people into thinking you’re something you’re not.

So, I’ll put on a show for the Calloways, and I’ll make all three of them think I’m going along with their little plan. Part of me feels terrible for using their money, but I’ll get a good education. I’ll keep myself busy so I don’t even have to be home with Chris. Then, once I’ve graduated, I’ll get as far away as possible.

My eyes glitter, and my lips turn up in the best genuine smile I can feign. “That’s so generous of you guys. Thank you so much. I promise I won’t let you down.”

Jackson

“Suckharder.”

Fuck. What does a guy have to do to get a woman in this city to suck his cock like she’s a fucking Hoover vacuum?

The woman on her knees, I don’t even remember her name, looks up at me with annoyance painted on her overly dressed up face. It makes me smirk as I slap her cheek lightly. “What’s wrong, sweetheart? Thought you were gonna get fucked slow and sweet and that I’d let you stay the night?”

She pulls back off my cock and wipes at her mouth roughly as she gets to her feet. “You’re a fucking asshole.”

“Not news. Andyousigned an NDA, so if a word of this gets out, I’ll make sure you’re doing this as a job for the rest of your life. And youwon’tbe getting paid.” My phone vibrates on the coffee table in front of me, and I tuck myself back into my slacks before leaning forward to grab it.

The woman makes a high-pitched huffing noise as she gathers her stuff and makes her way across the hardwood floor of my living room. “It isn’t news that you’re an arrogant playboy, but I didn’t think you were the type to leave a woman unsatisfied.”

She’s baiting me, and I’m not stupid enough to open mymouth and bite the hook she’s dangling like she’s trying to catch a big, fat, billion-dollar fish. Ignoring her, I open my phone and groan when I see it’s a text from my uncle.

The meeting tonight isn’t optional.

There’s adingthat signals the elevator has taken the desperate female out of my penthouse, and I glance behind me to make sure she’s actually gone before letting my head fall back on the couch. Part of me feels slightly bad about how I treated her. But every woman I’ve brought home lately is the fucking same. They pretend like they know what they’re doing and then try to act demure, as if somehow going slow and acting shy is going to do the trick for me.

Slow and shy has never been my thing. I don’t want an inexperienced virgin, or a woman pretending to be one. I want a woman to ride my dick like she’s trying to split herself in half with it. Hard, raw, and primal is what gets me going. Graze my cock with your teeth. Tell me to fuck you harder. My idea of a good time is breaking a fucking bed frame.

And sure, there have been plenty of women who have left me satisfied sexually, but they don’t keep my interest beyond that. They think that alone earns them a right to be on my arm. A right to the title ofgirlfriend, eventually leading tofiancée, thenwife.

Men in my position shouldn’t have wives. Or girlfriends, for that matter. It always ends messy. So why even bother? Love doesn’t exist for men like me—men of power with billions at their fingertips and the world at their feet. We’re greedy bastards, and one woman will never be enough.

If that were really true, you wouldn’t feel the way you do, you lonely prick.

Regardless, this life has grown dull. I’m bored with the same routine over and over. No one ever saysno. No one everchallengesme.

My phone buzzes again.

In fact, I want you there early.

Checking my watch, I realize that if I’m gonna be early, I need to leave now. I don’t even know what this stupid meeting my uncle wants me at is about. Or why it has to be at some restaurant he partially owns instead of at the office where they usually are.

“Fucking stupid. Like I don’t have better things to do on a Friday night.” Standing, I pull my shirt over my head and head upstairs to my bedroom. The intense floral perfume of the woman is clinging to my skin, and I need to wash it away if I plan on bringing someone else home tonight.

The word Decadence beams down at me in neon cursive as Robert pulls my black town car up to the curb. I’ve never been here, or even heard my uncle talk about it, but as soon as I step through the doors, I can see why he insisted on meeting here.

It’s dimly lit, but I’ve always thought that makes a woman more attractive. And attractive is definitely the word I’d use to describe the waitresses.

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