He stopped kissing me and grabbed my wrist, pulling me away from his hard cock. I waited for him to say something, but instead, he flipped me on my back and straddled me. I looked up at his sharp expression, like a knife cutting through the tension. He grabbed both my wrists and pinned them to the mattress above my head. “You think we can just fuck each other out of our systems, Petal?” he asked, his voice a dangerous, low timbre.
“Isn’t that what you want?”
He leaned over and scraped his teeth along my collarbone. “Why do we have to be anything, hmm?”
“Because I could very well lose my only family if we cross this line.”
“So, what? You want me to fuck you and leave?”
“I want you to be worth it, Hamilton,” I whispered. He stalled and shot up to stare at me.
“You don’t think I’m worth it?” There it was. The crack. The break. The thing that kept Hamilton trying. That tragic need for approval from the people we cared about buried deep in our souls.
“I know you have the potential to be more than worth it, Hamilton. If we’re doing this, don’t half ass it. Don’t just make it some bullshit one-night stand where we both have fun, but it ends there. I want something real. Don’t catch a last-minute flight here to make sure I’m okay, then push me away. Don’t hurt me, Hamilton.”
He lifted the edge of my shirt up, pulling it over my head. I sank my teeth into my bottom lip while watching him take in the sight of me. Fuck. “I won’t half ass this,” he whispered before taking my heavy breast in his mouth and swirling his tongue around my nipple. I practically lifted off the bed. My body was completely fucking wrecked. Heat traveled through my limbs. Sticky wet need coated my thighs. He pulled away and gripped the band of my leggings. “This won’t be a one-night stand.”
He jerked my pants down, taking my pink thong with them. A rush of cold air flooded my exposed skin before he was there. Licking. Sucking. Tasting. I moaned and writhed on the bed. I cried out his name.
I came.
Hamilton wiped his lips with my inner thigh as little aftershocks rocked through me. He sat up. “This can be real, Petal. I won’t push you away.”
He undressed slowly. I watched his movements. I watched him dig in the pockets of his gray sweats and pull out a condom. Did he know it would lead to this? Did he know I ached for him?
He rolled on the rubber. He climbed on top of me. He spread my legs. I felt stripped bare as he positioned himself at my entrance and tugged on the loose strands of my hair. His hand clamped around my neck, then his body surged forward and impaled me with his cock. I stretched. I screamed. I slowly eased into the fullness that was Hamilton Fucking Beauregard.
“You’re so goddamn tight. You okay, Petal?”
I gripped his forearm with one hand and grabbed his hip with the other, urging him to move. I couldn’t tell him I was alright. I wasn’t exactly sure if I was.
Hamilton made me feel fucking dirty.
And I treasured it.
In and out. He pounded into me. I was a writhing puddle of need. Crashing. Falling.
Breaking. I was breaking.
Sweat clung to his brow. My nightlight, meant to illuminate my fears, cast shadows on his glistening skin.
We didn’t inch toward completion. No.
We raced to that finish line with our muscles spent, our bodies exploding from the tension. I came hard and raw and with everything I had.
Hamilton stared at me, his eyes wide with wonder as I fell apart. Thrusting. Thirsting. Fucking. Pumping. Something close to loving—but not quite.
He collapsed on top of me. Orgasms had the power to clear a person’s mind. I wasn’t thinking about the what ifs. I wasn’t worried about what people were going to say. I just felt him growing soft inside me. Breathing on top of me. Kissing my skin with wordless thank yous.
But my subconscious was whispering something. Something I wanted to ignore.
He never said he wouldn’t hurt you.
17
Hot breath feathered down my neck. Sweat dripped at my hairline. Warm limbs tangled up. Salty soft skin. Light snores. Bliss.
A hard knock on my door made my eyes shoot open. “Who the fuck is here?” Hamilton groaned. I was too exhausted. We spent all night twisted up in one another, working through this fatal attraction we shared. Even now, as I lay naked in my bed, with his dried cum between my thighs and a hickey on my neck, I craved him again.
“Ignore them,” I mumbled.
His hand was wrapped around my stomach, the tip of his fingers edging toward my pussy. He moved them lower—slower. The touch was slightly teasing but also calculative and full of promise.
Even in his sleepy state, Hamilton moved with intention.
The knocking continued. “For fuck’s sake,” Hamilton growled before pulling his hand back. No!
With one move, he shoved the warm duvet off of his side of the bed, and a rush of air fluttered over my skin. He sat up and rolled out of bed before stomping out of my room. It took me another moment to realize he was buck naked and headed toward my front door. I shot out of bed and grabbed some clothes just as Jared’s voice boomed. “What the fuck are you doing here?”
Shit. I wasn’t in the mood for a confrontation first thing in the morning, especially when I was so close to having yet another orgasm to start my day. Hamilton liked tossing out pleasure like it was candy on Halloween.
I tripped while putting on my sweatpants and ran toward my front door with my thin, oversized green shirt slipping off my shoulder and my wild brown hair bouncing with every step. “Can you just get the fuck out of here already? We were sleeping, man. Who comes over at nine a.m. on a Saturday?”
“Yeah. I can fucking see that you both were sleeping,” Jared growled. “How old are you even, bro? Thirty? Isn’t Vera a bit young for you? Or is that part of this whole kink?” I frowned when I saw them both in the entryway. Hamilton was as naked as the day he was born, not even bothering to cup his junk. Bruises in the shape of my lips covered his body. Scratches ran down his back. His glossy skin looked angry and red.
And his fists were clenched.
Jared was the complete opposite, with his freshly showered hair slicked back. His polo tucked into his khaki pants. He looked crisp and clean. “Vera,” he breathed out. Disappointment dripped from his tone. I forced a smile.
“Hamilton, why don’t you go get some clothes on?” I asked.
“Nah, I’m good,” he snapped. “Jared here was just asking me about my kinks. Should we tell him how you begged me to bend you over the edge of the mattress? I pounded your pussy until you nearly blacked out from your tenth orgasm, didn’t I, Petal?” He turned to Jared once more and sarcastically shrugged before placing his index finger to his plump lip. “I mean. Since you want to talk about my kinks, I like choking her, Jared. Do you know how to make a woman come when she’s on the brink of passing out? Do you know the right amount of pressure? Do you know how her creamy ass looks when it’s marked up with my handprint?” Hamilton was on a roll today. I guess he wanted to have a dick measuring contest. Fucking hell.
“Don’t disrespect her like that!” Jared yelled.
“Jared, it’s fine,” I said softly.
“It’s not fine, Vera. I just wanted to make sure you’re okay. I didn’t realize he was coming over. Or staying the night.” Jared shuffled on his feet. I had just realized he was holding something. “I got us bagels. Figured we could go to the park and decompress? The article was taken down.”