I roll my eyes. “You don’t have to do anything.”
“Don’t I?” he mutters, thumbs brushing below my eyes. “I knew this would happen. This is exactly why I told everyone to pretend you didn’t exist. Some of the people here are fucking animals.”
I shrug, at a loss. Is it better to be kicked in the face than to be ignored for months on end? It’s a question that I honestly can’t answer. “If I find out who it is,” I promise, hands coming up to his wrists, “I’ll tell you.”
Hamilton nods, finally freeing me from the pin of his fierce stare to look at the bed. “It’s a double.” He then takes a broader look at the room. “Where are we?”
“Guest room. For visitors or prospective students. It’s hardly ever used, but it’s private, and yeah.” I gesture to the bed. “It has a double, so I figured...”
A wicked grin tugs at his lips. “Smart. Two floors away from your own room.”
We stand there for a moment, looking at each other, and it doesn’t take long for the air between us to start crackling again. Hamilton’s tongue peeks out to wet his lips and I unconsciously mimic him, hands landing on his broad chest.
“So.” I breathe, bunching the fabric of his shirt and pulling him to me.
“Yeah, just...” He pushes a slow, wet kiss to my mouth, whispering, “Tell me if it hurts.”
I nod, deepening the kiss when his deft fingers pluck at the buttons on my shirt, but it doesn’t hurt. It keeps not-hurting when he gets my shirt open, fingers grazing over the lace of my bra. I push at his shirt, eager to feel his skin against me. He yanks it off quickly, rewarding me with a shadowy view of his upper body. I reach out and touch the hard, muscular flesh, dragging my fingers down until I tangle them in the soft hair on his lower belly. Hamilton hisses, his belly caving. I can see his cock already pressing at the fabric of his pants. We move to the bed in unison, my shirt falling from my shoulders. He grabs at the flesh of my hip as he presses between my legs, rocking into me with another deep kiss.
There’s no pretense as he reaches back, pulling the condom out of his pocket and clutching it in his hand. He rears back to unbutton his pants, his heavy-lidded eyes dragging down my body as he shoves them down his thighs, kicking them away. I climb over his hips and straddle him, bending to kiss him on my terms, deep and consuming. When I pull back, the spark in his eyes tells me that he’s surprised but likes it. My control is fleeting, as he pushes his tongue in my mouth, dominating the kiss and leaving me panting. I grind against him, causing us both to exhale in frustrated bliss.
His hands slide up my legs, up to my hips, where he holds me in place. I feel him grow beneath me, nothing but the thin cotton of our underwear as a barrier, my own growing increasingly damp by the second. He struggles for a moment with my bra, this one clasping different.
His mouth stills against mine as he focuses on the task, huffing out a, “Fucking thing,” as he tugs.
I can’t help but laugh at his frustration. Hamilton Bates, stumped by a bra. He’s diligent though, finally conquering it and tossing it on the floor. I can’t even stand the way he looks at my breasts. It’s the same as last time—hungry, dark-eyed want—and the sound he makes when he slides his hands up to cup them in his warm palms is low and vaguely agonized.
He dips his head to clamp his mouth around my breast, tongue lathing over the peaked nipple. I tilt my head back and he toys with my other breast, making lazy circles. The feel of it is indescribable, something bone-deep and vulnerable in the very best way igniting across my skin, in the pit of my core. I can’t restrain my responding moan.
The next thing I know, I’m under him, and he’s impatiently tugging off my panties, his own shorts following suit.
His body is a wide expanse of pale, lean perfection, and I can see his abs quaking with his need, the staccato of his breaths shaky and shallow as he rubs two rough hands up my flesh. Gone is the gentleness that took my virginity, replaced by this feral, commanding mess of desire. I pant into his mouth, feeling the same as I had that first night—slightly unhinged and strangely powerful.
“Fuck, I’ve been thinking about this for days, Adams,” he grinds out, breath hot against my ear. “I need to be inside you.”
“Yeah. Yes.” I buck my hips against his, encouraging, impatient, wanting his body to completely cover mine, wanting to feel his weight, his strength.
He kisses me while he rolls on the condom, his two hands crammed into the space between our bodies, breaths loud in the silence of the room.
When he’s ready, my fingers thread in the hair on the back of his neck, tugging him forward. It feels like I can’t let him get too far away, like even the thought of him stopping makes something sharp and alarmed go off in my head.
His gray eyes hold mine as I wrap my legs around his waist, inviting him closer, urging him on. He takes himself in hand, pressing his cock into my wet folds as he watches me, and if he’s waiting for something, then I’m at a loss for what.
“Come on,” I pant, fingers scrabbling at his shoulders, body arching. “Fuck me.”
He enters me swiftly, filling me with one solid thrust.
I gasp, mouth agape, time standing still as he stretches me from the inside. Our eyes hold, something that feels far more intimate than his body invading my own. I slide my hand to touch his cheek, his lips, and I rock my hips. His eyes snap shut on a groan and he starts moving inside of me, our hips meeting in teasing, assessing thrusts, looking for our shared rhythm.
“Jesus, Adams.” He pulls back only to crash back into me, our hips meeting with a soft clap that has me digging crescents into the skin of his back. “Fuck, you feel so good. I shouldn’t have—” he bites down on his bottom lip, a wet, rough sou
nd growling in the back of his throat, “—we shouldn’t have waited.”
I pull his face to mine and lean to the side, breathing hot, and biting down on his ear. “Is this all you’ve got?”
He shudders with delight, breathing a laugh into my neck, and his next thrust—full of his body’s skill and power—nearly pushes me up the bed.
“Ah, God,” I gasp, scrabbling at his back. “Like that.”