Chapter 33
“So, tell us what happened when you left with Hamilton?” Natasha wanted all the details during our lunch date.
“He came to watch fireworks, got tossed off the boat, then drove him home,” I shrugged my shoulder. “He hasn’t stopped calling me since.”
Tiffany laughed, “Should I ask why he was tossed off the boat? Did your brother have another fit?”
I blushed. Unable to tell them the real reason, I just went along with what they just assumed.
“You know how Luca gets,” I smile as I look at my freshly painted nails. Pink really never went out of style for me.
Even though Emilio pushed him off the boat, Hamilton loved every moment. To be in the presence of Luca DeCarlo or any of his associates was the biggest flex aside from being the D.A.’s son.
“Okay, so he wants to see you again after that?” Natasha chimed in, “That’s a good sign!”
“Tash is right, B. I'm even impressed if Hamilton survived the first time meeting your brother and still wants to come around.”
I take a deep breath, “You’re both right. Maybe he’s worth looking into.”
But I didn’t want to look into Hamilton or anyone else. That would mean ending things with Emilio, and the thought of that upset me.
“Just one date,” Natasha encouraged.
Rolling my eyes, “Maybe.”
“Bethany,” I could sense Hamilton was smiling on the other end of the phone. “Finally, get a call back. I was starting to think the number you gave me was a prankster leading me on with text messages.”
“Sorry, I just have a lot going on.”
“Let me take you out,” Hamilton said. “Please don’t let me beg.”
I huff into the phone, “Fine. Tonight.”
“I’ll pick you up at 8 pm. Text me your address.”
Hamilton was prompt and was knocking on my door at exactly 8 pm. Opening the door, I find him dressed in a light grey suit, white shirt with nice dress shoes. The scent of expensive cologne lingered around him, giving him a more sophisticated demeanor.
“You smell nice,” I comment.
“Thank you. And you look gorgeous,” Hamilton smiled.
Wearing a cream-colored satin wide-legged jumpsuit with thin straps crossed in the back, I enter the hall.
Holding a thin jacket in one hand and a clutch in the other, Hamilton couldn’t hold my hand, so instead, he wrapped his arm around mine.
It put a slight smile on my face; no one had ever done that before.
“Are you practicing walking down the aisle?” I teased.
Hamilton blushed, “Girls usually like some kind of physical holding. I was trying to be a gentleman.”
We walked to his car, and he opened the passenger door to his Mercedes-Ben E 450 Cabriolet. It had a white exterior and black leather interior. Sitting in the passenger seat, I couldn’t help but notice it smelled like the car freshener black ice.
“So where are you wining and dining me?” I ask as he drives off.
“One of my favorite restaurants just outside Chicago.”
“Outside Chicago?”
“The best seafood restaurant, hands down.”
I was getting nervous about leaving Chicago. I needed to let my brother know, but I didn’t want to sound like a child who needed to call her parents for permission.
“Can’t wait,” I smile.
Just outside Chicago shouldn’t be bad, right? We arrived at the restaurant and were seated in a private dining area. The waitstaff was on top of everything, and the food was impeccable. To my surprise, the conversation flowed nicely; we had more in common than we thought.
“Doing theatre was one of the worst things my father forced me to do,” Hamilton recalls, “One year, my school put on a play of the opera Donizetti’s Lucia di Lammermoor. Somehow, I got cast as a lead when I barely did an impressionable audition, which I was late for.”
I laugh at the thought. “You managed to play basketball, be on the debate team, and play theatre? Impressive.”
“I think it was to keep me out of trouble.”
“Did it?” I asked.
“Hell no. Being a Branton, you kind of get to slide through life. I fully took advantage of that.”
We may be from different worlds, but our uptight upbringing was similar. “I got to give it to you, Hamilton. Not bad. I may have to come back to this restaurant without you.”
“Wow, using me for my good tastes?” Hamilton joked.
“Can I get you the dessert menu?” the waiter asked.
Hamilton shot me a look, the same one from the pool party.
“I think we’ll grab dessert at home,” I reply.
We barely reached my front door before we were on each other.
Taking off our clothes as we made our way to the bedroom.
I collapse onto the bed, pulling him down with me as our mouths never separate from one another.
Hamilton’s tongue rubbed against mine as our mouth-to-mouth contact intensified by the minute.
“Shit,” he pulled away, “Let me get a condom.”
Hamilton rushes to grab one and slides it on as I touch myself so I’m ready to receive him.
He seemed excited watching me do so. When ready, I sit up on the bed and slide my hands around his ass and pull him forward so that he’s standing between my legs.
Placing my lips onto his abdomen for a quick kiss, I slowly get to my feet, licking him to his neck until our mouths meet again.
We fall onto the bed with Hamilton on top of me.
His hands at my waist slide up and over my breasts while I wrap my legs around him.
Placing one of his hands onto the bed for support while the other positioned his erection at my entrance.
Slowly and gently, he enters inside of me, and I moan in response.
His strides were deep, and he kept a steady pace.
“Harder,” I encouraged.
Hamilton began thrusting with a bit more strength, but I needed more.
“Harder,” I said again.
And so he did, but it still wasn’t enough. I think he was being gentle for a reason. Maybe he wanted to uphold his good-boy image, but I knew the truth about him. He was a wild boy, and I wanted him to show it to me.
“Fuck me like you’ll never see me again.”
“Bethany –“
“Shut up and fuck me.”
Hamilton nodded. Getting onto his knees, he held my legs wide open as far as they could go and began to ram his hips forward repeatedly with solid force.
His momentum and stamina were staggering.
When he saw how much I loved every hard, forceful hit, he held my legs tighter and opened them wider, enjoying the moment just as I was.
Then he pulls a fast one on me as he throws my legs to the side and lifts me onto my hands and knees while still inside me.
Hamilton grabbed my hips and rammed into me, yanking me back to meet his thrusts.
Burying my face in the sheets, I scream in pleasure.
Harder and harder he goes, sending me into a wild orgasm.
After a few more pumps, his body goes rigid, and his grip tightens as he finishes.
We both go limp onto the bed and are completely knocked out.
By the time Hamilton woke up, I was showered and dressed, having coffee in the kitchen.
“No breakfast in bed?” he joked, buttoning his shirt.
I smile, “I’m not much of a cook.”
“When can we do this again?”
“Soon?,” I shrug.
“I didn’t make a good impression?” he asked.
“I didn’t say that.”
“So what are you saying?”
“I’m not saying anything.”
Squinting his eyes, “You don’t trust me.”
“I don’t know how to trust anyone.”
Walking over to me, he kissed my cheek. “Learn to trust your instincts. Then see what it has to say about me and follow that.”