Hate F*@k: The Complete Story

by Ainsley Booth

  “I didn’t ask you to make love to me,” I hiss back, shoving against his chest. Since when do we call it that? “I asked you to fuck me.”

  He twists to the side, stunned at my anger. I’m a little surprised at myself. “Hey,” he protests, reaching for me, but I shove his hands above his head and climb on top of him, centering his cock right where I want it.

  “I want this,” I insist, sliding onto him. And oh God, he feels so good inside me. That first breach makes me wide-eyed and breathless, and greedy for more. But it’s raw, too, how he stretches and fills me from the inside out, and I feel tears welling.

  Oh shit.

  He jackknifes up, wrapping his arms around me, pulling us hard together. Holding me tight. And the panic recedes.

  “How did you know?” I whisper, rocking my hips, desperate to get that sexy-as-fuck edge back. Despite my momentary freakout, Cole is still rock hard, and now he’s moving us, like the waves of the ocean.

  “I’ve been through trauma before, baby,” he rasps as he flexes his cock inside me. “It’s messy and confusing and surprising. But that’s okay. You’re strong.” His arms tighten around me. “I’ve got you. Let me love you.”

  I feel like an idiot for not seeing his restraint—how he held himself back this past week—as loving. I kiss him, desperate to show him I get it now.

  And he’s still hard. And still moving, ever so slowly inside me.

  A new understanding dawns on me as my desire rises again.

  Still on the surface, we cling to each other, me straddling him, his arms around me like bands of steel.

  But inside our embrace, under the surface…the pull is intense. One-of-a-kind chemistry. The magic that happens on my skin everywhere his mouth and hands touch me. The tight slide and thrust of his erection inside me. Shallow movements that rub just the right spot.

  And if he’s the dark water, rushing in toward shore, I’m the tide. I rise on my knees, as much as he lets me as he pins me in place, holding my gaze. But I need this. I need to be in charge, even though I’m not great at it.

  Even though I need to be held while I’m pretending to take him.

  But maybe that’s okay. Maybe I just need to be the force that compels him.

  I stroke his face, and he relaxes, skating his hands down my back to cup my bottom—his big hands covering my ass cheeks, his fingers curling into the cleft between them. And then I remember.

  “Oh,” I say, a breathy sound that’s even loaded to my own ears. I lift more on the next rise, almost slipping him entirely out of my body before sinking down.

  He grunts and grips my hips tighter. “What?”

  “I, hum…” I lean forward and bite his lower lip. “I put out the lube. You know, if you wanted to…”

  His eyes darken as he drifts his fingers over the smooth skin around my puckered hole, making me feel beautiful and dirty and desirable all at the same time. “I always want.”

  As if there was any doubt, he swells inside me and I cry out, riding faster even as it gets harder to lift myself fully off his erection.

  “Feel that?” he grinds out the question as he drives deep inside me, making me scream for him. “That’s how much I want to own your ass. But not today. Not when you need to be in charge.”

  A half-laugh, half-moan rips from my throat as I throw my head back, giving myself over to the dark wave rolling toward me—the heavy, unstoppable, erotic force that is Cole Parker.

  “I’m not in charge,” I pant, my voice reedy and faint, and he grips my hips tighter as he moves me, changing the angle at the same time as he latches on to a nipple.

  Kinda proving my point, I think groggily as I fall blissfully into an orgasm that ripples through my entire being.

  He keeps rocking us together, stretching out my pleasure until I grip his biceps in a voiceless plea—enough. He stops, immediately, which kind of proves his point, and then he falls back, pulling me up his torso before sliding me onto my tummy.

  A dark thrill races through me as he mounts me from behind, but he doesn’t enter me again, he just jerks himself against my ass—and damn, but that’s hotter than I’d ever have imagined.

  With his free hand, he smooths over the bare skin in front of him, making me wet and achey all over again. “In time, beautiful. When this is all behind us. I’m going to fuck your ass and you’re going to love it.” He falls forward, bracing that hand beside my face, his breath coming hard and fast as he gets closer. His next words make me gasp, the rough delivery somehow perfect for the sweet secret. “It’ll be my first time. You’ll have to be gentle with me.”

  I’m still reeling as he comes on my back, his wet shaft slapping against my ass as he loses control at the end, and hot tears prick behind my eyelids.

  After he cleans me up, he rolls me into his chest, and he gives me a look that says, go on, ask.

  “That’s true? You haven’t done that with anyone else?”

  “Yeah.” He gives me almost a sheepish smile. “Still think of me as a bad boy?”

  I laugh weakly. “I gotta say, I’m surprised.”

  “It’s just never…” He trails off, shrugging.

  I squeeze him tight. “You’re right. It should be special, then.”

  I meant it genuinely, but this is such an absurd conversation, it sounds like I’m making fun a little, and maybe that’s a good thing, because Cole’s eyes are twinkling.

  “You haven’t either,” he says drily.

  “I know,” I whisper. “But everything about you feels like firsts for me.”

  He rolls on top of me, his face all serious and his brows drawn. “I could say the same thing. Maybe I should have. I’m not very good at this sharing stuff.”

  “What? No, that’s not…it’s fine.”

  “Don’t,” he says harshly. “Don’t excuse me. I owe it to you to share more.”

  I frown. “What?”

  He shakes his head and strokes my hair, weaving his fingers into the loose strands. “Nothing.”

  I’m learning not to push him when he says that. He’s been more than I ever expected. I can wait for him to open up in his own time.

  So I change the subject. “Are you going to tell me what was on your mind when you came home?”

  He looks at me, then slowly tucks a loose lock of hair behind my ear. “You weren’t supposed to notice that I had anything on my mind.”

  I prop myself up on his chest, my hands under my chin. “So much for sharing more.” He gives me a pained expression and I raise my eyebrows. “Or are you all talk, no walk? What are you doing at work this week?”

  “Nothing I want you thinking about.”

  “Argh!” I poke him with my chin as I settle closer again. It doesn’t really upset me that he doesn’t want to share, but I can’t stop digging. “You think the case against Lively will fall apart?”

  “No…” he trails off and brushes my forehead with his lips, taking his time before adding more. “We suspect he’ll end up with a deal.”

  “Can I do something to prevent that from happening?”

  “We’re monitoring the situation for now. Collecting information, just in case. Nothing to worry about.”

  We talk for a few more minutes, then climb out of bed when his stomach growls.

  That night I don’t cry.

  But when I wake up sometime after midnight, I’m alone again. I curl myself around Cole’s pillow and fight against the rising panic.

  He’ll be back when I wake up.

  —seven—

  Cole

  Over breakfast the next morning, Hailey informs me she’s going shopping. “I assume you’ll want me to take a bodyguard with me?” she asks, archly.

  I laugh as I look at her over my coffee cup. “Too much of a princess move?”

  She sighs. “No. Not if it’s smart. Can it be Wilson?”

  “Haven’t you tortured him enough with the knitting lessons?”

  “Why would shopping be torture?”

  �
�Wilson doesn’t like crowds,” I say softly, and her lips curl into a silent “o”.

  “Okay, one of the hired goons is fine.”

  “Maybe don’t call him a goon. His name is Scott.” She sticks her tongue out at me. “Put that away before I put it to good use.”

  I’m teasing her, and she’s being snarky, but there’s an edge to the conversation, like she’s running scared from the stuff that came up during sex the night before.

  When she gets up to put her cup in the sink, I follow her, pinning her against the counter, my tan hands bracing next to her paler, creamier fingers on the counter.

  “You have to go to work,” she whispers, biting her lip to keep from smiling as she glances back at me over her shoulder.

  I was a fool to hold back this week. My girl doesn’t want soft and sweet.

  Her hair is loose—long, honey-brown waves with expensive highlights, still damp from her shower. Fucking gorgeous.

  “What are you thinking?” she asks, twisting to catch my eyes.

  “How good your hair looks wrapped around my fist,” I admit, gathering the strands in a loose ponytail. She smiles as she closes her eyes, and I decide work can wait.

  Tugging her head to the side, I lower my face to the creamy skin of her shoulder and breathe her in, running my nose up her neck to the spot behind her ear.

  I slide my hand up her front, pressing the hard length of my body into her back as I squeeze her breast. “I will never get enough of you.”

  I taste her, kissing her neck with an open mouth, soft at first, then harder. I bite my way down her neck again, to where the tendon flexes, and I suck there, using my tongue to savor every last inch of her.

  My hands roam higher, tugging at her neckline. I rub my thumb along her collarbone, then cover her throat, pulling her mouth to meet mine for an urgent kiss before I move back to her neck.

  “Think of this all day today. Think of how hard I get just breathing you in. Tasting your skin.” I yank her hair harder and she gasps and smiles and all is fucking right with the world. I cup her cheek with my other hand and rub my thumb along the edge of her lower lip. Her skin’s silky soft and she looks at me, her green eyes wide. “Tell me you feel the same.”

  “You know I do.”

  “I want to hear it.”

  She slides her hand between us and cups my throbbing dick. “I’m always ready for you.” She licks her lips and closes her eyes, tipping her head back against my shoulder. I brush my mouth against her cheek, nuzzling her. Willing her to continue. “Wet. I want you to think of me, aching for your fingers.”

  Her voice is barely above a whisper, and her breathing is coming hard and fast now. Like I want to, all over her.

  “I will,” I growl in her ear. “We’re both going to hum with that need, Hailey. And at the first available opportunity, I’m going to fuck you, and you’ll be so primed, you’re going to come as soon as I drag my big cock through that gorgeous fucking wetness. I’m going to spank your pretty little clit and you’re going to scream for me.”

  “Umphf—” I cut her off as I suck her tongue into my mouth, twisting around her body now like we’re one. Kissing her like it’s better than breathing.

  And I have to fucking go to work.

  Breaking off the kiss that I can feel tingling across my scalp and down my spine is a fucking Herculean task. I want a gold medal for keeping my pants zipped.

  “More…” she whispers against my lips, and I want to give her the moon. And a thousand orgasms.

  “Later. Soon. It’ll be worth it.”

  She thumps me weakly in the chest as she licks her lips. “Hey…I wanted to ask you…”

  I reluctantly wipe my mouth and gesture for her to continue with my other hand.

  She winces, but keeps her eyes on mine. “Where did you go last night?”

  Shit. “You were asleep, and something came up. I wasn’t gone for long, and you were asleep when I got back.”

  “You keep doing that. You did it in Miami, too.”

  I exhale roughly. I don’t know what to say. “I’m sorry. You should have called. I wasn’t far away.”

  Wilson had called and told me he had something, and I’d asked him to come to me instead of me going in to the office. When he picked me up at Hailey’s, we circled the block while he told me that Clara Forrester bought a plane ticket last night. It’s not for two more weeks, and it’s return, but…it’s still concerning. We have a guard on her now. That will be hard to maintain in Europe, where Lively has a stronger network than he has here in the States, and that’s saying something.

  Even from a Florida jail cell, he can make people disappear.

  We spent more than an hour arguing over the best course of action.

  “Would you believe me if I told you I was with Wilson, convincing him not to kidnap someone?”

  With a groan, she crosses her arms. “Sadly, yes.“

  “It wasn’t a serious plan.”

  “I can’t even imagine.” She tips her head to the side, her lips pursed and her eyes soft and sad.

  “I do a lot of things in the dark of night, beautiful. Most of the time, I’d rather you not know about it.”

  “You need to stop thinking I’m a heavy sleeper. Just leave me a note or something.”

  Jesus, I’m a bonehead sometimes. “Yeah.”

  “Is this about me?”

  I can’t lie to her, not even by omission. “It’s another woman that could testify against Lively. She’s running scared.”

  Hailey’s mouth curls into a sad frown. “I know something about that.”

  How much I wish that weren’t true.

  She takes a deep breath. “If there’s anything I can do…”

  I pull her in for a kiss, then press my forehead hard against hers. “I hope to God I never take you up on that. You be nice to Scott today, and if you ditch him, I’ll paddle you.”

  She licks her lips, and I reach around to smack her ass.

  “I take that back. If you ditch him, no paddlings for a year.”

  — —

  My right leg won’t stop shaking.

  I grip my knee tightly and press down.

  I don’t like leaving Washington, not even for the day, and depending on what happens today, it might be overnight or longer.

  It takes thirty seconds for my phone to light up with a text message response from Hailey. Thirty seconds for the tightness in my chest to ease.

  H: Nope, not having any fun at all. Scott hates knitting. Who doesn’t like a yarn store? Madness.

  I laugh under my breath.

  C: Sorry I need to go to New York. I’ll be back tomorrow. Can’t wait to see your yarn.

  H: That’s just cause you want to tie me up in it, right?

  C: Damn straight.

  My cock thickens at the thought of strapping Hailey down. Not with yarn. But maybe velcro cuffs, and I’d loop her yarn through the loops—some of that rainbow-hued hippy stuff she has in the basket in her living room, bright bursts of red and yellow and pink stringing between her wrists and her headboard, holding her in place for me.

  I’d take my time. Get her warm before putting the cuffs on. Let her get used to the feel of them on her wrists as I lick her pussy. Then I’d weave the wool through the loops, all lazy-like, letting the soft ball of it roll around on her tummy as I tug lengths out for my filthy purposes.

  The driver’s door opens, breaking me out of my fantasy, and Tag gets in. He hands me a bottle of Dr. Pepper and sets his own drink in the cup holder in the console of his SUV. We’re at a truck stop halfway to New York.

  Clara Forrester changed her flight to the next day, and Jason got a heads up from a friend in Miami that the Feds were going to stop her from leaving the country.

  Excellent idea. Piss poor execution. I can’t think of a faster way to make her an uncooperative witness.

  “Has Jason talked to you yet about who we’re going to bill all these hours to?” Tag asks me as he merges onto the fr
eeway.

  “There are more important things in life than billable hours.”

  He shrugs. “Don’t have to tell me that. I’m used to living on a cop salary. We could do this pro bono for all I care.”

  “Maybe we should.” I mean, we already were. It’s not like I was going to bill Hailey for any of this. She didn’t ask us to dig into Lively. We started doing that for PRISM, the shadowy extra-governmental organization that only concerned itself with geopolitical issues of the highest order. But right now, if they asked us to back off, I’d tell them to go fuck themselves.

  Which would be colossally stupid, and probably mean I’d be out of a job, at best, and living with a price on my head at worst.

  In my world, we always assume worst case scenarios are the only scenarios.

  Tag must be reading my mind. “Is there a way to do that and keep the overlords happy?”

  I shrug. Fuck if I know.

  “You want to be a gladiator or something?” He snorts. “There aren’t any real heroes in this world. The good guys just get trampled.”

  “I know.” I squint through my sunglasses, not liking where this conversation is going. I don’t want a reminder that it’s just a matter of time before I do something Hailey won’t be able to stomach. “Gladiators are just puppets, anyway.”

  “What?”

  Now it’s my turn to snort. “Read a fucking history book, man. They look it, all dressed up and sent into the arena for battle. But the stage was set by those in the shadows. Those with the real power. The fights were rigged.”

  “You’re fucking kidding me. Like professional wrestling?”

  Laughter thunders out of me. “Yeah. Something like that.”

  “Got it. No gladiators. Arena masters?”

  “Nah.” I peel the label off my drink and watch the bubbles bounce against the inside of the plastic. “We gotta think bigger than that. Go back a step. Trojan horse type of thing, maybe.”

  “Now you’re talking in riddles.”

  “Yeah.” I rock my jaw from side to side. There’s something there, in the back of my mind, but I can’t grab onto it. Not yet. But it’ll come to me. I close my eyes. “Wake me up when we get to New York.”