He cuts me off with a hard, punishing kiss. So I bite him. It’s become our way.
Or maybe just my way.
There’s a definite possibility that I’m the fucked up one here. Not a surprise. I’m a Reid. It was just a matter of time for my defects to show.
“Not on your knees.” He rolls onto his back, pulling me with him for one more kiss before he wraps my hair around his fist and holds me in place as he props himself up against my pillows. I get my first look at his cock as he shifts me between his legs. Thick, long, blunt, and covered in the softest looking skin, even as it’s stretched tight. It lays to the left, against his hip, bobbing in the air a bit, giving me a clear look at his sac, too. I breathe in his scent, clean with a musky maleness that makes my mouth water.
He laughs, soft and slow, a quiet rumble. “What are you waiting for, an invitation?”
I giggle at the unexpected tease. This isn’t going as I expected at all. Intense one minute, funny the next.
“Just taking my time,” I breathe, turning my face toward his cock, now pointing right at my mouth. Perfect. I stick my tongue out and swipe at the bead of pre-come waiting for me, enjoying the way that makes him hiss.
Enjoying the taste of him on my tongue.
I want more.
I lick around the thick crown, savouring the taste of his velvety skin, before sliding my whole mouth over the head and bringing him deep. Well, deep-ish. He’s big and my mouth isn’t.
“More,” he growls, and then it turns out that there is in fact more, and I can in fact take it. He lifts his hips slowly, at the same time as he guides my head lower, his hand alternating between pressing at the back of my neck and stroking my hair.
It’s the stroking that does it, that unbearable softness. I need him hard and rough, and he knows that’s what I want. He knows I’m trying to fit him into a stereotype.
But this, the gentle touch and push and all of a sudden his cock is buried in my throat, and I’m struggling to breathe through my nose…this is what I need.
Cole drifts his free hand—the one not fisted in my hair, guiding me as I suck him off—over my cheek and down my neck, finding my swinging breasts. He groans again as he cups one of my boobs, and that simple touch topples the last of my defenses. I can try to orchestrate dirty sex with him, or we could just have dirty sex.
I pull back, pressing a sloppy wet kiss to the end of his cock as I rock back on my heels. “Condoms are in the top drawer.”
“Thank Christ,” he mutters, yanking one out. I watch as he rolls on protection, then crawl on top of him. He palms my ass as I reach between us and sink onto his length.
It takes three slow presses to take him fully, and by the time he’s deep inside, I’m halfway gone again. I tip forward, resting my hands on his shoulders, and his solid arms wrap around me, holding me there. He’s staring at my tits, which is good, because I don’t know how much eye contact I can take while I deal with the fact that nothing in the entire world has ever felt as good as Cole Parker filling me up.
He says my name, so quietly I almost don’t hear it. Almost. Not quite. And that’s when I realize…it’s too late. I’m not fucking Bad Cole. That asshole took a walk when we got naked, and the man inside me thinks I’m beautiful and loves the look of my breasts floating in front of his face when I ride him. He might not be a good man all the time, but there’s nothing but goodness here between us.
I coast on that realization for a minute, trying hard not to fight against it. Wanting to be okay with it. I say his name, and he grins up at me, but when I say it again, I think he gets that I’m on the edge of freaking out. He tightens his grip, as if to say I’ve got you, and despite all the mistrust outside of this space, I know he does.
He sticks out his tongue, long and brazen, and pulls one nipple into his mouth. Like a lightning bolt to my clit, the strong tug makes me grind against him and arch into his mouth.
“So pretty,” he mutters, replacing his tongue with his thumb as he moves to the other one. “Fucking tasty, and pretty, and I want you to come on me, Hailey. I want your little pussy to grab onto my cock and fucking milk it, you hear?”
“Uh huh.” It’s all I can manage, because his words are like magic fingers, working with his pulsing cock and his dangerous tongue to blow me apart.
“You need to come, beautiful. I’m going to start fucking you so hard. I’m going to bury myself deep, and blow my load inside you. But I can’t do that until you’ve gone over. I can’t do that until you’re good.”
“So close,” I pant, rolling my hips as I sink onto his shaft again. “I’m good. I promise. Just…harder. Do it harder.”
With a jerk, Cole tumbles us sideways, sliding our limbs together as he stretches out on top of me, pinning my hands over my head with one hand, pressing one of my knees up and away with the other, so he can do it harder.
He surges into me, stealing my breath. I roll my head back, overcome with sensation, and I barely notice him find my face with his until he’s right there.
And his eyes.
Oh my god.
“Don’t look at me like that,” I whisper.
“Too late.”
He slows his thrusts, dragging his thick cock through my folds like he’s dragging my heart through the jagged rocks that surround him. Falling for Cole Parker is the worst possible scenario. It can’t happen.
But he’s inside me. Deep.
And it already happened when I wasn’t looking.
I cry out, and he covers my mouth with his, a furious kiss as we come together. I swear I black out for a second as every bit of me spasms around every bit of him, and he jerks hard above me, driving his hips into me and holding them there.
There’s a moment, right after my vision returns, when Cole’s forehead is pressed against mine and I can still taste the sweet maleness of his tongue…I arch my back, and my nipples rub against his chest, and I’m totally ready to go again. For that second, it feels perfect and easy and…fucktastic.
And then reality crashes into me.
We didn’t just fuck. That wasn’t dirty—except it was. That was…more.
That was dangerous in a whole different way that I did not sign up for.
“Oh my god.” I say it out loud this time, because it’s all I’m capable of, and the silence is too much.
“Don’t freak out,” Cole mutters, his voice rough and dry. And laced with something suspiciously like humor.
“Are you laughing at me?” I cover my face, then realize that leaves my naked body sprawled across my bed. Fuck it. It’s my bed, and the light is pretty. I’m going to hide behind my hands and my hopefully golden skin—there’s a lot of it, maybe he’ll get distracted.
“This isn’t a big deal. I’m still the bad guy you hate.”
I sigh, and shift my hands enough to uncover my mouth. “I don’t really hate you. Not in here. In here, you’ve got a nice cock and a talented tongue.”
“Okay.” His voice has warmed up a bit, and the word rolls out easily.
I peek through my fingers as he shifts his weight, rolling off the bed to deal with the condom. I slam them shut again as he turns back, so I just feel him tuck back in next to me. “What does that mean, okay?”
“It means, go to sleep, beautiful. I’ll be gone in the morning.”
“Oh.” I don’t know if I like that.
“And maybe I’ll use that key to let myself back in from time to time. Middle of the night, secret-like.”
“Oh.” I think about that for a minute, then smile. “Okay.”
—eleven—
Cole
My phone rings at quarter to four. Jason’s ring tune. For the first time in three years, I’m tempted not to answer.
Good news for Jason, my sense of duty overrides everything else. Motherfucker.
“What?” I mutter quietly, rolling away from Hailey’s sweet warmth.
“We’ve got a major situation, all hands on deck.”
“If it’s a
Reid, I’m going to murder someone. If there’s anyone left to murder.”
He doesn’t answer right away. Shit.
“No, it’s not a Reid. But there’s a situation. Can you meet me at the home of Representative Brian Fletcher?”
My phone vibrates with the address. “Sure. I’ll be there in ten minutes.”
I tug on my undershirt, boxer briefs and dress pants. I holster my weapons, the Browning last. I stand there for a second, holding the weight of it in my hand. Fuck. So much for being a good guy in this room.
Reality has a way of settling in, and my reality is that rich people call when they’ve done bad things. And I’m extraordinarily good at getting them off the hook.
I pick up my dress shirt just as Hailey stirs. Her long brown hair glints with subtle gold highlights in the moonlight, and her soft, pale skin glows like an angel. I drop to my knees next to the bed.
“Go back to sleep. Work calls.”
“No…”
I laugh softly and lean in. “Here, I’ll take a picture of us, you can sleep with that.”
“K. Good deal.” She smiles sleepily for my phone and lets her eyes drift shut again as I text it to her. “You come back again sometime, ya hear?”
“I will. I’ll wake you up with my tongue next time.”
She makes a throaty sound that gets me half-hard and I press a quick kiss to her lips before I say anymore. I tuck my shirt into her arms and head for the living room. If Rep. Fletcher thinks I look more badass in a wifebeater and leather jacket, that’s only to my advantage.
Any asshole who wakes me up at four in the morning and drags me from the warmest, sweetest bed I’ve ever slept in had better have a good fucking reason, or there’ll be hell to pay.
—twelve—
Hailey
I’ve been upright for seven minutes, but I’m still waking up. I’m standing in my kitchen, wearing Cole’s shirt that he left behind, waiting for the coffee maker to fill my mug. I wandered through the living room on my way to caffeine and flicked on the morning news, but all I can hear right now is The Black Keys still strumming away in my bedroom from my alarm clock iPod dock.
I need to have a shower. I press my fingertips to my lips as I blush over the memory of how Cole talked to me last night. How I talked to him. The taunting and the teasing and the little snippets of sweet in between.
This is a disaster waiting to happen, I know that, but for the next little while, I’m going to enjoy being ravaged by the big, bad wolf. Or maybe he’s a tiger, with those amber eyes, flecked with gold. He’s definitely something, that’s for sure.
I take a long, slow sip of coffee as I sway my way into my room. I turn the music off and stand in front of my closet, drinking my coffee, thinking about what to wear.
Mostly thinking about Cole.
But when I hear his name, it’s not in my head.
It’s on the TV in the living room.
This is Washington. Cole could be on TV for any number of reasons. I put my coffee on my bedside table and shake off the remaining cobwebs as I look for the remote to rewind the new story.
My heart starts thumping painfully as I watch the double fast rewind on the screen. Cole in handcuffs…somewhere. My thumb slips on the play button, missing it, and I go too far.
My mouth falls open as the newscast begins. “Sad news for residents of Kentucky this morning as the wife of Representative Brian Fletcher was shot and killed in an apparent lover’s feud. Arrested without incident at the Fletcher home early this morning was her lover, Cole Parker. In an ironic twist of events, Mr. Parker first met Anabeth Fletcher when his crisis management firm was hired by her husband last year. The two struck up a friendship. Photographed together here at the National Gallery earlier this year…”
My Cole. Photos flashing on the screen aren’t unfamiliar to me, of course. He’s been with a lot of women, mostly casually non-relationships. Sometimes as a polite escort. He’s a good looking man, trusted by their husbands.
I sink to my knees. Oh my god. My chest hurts.
This is a mistake.
Surely this is a…
I flash over the last month. Cole’s sudden interest in me.
His surveillance of my apartment, totally unnecessary for my sister’s drama.
My conveniently public show of jealousy and his subsequent breakup with Penny.
Last night.
My stomach turns over.
He knows how much I hate the public scrutiny, how I’ve hidden from the spotlight of being a Dashford Reid. Fuck, I don’t even want to be a Reid, no matter how common a name it is.
And he did this to me anyway.
He slept with me, knowing…
I gag on that thought as my attention is dragged back to the TV.
“An autopsy will be performed later today to determine an exact time of death. Mr. Parker, seen here earlier in the day wearing a dress shirt the police are now searching for…” The words all run together again in a maddening buzz as I look down at the blue shirt I woke up to. That I rubbed my face in and wrapped around my naked body with a smile.
That’s when I really get it.
I’m his alibi.
TO BE CONTINUED
Hate Fuck: part two will come out soon! To get your hands on an Advance Review Copy, make sure you a part of Ainsley’s Angels on Facebook or subscribe to Ainsley’s newsletter.
—acknowledgments—
First of all, Sera Bright, for humoring me and understanding me and coaching me way more than she needed to as I blundered my way through writing in first person. Jules, Cher, and Nikki were also faithful first person cheerleaders. Thank you all for putting up with my grumping.
Elle Rush deserves all credit for the name of The Horus Group, and others in the TMI Room weighed in on the names for each of the guys—Kate, Amity, Melanie…thank you for helping to name Tag and Wilson.
Editing thanks to Rhonda Helms, the first person to read the entire thing from start to end, and flagged no less than a hundred things to make better. Be glad she did! Revision suggestions from Kate Willoughby, Annie Nicholas, Amity Lassiter, and Molly McLain were also much appreciated. Dana Waganer’s eagle eyes caught all the missing words, and the bonus u’s, and any that she missed can be blamed on Cole’s dirty mouth—so distracting.
A million thanks to all my Zoe fans for understanding that I wanted to take a break and try something different. Turns out that the cliffhanger was the biggest difference, so I’m sorry about that! But thank you (a million times thank you) for pointing out that Cole and Hailey’s love story isn’t that different from anything else that I’ve written…just a bit rockier, maybe. And the pussy-slapping…that’s new. Ahem.
(Wow, awkward segue…)
Final thanks go to my family. My husband, who just looks at my covers and tells to go get it. My kids, who have no idea what I write but think it’s cool that I write. And everyone else: my sister, my in-laws, my close friends… I love you all beyond measure because you don’t blink when I tell you that I’m writing a book called Hate Fuck. I have the coolest, bestest, craziest peeps ever.
~ Ainsley
www.ainsleybooth.com
—copyright—
All Rights Reserved
Copyright 2015 Ainsley Booth
Hate F*@k:Part One (The Horus Group #1) Page 8