The Hating Season

by Linde, K. A.

  Then he gripped my hips as he aligned his cock with my opening. I tensed just a moment, but he laid a hand along the small of my back. And everything released again. With no warning, he thrust deep into me.

  I gasped as he hit into me as hard and fast as he could. No coaxing, just his cock deep into my pussy. If I wasn’t so warmed up from him going down on me, he definitely would have stretched me past the point of pleasure. Instead, he filled me up, almost to bursting, and still, I pushed my ass harder against him, desperate for more.

  “Like that?” he asked and then pulled back and slammed back down onto me.

  “Oh god,” I cried out. “Court, please…”

  “Harder?”

  I whimpered as he did it without waiting for my answer. I wanted it just like this. I wanted it punishing. I wanted him to impale me until there was nothing left of me but that point in my body where he drove into me. I wanted to forget why I was mad. Forget everything.

  He grunted once behind me. His fingers dug deep into my hips as he pinned me to the couch with his cock. The only sound was our bodies smacking together. A thin layer of sweat beaded my skin. And though tears tinted my lashes, I didn’t know if it was the pain of him fucking me as hard and fast as animals…or the release of all the emotions from the last week.

  But it didn’t matter. Another orgasm gradually began to build in my core. I couldn’t believe it came on slowly, considering he fucked me relentlessly. Taking out his anger on me as much as I was taking it out on him. Maybe we were both using each other. I couldn’t even think of the implications of that.

  “Close…close,” I got out.

  “Me too,” he cried.

  I dug into the couch cushion and screamed into it as he drove deeper and deeper, rocking my body forward with each thrust. And then it hit me. Like a tidal wave, dragging me under through the current and battering my limp body around with the force of the momentum.

  My climax triggered his. He drove into me one more time and then cried out. I could feel his release inside of me, and then everything began to go fuzzy at the edges. As if I was close to a blackout at any moment.

  After a minute of heavy breathing, Court gently pulled out of me and walked to the bathroom. Look at him, being gentle now that he was done punishing my body with his cock.

  I sat up. My head felt heavy as I dragged on my underwear and plopped onto the couch we had just defiled. I closed my eyes, wondering if I was about to pass out when it clicked, what we had just done.

  I’d fucked my client.

  Or…he had fucked me.

  I’d asked him to fuck me.

  My eyes flew open in a panic. I had… I had rules. This wasn’t supposed to happen! I’d wanted it to happen. I’d wanted to forget about Josh and what he’d done to me. And Court Kensington was hot, my type, and all too willing. But I still shouldn’t have broken my number one rule. Not for him. Not for anyone.

  I scrambled back into my dress and reached for my purse when he came back out of the bathroom, completely nude.

  His brows furrowed. “You’re dressed.”

  “Yes. Well, I have to go home.”

  “You don’t have to rush out of here. You can stay the night. I’m not a dick.”

  I laughed once, sharp and unforgiving. “No, you misunderstand me. This is never happening again.”

  “English…wait…”

  “You’re a client. I don’t get involved with clients.”

  “What the fuck do you think just happened?”

  I shrugged one shoulder, compartmentalizing everything, like I had my entire life. “A mistake.”

  Then before I could see his wounded expression, I turned and walked out of his apartment. I wondered who exactly I was trying to convince. Because it certainly hadn’t felt like a mistake to me.

  Part II

  Turn the Tables

  7

  English

  I needed to tell someone.

  But I couldn’t tell anyone.

  Not even Lark. Not even Whitley or Katherine. No one could know about this. No one could find out what Court and I had done.

  I’d most certainly lose my job as his publicist. And I’d fucking deserve it. But where I was with the press, it would be a field day. Fuck, I could not even imagine what would happen if it was leaked. My brain hurt too much to consider it.

  I spent the next day cooped up in my apartment, ignoring my phone. The primary was about a week away. I needed to get on top of things. Figure out what Court could be doing to better his reputation and help his mother win the nomination. But I couldn’t bring myself to focus on it.

  I needed to snap out of this really fucking quick or else… I wouldn’t have a job regardless.

  The middle of the second day, I finally dragged myself out of bed and got myself together. I could do this. I could get Court a schedule. I could go to his place and see him and act just like we’d been acting toward each other for the last three months.

  Yep, I could do it.

  After I finished blow-drying my hair and pulling clothes over all the little bruises Court had given me, I reached for my phone to text Court and let him know I was coming over. But there was already a text on the screen. A text from Josh.

  So, this is how you repay me?

  I furrowed my brow and opened the link.

  “Motherfucker!” I cried.

  The picture of me and Court that bastard photographer Jeremiah had taken was in the fucking tabloids. I was in that ridiculously sexy pink dress. I’d just grabbed him to pull him into the cab. But the angle was perfect. It looked like I was hanging on his arm. As if I were his arm candy. My eyes were wide with alarm, as if we’d been caught. The headline read, Josh Hutch’s Wife Already Moving on with Mayor’s Son?

  I didn’t even have a name in the headline. Motherfucking fucker.

  “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” I groaned.

  I texted Winnie to ask her to look into who had the originals of this and how far it had gone. She knew enough people to see if we could have it retracted or clarified. I knew what I needed to do. I needed to track down that photographer and break his fucking legs. You did not go back on a deal with me.

  After I took a deep breath, I decided that I would have to do immediate damage control with this. Which meant I’d have to give them something. It only took ten minutes after Winnie sent me the editor’s details before I was on the phone with the woman, Mandy, who had written the article. Fucking bloodsucking journalist.

  “Mrs. Hutch, what a surprise,” Mandy, said.

  “I’ll give you an exclusive if you take it down and print a retraction.”

  “Right to business, I see.”

  “You and only you. Take it down. Print a retraction, and you get a half hour with me in New York City. I’ll tell you my side.”

  “I don’t see why I should print a retraction when you were obviously together.”

  “A half hour,” I repeated, firm and unyielding.

  She huffed. As if she had been waiting to catch me in an explanation. I had no intention of giving her something that she could twist.

  “An hour,” she demanded.

  “Fine. Take it down now. Write up your retraction within the hour, and you have a deal.”

  “Done. Nice doing business with you, Mrs. Hutch.”

  “And for the record, Mandy, it’s English.”

  Then I hung up on the bitch and flopped back onto my bed. Never mind. I wasn’t going anywhere near Court Kensington until this was taken care of. His mother would kill me if she thought that any of what had been written was true. She almost hadn’t hired me because I was pretty. She’d worried I was Court’s type and that he’d charm me. Fuck everything for her being right.

  I was going to have to tell Leslie. That was the only way to make this blow over. She couldn’t hear it from the tabloids. I immediately texted the mayor’s assistant to make the appointment.

  And all this time… Josh texted me and called me and left voicemails.
<
br />   On the fifth call, I picked up the phone.

  “What do you want?” I demanded in frustration. “I’m trying to work here.”

  “Finally, you answered,” Josh said on a sigh.

  “Yes, but I don’t want to talk to you. I already told you all I had to say.”

  “So, you call me to tell me you want a divorce and then get back at me by sleeping with someone else and expect me not to want to talk to you?”

  “I really don’t care, Josh.”

  “So, you did sleep with him.”

  I breathed out through my nose. I was not going to talk to my husband about this. He had no reason to know that I’d slept with Court. I had no intention of discussing the best night of sex in my life with him.

  “He’s a client,” I bit out.

  “Yeah, well, you wouldn’t be the first publicist to sleep with a client.”

  “I have rules, Josh.”

  “Never stopped anyone else.”

  “Thanks for reminding me that you fucked Celeste. This conversation is over. I have more important things to deal with today.”

  “Look, I get it. You found out about me and Celeste. You were mad. I know how you are, English. Your temper runs hot as fire. It ignites like an explosion and ricochets in every direction. You were mad at me and then did something drastic to get back at me. I don’t blame you.”

  I did have a hot temper. I’d gotten it from my dad. Unfortunately. But I didn’t want to let him know he was right.

  “Josh, he is a client.”

  “I don’t believe that you didn’t sleep with him, English. I know you too well.”

  “Well, I’d love to listen to your guilty conscience all day, but I have things to do.”

  “Let’s just move past this. You got back at me for Celeste. And now, we’re even. You got it out of your system. So, now, we can move on.”

  “Move on?” I asked, cold and hard. “You fucked your costar behind my back. The only thing I’m moving on from is you.”

  Then I hung up the phone and fell back onto my bed again. I’d have to get up in a few minutes to prepare for my meeting with the mayor, but right now, I needed the time to wallow. Because as mad as I was with Josh, I still loved him. Or at least the man he’d been and the relationship we’d had. I was going to need more time to grieve this before I could think of being okay.

  * * *

  My meeting with the mayor went about as well as expected. She worried that my breakup with Josh would hurt the campaign. Lark had reassured her that it wouldn’t. But I wasn’t so sure. I’d told her that I was fine and still on my game, but I knew that I wasn’t. I needed more time. And we didn’t have time.

  At least the meeting had been productive, and I’d figured out the next steps with her regarding Court’s publicity, going into the primary. Which meant I had a list of events he could attend and the one mandatory victory party. From what I’d grasped, his mom didn’t want the reminder of his arrest at the primary events. So, it might even be better for him not to attend. And just to keep him out of trouble until the party.

  I steeled myself and texted Court. It was the first communication we’d had since I left his apartment.

  Here’s the list of events your mother is attending. She wants you to keep your head down and try not to get any more media attention. But she would like you at the victory party. If you haven’t seen the tabloids, our picture from that pap was in it. I’m handling it.

  I sent it off with the list from his mom and then headed back uptown to start digging into what I could do to help make him more of the golden boy of the Upper East Side. Maybe I should brainstorm it with Winnie. She might have other ideas.

  Before I could give her a call, Court responded.

  Fine. All right. We’re just discussing work?

  Work is all there is.

  We should meet to discuss this.

  Meeting him would be a disaster. It was too soon. I couldn’t even be near him. I knew myself too well.

  I’m busy, dealing with the tabloids.

  English…

  I tucked my phone away. I didn’t want to answer that plea. I knew what he wanted. But I couldn’t give it to him. We had work to do. That was all.

  * * *

  I’m going out. Probably going to do something stupid.

  I glared at the text message from Court. A week had passed. I’d managed to avoid him that long. I’d spent the week curled in my bed, thinking about the fact that my husband had cheated on me and I was divorcing him. I’d even initiated the process. A process I knew was going to be a huge pain in the ass.

  I’d started my divorce proceedings so that I wouldn’t have to think about Court. My own client. Who I should be seeing regularly to keep him out of trouble. And now, he was sending me texts like this.

  You’re an idiot.

  I need a babysitter. I’ve been told that I’m impulsive.

  Damn if that wasn’t true.

  You need a sedative.

  The primary is Tuesday. Wouldn’t want to ruin that.

  I knew he was goading me. And still, I wanted to head out and make sure he didn’t do anything else reckless. Also, I wanted to see him. Even though he drove me batshit crazy. But I also couldn’t see him. In no way, shape, or form.

  Still, I was half-tempted to do it. Just to forget about Josh again for a few hours.

  Then, another text came in but this time from Winnie.

  SOS! Call me!

  I dialed Winnie’s number. “Hey, what’s up?”

  “Ugh, English! Thank god! Anisa Union is on The Tonight Show tonight. We prepped her. She was totally fine, on point, no issues.”

  “And now, she’s having a meltdown?”

  “Yes!” Winnie gasped. “We don’t have anyone else in New York. I know that you’re not on staff like you were, but I’d owe you a huge favor if you could go over there and calm her down. Give her a fucking Xanax, tell her she’s going to do great, and get her through this interview. This is make-or-break-it for her upcoming movie.”

  The universe was handing me an out.

  If I did this, then I wouldn’t have to go see Court. I could deal with someone else’s problems other than my own. And that was what I was good at anyway. I could get some hopped-up movie star to chill long enough to conduct an interview. No sweat. That was nothing.

  “I’ve got you covered, Win. I’ll head over there now.”

  “Thank you, English. You’re a lifesaver.”

  “I’ll call in that favor one day.”

  Winnie laughed. “No doubt. I’m sending you the information and letting Anisa know you’re on your way.”

  “Thanks.”

  I dashed into my closet, changing into my favorite black dress and heels. I added some eyeliner and a dark red lipstick. I had to look the part.

  This was why I did the job. It was the rush. The reminder that I was good at this. Court Kensington was an experiment for me and the agency. He was not the be-all, end-all of my career.

  So, I texted him as I was on my way to Rockefeller Center.

  Can’t make it. Dealing with another client.

  Another client?

  Yep. Just try not to get arrested.

  English…come on.

  Good night, Court.

  8

  Court

  English was avoiding me.

  Which had been fucking fine for the first few days. She’d bailed right after we fucked. I’d thought her excuse was just that… an excuse. How could she not want to do that again? Fuck, it’d been amazing.

  But it hadn’t been an excuse, apparently. She’d redirected all my attempts to contact her. She’d given me some bullshit work to do for the week leading up to the primary. She’d made up some extra clients in the city to keep her busy. I hadn’t even seen her since that night.

  I knew I’d see her tonight. She had to be at my mother’s victory party for the primary she was surely going to win. I’d kept my head down and done all the things I wa
s supposed to do. I wasn’t a liability. Blah, blah, blah.

  I’d seen it time and time again. I’d been to enough victory parties to know how they went down.

  I’d made sure that someone saw me voting. I’d even answered someone’s question with a goddamn smile at the polling place. English hadn’t even had to tell me what to do. I could be the Kensington poster boy if I tried. Just trying was overrated.

  Now, I stood with my mother at her campaign office. She’d just come back from a rally where she encouraged people to vote. She’d had an entire fucking parade for her entrance into the polling booth. To vote for herself no less.

  “Stop pacing,” I ground out. “If you win, you win. If you lose, you lose. You’ve done everything you can.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “I can always do more.”

  But she stopped pacing.

  “You’re coming to the party tonight? It would look good to have you onstage with me for the win.”

  “Unlike the last month where you wanted me nowhere near your events?”

  Her eyes hardened. “I would have loved to have your support. But at that time, it wasn’t advisable. We’ll see if everything Anna has done is valuable.”

  Anna. I almost laughed. I’d gotten so used to calling her English that Anna almost felt strange. “English is great at her job. Even if she drives me crazy.”

  “Good. That means she’s keeping you in line.”