Beautiful Things Evil People Do

by Kailee Reese Samuels

  “I don’t need the bullshit of that life anymore.”

  “You just walked away from years of work after spending a couple of weeks with me.”

  “Put your logic away,” he mutters, slamming the champagne. “I’ve got this. You just provided the fuse to spark the bomb.”

  “What else do I give you, Jynx?”

  Stalking closer, he strips off his shirt. “A raging hard-on.”

  I creep back, taunting and teasing him. “You were a very naughty boy tonight.”

  “It’s all downhill from here, baby.”

  He eases closer as his whiskey-tinted breath hits me. “What do you want?”

  “Everything,” he mutters, trickling his fingertip along the diamond leash between my breasts. “Give me everything, you sweet, sweet bitch.”

  I sit on the bed and stare at his belt buckle. My tongue swishes over his abs before running along the edge of his waistband. I blink up. “Hurt me, J.”

  He picks me up underneath my arms and tosses me into the center of the bed. I crawl onto all fours, jetting my hips back and offering the roundness of my derriere for his inspection. I sensually roll my entire body.

  His hands shove the hem of my dress up, and he admires the package. “Damn, you’re trouble.” Grazing over my cheek with his knuckles, he growls, “Breathe.”

  “Best plan on filling that back up,” I request as he gently pulls out the vibrating plug.

  “I would never dream of doing anything else.”

  “What are we doing?”

  Snapping his belt, he snickers, “Drunk sex.”

  With one swing, he changes the course as I gasp and bite my lip. “Shit!”

  He paces around the bed, pausing way too long. “… Are you okay?”

  “I’ll start thinking you care if you show concern,” I challenge, grappling with my conflicting emotions. “Swat me, Jynx!”

  The reassurance was all he needed to embark on a journey that I had shunned for so long. I was not a submissive was etched into my mind, but with every strike of his belt to my ass, he proved otherwise, marring the mantra until I no longer remembered a life without his control.

  My fingers grip the sheet, twisting and curling as he proves to be a relentless bastard with countless lashes against my immaculate flesh. “I’m so fucking hard for you.”

  “Take it,” I encourage, dampened with lust, tears, and drool. “Be my first.”

  He flops on the bed, covered in sweat. “Stroke my fucking cock and kiss me.”

  I stop, hiccuping on his request, “… At the same time?”

  He laughs, “Yes.”

  “This is getting dangerously close to being a romance,” I mutter, kissing his lips as he unzips and places my fingers around his dick. His enormous hand gently seals over mine, showing me how to stroke his cock. “You feel like velvet in my hand.”

  “Follow me.”

  He’s teaching me.

  Everything—how to behave, how to touch him, how to live, and how to love him. My tongue sweeps across his bottom lip. “I’m falling in love with you, Jynx Monroe.”

  “I will be your first and last in everything, Abigail Maines.”

  “Is that a promise?”

  “Absofuckinglutely.”

  17

  So Figure It Out

  Echo

  The next morning, we drive through the Lowcountry, which feels like deep boonies compared to Clementine’s house. Marshes and wetlands surround as we pull up to a rusted gate.

  With unease, I ask, “This is your house?”

  “Yeah,” he says, smirking and sensing my fear. “It’s fine.”

  “Uh-huh,” I say as he hops out to unlock the chain and quickly returns. “This is the moment when I die.”

  “Only after I torture you for a few years.”

  “I hate you sometimes.”

  “I know,” he replies, chuckling and tossing his sunglasses up onto his ball cap. He pops the truck into four-wheel drive, and we ride the long, muddy path to an unimpressive shanty. Two giant trash receptacles sit in the yard. “Sorry about the construction.”

  “Um,” I nervously say. “You’re scaring me.”

  “Trust me,” he says, giving a reassuring grip to my fingers. He rushes around to open my door and extends his arm. “They had to stop working on it last week because of the rain. Come on. I’ll show you around.”

  He leads me down a weed-covered path past the house. Trees and bushes block the way as we trod through the grass to the main house. “This is my home, but as you can see…”

  “There is no yard yet,” I mumble, staring at the grand Antebellum. “Is it old?”

  “No, it’s brand new. The original was unsalvageable, so we located the blueprints and rebuilt it.”

  “It’s massive!”

  “Oh, yes!” We carefully climb the steps, and he covers my eyes with his palm. “Turn around.” His hand drops to a breathtaking, untainted view of nature—trees, creeks, and the magnificent ocean. “The house has minimal furniture, and the echo is real.”

  I giggle at his pun. “What are you doing with the house out front?”

  “Tearing it down as soon as we finish here,” he informs, staring at me. I can’t stop smiling. “My house is not done, as you can see.”

  “… Is it livable?”

  “The kitchen is complete, as is the Master suite. Everything else is still being worked on and able to be decorated as however one might wish.”

  “This is crazy.” It’s all too much for my mind to process. I want to believe the fantasy I have running in my head that he is saying I could decorate, and this would be our house, but I turn numb. In awe, I guess, “It floods.”

  “You didn’t ask if I was sane,” he jokes, rubbing my shoulders. “It’s been one thing after another to get the house this far. I’ve had the property for two years, and water will always be an issue.”

  “Are you going to live here?”

  Are we going to live here?

  Are you making plans?

  “I was planning on it at one point,” he says, tossing his sunglasses, ball cap, and keys on the counter. “I’ve got several offers from people who want to buy it.” His seductive bedroom eyes urge with a passion that I haven’t seen.

  “Why are you looking at me like that?”

  He smirks, almost blushing, and confides the truth. “Pretend for one minute that this thing works. Would you want to live here?”

  I wrinkle my nose and glance around. “I don’t know,” I blurt out, unable to feel my toes. “Flooding makes me nervous.”

  Like the flood of love I feel in my heart for this man I don’t even know.

  What is happening to me?

  “You like the old farm and the scary staircases better?”

  “I do!” I giggle, needing wings to fly away. “Let’s pretend,” I slowly—carefully—muster out. “We end up having a family. I don’t know that I would want to raise kids here.”

  I don’t even know if I want kids.

  Or to be your…wife.

  My head spins with all the variables that I don’t have answers for, and I need them. I studied psychology because I love the webbing of the mind. This must have a solution.

  Everything has a solution.

  I needed to have sex; I couldn’t find an appropriate suitor; I posted an ad.

  It may not have been the right solution, but it was, nonetheless, a solution.

  And I’d like to note—I still haven’t had actual intercourse.

  All I did was attract this very good looking, strange man who abducted me.

  “I’ll sell it.”

  “Just like that?” I bellow, louder than I intended. “You shouldn’t do that!”

  I might want to live here if I decide to be your peculiar little wife.

  “Yeah, just like that,” he says, snapping. “But let me tell you why. For what I have on the table for this, I can easily invest in the business with Axel, so this decision matters.”
r />   “It’s pressing,” I acknowledge, feeling under the gun. My eyes shift from side to side with uncertainty. “You would sell this because I don’t like it?”

  “Yes.”

  “Let’s go over this one more time,” I insist, methodically. “You won’t talk about the future, have even said several times that I’m leaving at the end of summer, but so far, you quit your job and are considering selling your house because of me. It doesn’t make sense, babe.”

  “I’m in love with you, Echo. There is no falling. We’re well past that. Falling was when you showed me your tits doing ninety. I love you.”

  Oh. My. Fucking. God. No.

  I query, “Flat out?”

  “Flat out,” he declares with a serious glare. “There is no debate. I’m a middle-aged man in love with a beautiful young woman, and I intend to do everything in my power to keep her happy and by my side.”

  In your collar.

  Under your belt.

  With your greedy power plays.

  I fake a grin, unsure of what to say, so I make light of it. “Must have been a helluva hand job.”

  “Oh, it was.” He winks. “Best I’ve had.”

  Don’t say that.

  God, it was fun.

  Stop and think about what you’re doing, Abs.

  He turns to grab a bottle of water from the construction crew’s mini-fridge. “What if I don’t want you to partner up with Axel?”

  Pivoting back, he easily says, “I won’t.”

  “Rape me.”

  “No.”

  “Dammit!” I pout, and he laughs. “So I’m allowed and encouraged even to make life-changing decisions for you, but requesting sex…”

  “Not happening.”

  I blink, on the verge of crying or screaming at him. “I’m going to look around.”

  Meandering through the incredible house, I question how my stupid ad led me to this place. I’m in fucking South Carolina, in the middle of nowhere, with a man I barely know, and I want to fuck his damn brains out.

  He stalked me.

  He drugged me.

  He abducted me.

  He pushed the limits.

  And God, it’s so good when he does.

  Think, Abigail!

  I climb the elegant, broad curved staircase, trying to imagine a future with Jynx. And the truth is—I can’t see the pages of our lives unfolding in the house surrounded by water.

  I don’t mind the water from a distance.

  But this is too much water.

  The reward isn’t worth the risk for me. I can’t imagine building our lives to have it swept away in an instant, and I understand that could happen anywhere.

  Life is fickle.

  Better not to get involved with life or anyone associating with life experience. It’s full of a foul stench, a decay.

  Easier to live than love; love hurts.

  Move robotically from one task to the next. Do not think; do. Do not mourn the losses. Do not feel the pain.

  Function.

  Damn, my ass stings.

  In many ways, Jynx is like an ocean. He rushed into my life with the rapid force of a hurricane, submerging everything I knew and leaving me stranded—alone, safely—on the island of his shoulders.

  But I can only stay here for so long.

  Out the back window, I notice a fancy truck pull up. Axel steps out, and I hear Jynx greet him. I’m not being fair, defining the terms of his business, yet this is the position he put me in.

  We’ve known each other for less than a month.

  Everything is happening way too fast.

  Struggling in my turmoil, I sit on the top step of the staircase, staying out of their meeting, but I cannot help but eavesdrop.

  “She’s the girl from the ad,” Axel chuckles. “I know what you did.”

  “I couldn’t let this girl get raped.”

  “And you decided saving her was a better alternative?”

  “Yeah, I did,” he persists, convinced an abduction was worth the risk.

  That makes me a reward.

  I cannot be his reward.

  “That’s fucked up, brother.”

  “I didn’t plan on actually liking her. I planned on changing her perception. She deserved far more than some dickhead taking advantage of her.”

  Axel snickers, “What do you think you’re doing?”

  “Treating her right,” Jynx argues, unwavering with an escalating tone. “And if you insinuate otherwise again, you can get the fuck out of my house. Abigail is mine.”

  Shit.

  Reward. Collar. Possession.

  HIS.

  My presence is annihilating his entire world as I await his blame and resentment, but the fallout of mine is his to claim. I cover my ears, not wanting to hear anymore. I know what I need to do as tears spring from my eyes.

  But doing it will be the hardest thing I’ve ever done.

  “You haven’t said a word for hours,” Jynx says, driving the darkened road back to the farmhouse. “We need to talk.”

  “There isn’t much to say.”

  “The whole weekend threw our trajectory off-kilter.”

  “Why?” I ask as he pulls into the driveway. “We cannot live the rest of our days at the farmhouse. We have to learn to deal with Axel, your parents, my parents, friends, jobs, social circles, and everything. We have to find a way to explain who we are and what this relationship is.”

  “Do you need to define for someone or yourself?” he angrily demands. “Because love needs no explanation.”

  He parks the car, and I hop out on my own. “I’m staying in the downstairs bedroom tonight.”

  “Fine,” he replies with agitation before grabbing the luggage and unlocking the door. “When you leave, don’t come back.”

  I sneer, “How do you know I’m leaving?”

  Setting my things down, he walks off toward the staircase. “It’s real fucking clear.”

  He’s halfway up the steps when I accuse, “And Axel knows about the ad!”

  Glancing over his shoulder, he doesn’t say a single word. I run to the bedroom, yank my suitcase from the closet and shove my things in the bag. I have many items in his bedroom, but those will be a loss. I scan over the room, spotting the journal, and the tears come on strong.

  I grab the book, shredding it with maddening fury and yelling, “You fucker! You never should’ve taken me! Dammit!”

  Out of my purse, I grab the silken bag, holding the diamond collar, and toss it on the bed with the shredded notebook. I wipe my nose on my sleeve, click off the light, and swipe my car keys from the junk drawer.

  With an overdose of adrenaline, I quickly carry my bags to the car in the driveway and glance back at the house. His bedroom light is on, but he doesn’t honestly care. I was only a conquest—a willpower championship match with exact determining factors of Dominance and submission. I would never win.

  The game was rigged.

  “Goodbye, Jeremiah.”

  “When you start to care, you run like the wind,” he mutters from behind, startling me.

  I almost jump out of my skin. “What the fuck are you doing?”

  “You’re afraid to love, stuck in the absolute misery of loss.”

  “You cannot compare this to what happened with Colton!”

  “Was that his name?” he asks with his arms crossed over his chest. “Colton, the kid who chose to commit suicide? You didn’t do that. He did that. You’re carrying his scars, but he’s dead. How much sense does that make?”

  “You’re asking me to make decisions, but you won’t even discuss the future!” I yell as he peers over his nose, remaining propped against the tree. “And how is this any different from what happened with Celeste? You’ve locked yourself away for a decade, but I won’t be your prisoner!”

  “You seem to think you have a choice in the matter.”

  “I’m leaving, Jynx!” He takes one mammoth step and pummels my body into the side of the car. “Don’t do t
his,” I beg, crying. “I won’t put up the ad again. I’ll go back to California, live out my happy life, and promise to forget you.”

  “You can say that,” he growls in my ear. “But you don’t mean it.”

  I close my eyes, feeling his hard body pressed against me. “I do,” I whisper. “This was all a mistake. And you’re nothing but a messed up gentleman. You warned me about the criminal mindset that I was attracting, but have you looked in the mirror?”

  “You want to go?” he questions, loosening his grip as my lip trembles. He fucking opens my door like a goddamned gentleman. “Go. But you best be prepared to lie to yourself for the rest of your life because you’ll always wonder. And after that nightmare stops, the real regret will come on relentlessly terrorizing your heart and punishing your mind as you question what could’ve been.”

  With great gumption, I dare to ask, “Why does your dad call you Jeremy?”

  “Because he knows I hate it.” His eyes blink up to the numerous glittery stars sprinkling the sky. “And since I fucked up and got thrown in the slammer, he has made sure I understood that the only reason I was out of jail was because of him.”

  “He held it over your head.”

  “Yeah,” he mutters, clenching his jaw. “That is why I quit. You just gave me a reason to do it.”

  “... Me?”

  He snorts. “Maybe you missed the part where I said I was in love with you. I don’t need this job.” The back of his hand caresses my cheek. “What I need is you—all of you, Echo. You’re the beautiful light, full of goodness to my ugly, darkened evil. You balance me like no one ever has.”

  “For the next two months,” I cry, sniffling and inconsolable. “You said you’d never raped anyone. How many times have you thought about it?”

  “… With you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Countless.”

  “You’re so fucked up.” I’m unable to stop sobbing. “God, I’ve so fucked up my whole life because of you!”

  “I can’t do this,” he mumbles, releasing me. “Just go.”

  I slide into the driver’s seat, start the engine, and hit the gas.

  And I don’t look back.

  18