Beautiful Things Evil People Do

by Kailee Reese Samuels

  To the House

  Echo

  “You just made the stupidest fucking mistake of your life!” Selia yells on the phone as I sit in the superstore parking lot in Columbia. “What the hell are you thinking! Get back out there and be his bitch, servant, slut, slave, hussy, whatever-the-fuck-he-wants girl!”

  I blink through her chastising. “I didn’t plan on getting reprimanded by my best friend for making a healthy decision!”

  “For most people,” she says, munching on something. “It would be a healthy decision—you, not so much. You’re giving up a fan-fucking-tastic guy who is admitting he is in love with you. And why are you doing it?”

  “Because I’m destroying his life.”

  “Change is equal parts destructive and constructive,” she compellingly makes her argument. “You’re changing Jynx, and he is trying—God knows, I bet he is trying with you—to change you.”

  I snort, “Are you saying I’m difficult?”

  “Beyond.”

  “Great,” I quip, wanting to cry again, but I’m all dried up. There are no more tears left to cry for Jynx Monroe. “I cannot go back there, Selia.”

  “You cannot come here.”

  “I’ll go to Birmingham.”

  “That is the last thing you need to do,” she scolds grumbling. “You need to drive your ass right back out to his farm, get on your hands and knees, suck his fucking dick, and beg for forgiveness for being such a damn idiot!”

  “I really don’t appreciate you taking his side on this.”

  “Because you’re blind, Ekky,” she stresses with an impassioned plea. “This guy is in love with you. Does he have some issues? Yeah. But you know what? So does every other person on the fucking planet! You’re still looking to achieve perfection to earn your mother’s acceptance. That is never going to happen. Give up on that notion, little girl! You must do for you! Stop living the life you think will make your mother happy.”

  I hate how right she is about that.

  Not the Jynx part.

  My phone buzzes. “He’s calling me.”

  “Answer it. Love you. Bye!”

  “Same.”

  I click to his call. “Hello?”

  “We need to stop at the gas station because your left back tire is low.”

  I glance around, looking for his truck. “Where are you?”

  Suddenly, headlights beam into my back window. He brought out his Mustang for this. Shit. I am in so much trouble. I close my eyes, knowing the hour-long trip home will be grueling.

  Fuck.

  I just called his farmhouse home.

  “You should say something, Ek.”

  “I need to piss.”

  “Follow me.”

  He hangs up and zips around me. I do as he says because the alternative isn’t really what I want either. California is the same old same; Birmingham is four years back with many bad memories I don’t need.

  South Carolina wins by a long shot.

  We stop at the gas station, and I hurry inside before he has a chance to corner me. By the time I get back, he’s aired up the tire and waiting in his car on the other side of the parking lot.

  My whole life hinges on this moment of decision.

  It shouldn’t be this hard.

  Jynx

  I floor it out of the parking lot and onto the frontage for the highway. Mama-mobile better bring her A-game. I must acquire this girl a more appropriate vehicle. She’s twenty-two, not forty with four brats in the back.

  No offense to forty or those four brats.

  But a girl needs to be free when she can be.

  Because responsibilities add up way too fucking quick, stealing youth.

  Realizing my whole thought process, I pull off into an empty church parking lot. I light a smoke and get out as she comes to a stop mere inches from my bumper. I eye the difference, and her, with a lift of my brows.

  “What?” she cattily mumbles, rolling down her window. She doesn’t look at me.

  Great, we’re back to this.

  Square fucking one.

  I toss my keys in her lap.

  “What the fuck am I supposed to do with these?”

  “Drive my car.”

  She frantically bats her lashes like all the bugs covering her windshield just flew in her eyes. “That is your baby.”

  “Drive my car,” I calmly say, though she is testing my patience tonight. The weekend was long and hard with lots of new emo-garbage to sort through.

  Turning to look at me, she says, “Jynx?”

  “You’re so fucking beautiful when you’re mad,” I admire, stroking her cheek. “And I love you so goddamned much.”

  Her whole face twitches. “You shouldn’t.”

  “I don’t have a choice in the matter,” I admit honestly. “Believe me, if I did, I wouldn’t have chosen you.” She scowls. “I don’t mean you as in you…I mean, I wouldn’t have chosen anyone. I didn’t want a relationship. I only need an ass to whip. I didn’t plan on falling in love with a damn girl.”

  “Woman,” she corrects, staring at the dash. I tilt my head.

  “Fine, young woman,” I say, humoring her because I need to get off and soon.

  “Better,” she praises.

  “Now, go drive my fucking car before I change my mind.”

  “... Jynx?”

  “Yes, baby?”

  “I can’t drive a stick.”

  “Fuck,” I mutter, running my fingers through my hair. I can kiss the tranny goodbye. “Come on.”

  “What are we doing?”

  “Having a lesson,” I reply, walking to my car and opening the door. I wait as she reluctantly paces toward me. “Get in the car.”

  “You’re an asshole.”

  “I warned you of that.”

  There are times in life when we all make mistakes.

  Teaching Abigail Maines to drive a standard was probably the biggest one thus far. She is an excellent driver. She is also an extremist.

  One minute, she kills it.

  The next, she zooms past the Mama-mobile flipping me off.

  “I’m beating her ass when we get home.”

  The problem with that statement is we may never make it through town. Every stoplight, she kills it. At one point, she somehow managed to throw it into reverse and almost rammed the front of her car. Quick thinking on my part prevented an insurance claim.

  From the farmhouse to Columbia, on a good night, maybe forty-five minutes if I’m speeding. It has taken us two hours to get home when she finally turns into the driveway.

  Maybe she doesn’t need freedom in a sports car.

  A better solution is to lock the bitch down.

  I understand what has occurred better than most. I kidnapped the poor girl, and she managed to escape. By luck, I charmed her into returning to prison.

  Pretty good, if I say so myself.

  She parks a reasonable distance from the house and truck. I whip her car into the garage. I’m fucking hiding the goddamned keys.

  Standing by the Mustang, she waits as I sprint past her. “Get in.”

  “Where are we going?”

  “Get in.”

  She clearly cannot hear tonight. Plopping in the passenger seat, she says, “I’m in trouble.”

  “How do you know?”

  “You didn’t open the door.”

  I lean across the seat, wrap my hand around the back of her neck, and kiss her hard with all of the love I have. My lips and tongue claim her attention. “I love you. And yes, you’re in big fucking trouble because I had to drive five miles out of this hole in the wall to get your GPS to pick up. I didn’t know where you were.”

  “You told me to go.”

  “I also told you three times to drive my car and twice to get in. The selective hearing thing will not fly with me. You listen. First time. Every time.”

  Her lips purse into a hard line. She’s steaming mad, but at least she’s back in my possession. She’s my problem and my res
ponsibility. “Yes, Sir.”

  Wow.

  I didn’t expect that. “You’re to go inside, march your ass up to the room, take off all of your clothes, and wait for me.”

  She gives a brief, subtle nod and mutters, “This is punishment in anger?”

  “No, this is discipline because I’ve been rocking a massive fucking erection since I smelled you,” I reveal, and she briefly smirks. “Go!”

  Echo

  Kneeling in the darkened room, I wait for my Master’s disciplinary action. The door opens and closes almost silently as he enters. “Congratulations! You’ve graduated from undisciplined wench to a tantrum throwing bitch needing some rules. You should be proud of yourself. It is quite an accomplishment. That said, don’t let it go to your head. Stand up.”

  I rise and whisper, “I didn’t listen, though.”

  “You did when it counted.”

  “And that matters?”

  “It does,” he says as his eyes flash to mine. “I appreciate it when you listen. Let’s get something straight. I’m never trying to be a dick to you. I’m trying to take care of you the best way I know how.”

  “You told me to go,” I whimper with big eyes. “Why did you do that?”

  “To let you have a minute to think about life without me,” he brags, standing in front of me. He’s shirtless with damp hair. My toes curl against the grain of the wooden floor. “You’re going to be resistant. All bottoms are. You’re particularly bad because of your age. But I want to take care of you. And more than anything else in the whole fucking world—you need to remember that.”

  “I would like you to take care of me.”

  “I didn’t take you out to the beach house to confuse you,” he implores, scanning over my face. “I took you out there because I wanted to know how you would react to the idea of more before I got my heart set on it.”

  “What is your heart set on?”

  “You, Abby,” he whispers, touching my cheek. “My heart is set on you.”

  “You want to rape me.”

  “I do,” he divulges with a dangerous smirk. “More than anything right now. I want to pin you down, silence your mouth with mine, and stick my dick inside of you. I want to fuck you for hours until you can’t walk in the morning. And then, I’d make you breakfast and set you up somewhere pretty with a good book and cups of hot tea all day.”

  “And tomorrow night, you’d do it all again. Your princess by day and your whore by night, but I don’t understand where we go after summer. It all sounds great until the expiration date when the cliff drops off, and I lose you. Then, what the fuck do I do? I’m warped, conforming to your fittings, and no one else that comes after you will make sense. What do I do, post-Jynx?”

  “There won’t be a post-Jynx.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Because…” He stops, scratching his brow and looking down. “I’ll move if I have to. You want California; we’ll go there. You want South Carolina; we’ll stay here. You want fucking Alaska; we’ll go there. I’ll go anywhere you want to go. I can do my job anywhere.”

  I cannot help but smile. “Dating you is difficult.”

  “You want some regular dates with all this other shit? We can do that too,” he appeases, diligently trying to bridge the gap between us. “We can do whatever you want.”

  “Rape me.”

  “No!” he roars, refusing my demands again.

  “One day, you’ll say yes.”

  “No,” he snickers, shaking his head. “One day, I’ll just do it.”

  “You’re going to be my first.”

  His brow tightens as he lights a smoke. The flame of the lighter illuminates his blue eyes and the shadow of scruff on his cheeks as he exhales and snickers, “It won’t be rape, and we both know that.”

  “We’ll pretend,” I giggle, knowing he’s right. I’d spread my thighs for this man—even at his worst—anytime. “What now?”

  “I’m whipping your fucking ass,” he casually mentions. “And I’m getting off in one of your holes because you’ve upset me. And then we’re going to take a shower.”

  “… Together?”

  “Yes,” he confirms as the slickness of lust streams between my thighs. “And I’m molesting you in my bed, and after that, you’re sleeping on my arm.”

  “Jynx?” I bravely mumble, reaching out and grazing his hand with mine.

  “Yes, baby?”

  “Hurt me like I’m a bad girl. Use me like you have other girls. Take what you want from me.”

  “I intend to.”

  Jynx

  In the house’s silence, the riding crop numbs the unnecessary head gunk and promotes real intimacy. Her whole backside is inflamed with my fierce marks, but she has stood like a soldier, taking the blows without nary a tear. I’m beyond proud of her because I know—I’m not easy.

  I throw another lash to her ass and rub my hand over my hard cock. I’ve been throbbing for over an hour since we started, staring at naked flesh, waiting to be used by my hands and will. I want inside of this girl—to break her and make her mine.

  I need her confession.

  Reaffirmation—that she wants this, so I don’t feel like we’re just passing the time.

  “I need a drink.”

  She quivers and asks, “What would you like?”

  “Something strong and a lot of it.”

  Soaked in sweat, I drop to the floor and raise my arms above my head. She asks, “Are you okay?”

  “No.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “I can smell your pussy, and it’s driving me insane,” I confess as her giggle sweetens the air. “Come piss on me.”

  Spinning around, she says nothing for a good half minute. I let it slide because this is a tough one—a trial. “Where would you like it, Sir?”

  “My dick.”

  In the moonlight, I note the smirk as she bites her lip. “You’re serious.”

  “Don’t make me ask twice.” I pop the button on my jeans and rip the zipper down with a tug of the denim. My hard cock springs free, demanding attention. I’m so worked up all it would take is one stroke to launch me. I’ve got it so bad for this bitch. “Give it to me, baby. Let me feel it. And don’t hold back.”

  She slowly steps over the top of me. I lightly brace my hands on her ankles. “You want it low or high?”

  I’m impressed she bothered to ask.

  “You can go down there, but if you penetrate my pussy,” I warn with a harshness. “If you take what is mine, I will never forgive you.” Boldly, she lowers, barely brushing her lips over the head of me. “God, it’s too much. Back up a smidge,” I command, knowing I won’t be able to control myself. She does as I request. “Fuck!” I grimace, agonizing in the dilemma of my self-control. “Go back down.”

  “You’re really tempted by this.”

  “Like you cannot fucking imagine,” I moan as she slathers over the tip. “Dammit, I want to fuck you so bad.”

  “Jynx, I’m going to go.”

  “Oh, shit,” I yell, not thinking she would actually have the nerve to do it. I feel the warmth of her rushing over my dick. “Fuck yes, baby…do it…” Leaning up, I try and hold out, but her giving up all control is too much. I groan hard, coming in her flood. “Holy fuck!” I flop my head back and breathe. I’m stunned with delirious amazement. “Okay, I’ve never done that. You’re fucking incredible. The best ending ever.”

  “That was fucking hot,” she whispers, touching her cum covered lips. “I’m going to masturbate now.”

  “No, you’re fucking not,” I chide, sitting up and putting her on her back. I thrust two fingers hard and deep into her wet lips. She’s soaked, sucking my fingers like a ravenous kitten. “Touch your clit.”

  She does, but only for a moment as her explosion erupts, and her body convulses on my hand. “I love you, Jynx!” She smiles as blown away by our chemistry as I am.

  “We need to talk about protection,” I sigh, laying beside her
with ecstatic relief. “Like now.”

  “I’ve been on the pill since I was eighteen,” she whispers. “And you’re the only man I ever plan on being with.”

  “I like the way that sounds,” I confide, smirking. “Are you going to let me make you Mrs. Abigail Monroe?”

  She curls against my side and whispers, “In time.”

  “Good girl.”

  19

  Feed Off the Fear

  Jynx

  Life rapidly changes when least expected.

  I took the beach house off of the market.

  Axel moved to upstate New York to be near our grandparents.

  My father sold Monroe Consulting, and my parents took a month-long vacation to Australia. The buyers immediately dismantled the entire operation, laying off over seventy-five percent of the employees. They kept the foreign clients but terminated all of their North American contracts, leaving them with a lapse of—what the fuck do we do now?

  With Axel, who handled public relations, conveniently among the missing, and my parents out of the country, guess which Monroe everyone decided to call upon?

  I answered the call.

  Until it got to be too much.

  “Let me help you,” she begged on her knees with my dick in her hands and pre-cum gloss on her lips. “I want to be able to do things for you.”

  Oh, God, are you ever…

  Now, I have a pleasant assistant in Echo to answer the non-stop ringing phone. She is my first line of defense, deciding the urgency of the call. I have teasingly named her, “My little phone sex operator.”

  She giggled and said, “Only for you.”

  She’ll need to file harassment charges with HR by the end of the week.

  The farmhouse resembles a cluttered office full of computer gear, racks, and equipment. Client files and Echo’s honey-do lists are scattered between Grandma’s owl figurines and collection of bones she found on the property over the years. Somehow, with a lot of take-out, we’re making it work.