Beautiful Things Evil People Do

by Kailee Reese Samuels

  “I’ll need directions,” she whispers, batting her lashes and reaching between us. Her slender fingers guide me to her wetness. She isn’t timid or afraid of me at all, and I love that about her. She’s aggressive, going after what she wants with gusto and vigor. “I tend to get lost.”

  “You’re doing a great job of finding exactly what you’re looking for right now.”

  She blushes and giggles as I arch up and slide in a bit more. I offer her my hands, and she grasps them, lowering onto me. “That’s easy when you’re pointing north with a big cock.”

  I laugh and snarl. “Do you have any idea how much I love you?”

  “I have an idea,” she says, smiling. “But you should know, I ran out of birth control pills a week ago.”

  My only reaction is a grin. “Are you trying to trap me, schoolgirl?”

  “Would I do that?” She winks, leisurely riding my cock with rhythmic sweeping motions from base to tip. “It’s not like I like you.”

  “That’s enough from you,” I playfully tease, sitting up and kissing her sweet lips. “If I get you pregnant, you’ll have to stay with me.”

  “Mhmm,” she moans. “Because I wouldn’t be capable of caring for a baby by myself?”

  “Not at all,” I boast, wrapping my arms around her waist and rolling my hips from beneath. “I know you can do it. The point is I don’t want you to. You’re mine. The baby I plan on putting in your belly is mine.”

  She eyes me. “… Possessive much?”

  “Quite a bit, actually.”

  “We’ll need to practice a lot.”

  “Of course!”

  “How many kids do you want?”

  “I’d never actually thought about having children,” I honestly admit. “I was always concerned with avoiding them until you came along. You broke me.”

  “Maybe I fixed you!” She softly smiles but turns rapidly serious. “Are you sure you want them with me?”

  “Echo, the first time I looked in your eyes at the wedding, I knew I wanted you to be the mother of my children. I will take a boy or a girl or twins or whatever we’re blessed with, but the one thing I know is I want to have children with you.”

  She glances down as a blush rises on her cheeks. “We’re really doing this?”

  “We are,” I confirm, inching closer to her lips. “You’re my girl.”

  She rolls her body against mine, and a minute later, she drops a much bigger bomb than possible offspring. “I want to ride on your bike.”

  My brows tighten with concern. “… You what? I thought you were the anti-biker?”

  “I met this really great guy and he loves riding, so I have to make sure the seat fits my ass.”

  “Ahh, I see,” I reply, holding back a shit-eating grin. “Because you may not fit?”

  “Right!” She nods as her hazel eyes sparkle at me. “There are things I need to work on healing, and this is a big one. There is not a better man for me to latch my arms around while doing sixty.”

  “Do you mean that? Do you really feel that way?”

  “I do,” she hastily says. “Just don’t call me your old lady because I’m not ready for that yet. And I don’t know if I ever will be. The phrase has a long history of being a painful thing in my mind.”

  “I’m a rather mature, patient fellow.” I promise, “Those two words will not come out of this mouth, but you never have to worry about me doing something dumb. I waited years for you to show up. I will be loyal, loving, and doting on you until my last breath.”

  “Will you defend my wish to not be called such by your brothers?”

  With my complete focus on her, I shake my head. “You never have to ask me to defend you; it will just happen, I assure you. The incident in Tucson can easily occur again, but honestly, my cousin will probably beat me to it and make the point very clear one time. That will be the end of it.”

  “So we’ll ride?”

  “We will,” I agree, stealing her mouth for my lascivious needs. “But first I’m making you come on my dick and then I’m bathing you in a nice, hot shower.”

  “I could get used to this.”

  “Please do,” I seriously say. “Just know, if you toss me a positive pregnancy test, I will be twice as bad.”

  “That would mean you’re coming too.”

  “Oh, baby, I’m going to come in you forever.”

  Echo

  I sit on his Harley seat when he holds open his RR hoodie, and I slip my arms inside. He zips it up and asks, “When was the last time you were on a bike?”

  My lips twitch, thinking. “Probably thirteen, maybe fourteen.”

  “It’s been awhile.”

  “Yeah, once I hit those teenage years, I didn’t want to ride with my father anymore because it started to take on a symbolism of the club, his cheating, and my mom’s subsequent behavior. I never knew her not being crazy, but the more self-sufficient we became, the worse she acted. She loves club life and ignores his shit. Unfortunately, I couldn’t.”

  “I don’t think that’s unfortunate,” he says, plopping a helmet on my head. It’s way too big. “You’re smart enough to recognize bad situations and not put yourself in the middle of them.” He straddles onto the bike. “If you get nervous or need to stop, let me know.”

  “So I can tell you to stop the bike, but not stop driving your dick into my backdoor?”

  “Pretty much,” he replies, putting on his sunglasses and smirking. “Hold on, gorgeous.”

  He starts the bike, and I feel the rumble travel through my core. I ease closer to him. “Is this okay?”

  “Get as close to me as you need to,” he politely invites, glancing over his shoulder. He wants me to be comfortable in his presence, even if I am throwing a hissy fit. “You aren’t going to bother me. Just go slow if you plan on grabbing my dick.”

  “How do you know I will grab your dick?”

  “Your name is Ekky and you’re twenty-two,” he snickers as we slowly drive on the gravel. “They’re coming to get the horses later today.”

  “You’ll be back in time,” I reassure, feeling his hard, warm body against mine. We reach the end of the driveway. “Where are the peacocks?”

  “I sold them.”

  In an instant, I’m utterly heartbroken. “… You did?”

  “And I am working on selling the beach house too,” he informs as I frown. “I needed to get rid of everything that reminded me of you.”

  “Is that why you packed Clementine’s house? Are you selling it?”

  “I haven’t decided yet,” he says as I rest my face against the back of his neck. “I can do whatever you want. And we can start our muster of peacocks. The best chance for their survival is to stay near home. I hope they don’t come back here, but they might.”

  My eyes threatened to spill as I babble, “You sold the peacocks.”

  “We can rebuild our ostentation of peacocks.”

  I grab his balls and taunt, “Smartass.” He laughs, stopping at the end of the drive. “Don’t be a pussy pulling out just on my account.”

  “I don’t plan on it,” he snarls, lowering his shades and peering over his shoulder. “And I don’t ever pull out.”

  By the time he exits the feed store, I’m begging for more of his ride like a sex-starved kitten. I enjoy the long trip down the backroads until I recognize where we are.

  “Jynx? Why are we at the beach house?”

  “I need to say my final goodbye,” he says with a hint of sadness, driving down the blacktop road to the magnificent house. “I got an offer on her this morning.”

  Before we’ve stopped, I pull off my helmet and question, “Are you taking it?”

  “I don’t know,” he replies as we stop in front of the steps on the circular drive. The old, dilapidated house has been torn down. The pristine yard is landscaped and looks nothing like what I remember.

  “Is the inside still unfinished?”

  “For the most part,” he informs, extending his hand t
o me. “They finished the walls, but we omitted a lot of the trims and details for the final owners to choose.”

  “Can I see it one more time?”

  “Of course,” he says with a smile as we climb the steps to the front porch. I turn around to the ocean view, and he unlocks the door. “I’m going to miss the water.”

  The house is clean and neat, smelling of paint and varnish. I run my hand over the smoothness of the ornately carved wood handrail on the staircase and meander through the house with him following me.

  Though instead of a house tour, a melancholy feeling takes hold, like visiting a cemetery. I walk the three levels, peering in every room. He stays close, and I whisper, “I want to see the water.”

  Through the gardens, a stone path leads to wooden planks set within the sand as I gaze with wonder out to the sea. I bravely pull off my shoes.

  “It’s gonna be chilly,” he warns, smirking. “Don’t get too wet.”

  “It’s hard not to when you’re around.” I wink.

  The waves rush around my feet, and I bite my lip. “When I was a little girl, my father used to go for weekend rides. He loved the water, and it didn’t surprise me when they moved to Florida. I never liked the ocean because it seemed so much bigger than me, like it could swallow me whole. And I remember, he used to dip my feet in the gulf and I would scream like I was being murdered. But he insisted on doing it anyway and laughing at my cries.”

  “I won’t ever laugh at your cries, not your real ones at least,” I whisper, knowing how hard it is for her to open up. Because it is hard for me too. “Do you still feel like the seas will consume you?”

  “No,” I whisper as he walks up and wraps his arms tightly around me. “I have you to protect me. Nothing will ever hurt me again. Not like he did. I want to be brave enough to have my wedding on a beach. I’m tired of being the victim of his emotional abuse; I want to be a survivor.”

  “I won’t let anything happen to you ever.”

  “I know,” I mutter with puddles forming in my eyes. “That’s why the girl who is terrified of the water is standing in the Atlantic Ocean with her boyfriend holding her. You’re part of this culture, this place, and I don’t know how I feel about you moving away from it.”

  “Texas has the Gulf too.”

  “It’s different,” I say, realizing what all he is giving up. “Why are you doing it?”

  “You want the truth?”

  “Yes,” I say, nodding. “Please.”

  “Because this place as fond as I am of it, holds a lot of bad memories for me. I want to start over somewhere new with you. Not your home. Not my home. Our home, a neutral ground with no history.”

  “And only your cousin to bail us out of trouble?”

  “My brother too,” he says with a crooked smirk. “There won’t be a lack of good family.”

  I walk, just a few feet away, feeling the sand slip beneath my feet. He trusts me, letting me go alone as I process the idea of our new lives together.

  We aren’t starting. We already started four-plus months ago at a wedding. This is our love story, and we’re writing every page. Every day is a new memory, another page.

  “It’s so amazing,” I marvel, glancing up at the beautiful white house with teal shutters. “Why don’t you keep it for a vacation home?” I spin back to Jynx and find him grinning and lowered on one knee. “Oh, my God…” I cover my mouth as the tears shower against my cheeks. I am ugly crying in front of a fabulous man. “What are you doing Jynx?”

  “Abigail Echo Renata Maines, you are the most incredible woman I’ve ever met. And when you left, I swore if I ever saw you again, this would be one of the first things I did. I don’t want to ever lose you again. I don’t want to spend another minute without you by my side. I need you in my life like I’ve never needed anyone else. And I want you to be my wife. I want to give you my last name and my life—every good and bad memory from here on out, I want them to be with you.” He stops to open the red box and pulls the stunning diamond halo ring out. “Will you marry me?”

  I freeze. “Shit.” I turn away and bounce in place for a minute.

  “… Ekky?”

  “Hmm?”

  “Let the scream out.”

  And I do.

  I yell like a siren calling the seas to her side.

  When I finally calm down to take a breath, I smirk like an innocent angel with the devil on my mind and shout, “Yes! Yes! I will marry you Jynx Monroe!”

  I hold out my hand, and he slides the ring on my finger. With a boyish grin, he confides, “I’ve never done this before. I never thought I would.”

  “You did fine!” I giggle as he stands and picks me up high into the air. “I’m a bird!”

  “Don’t stop sailing in those skies, beautiful.”

  “I snagged a hell of a catch.”

  His brow lifts, and his dimples pop as he restrains his amusement. “You think?”

  “I know,” I say as he spins me round and round on the beach. “God, you had me feeling terrible with you acting all sad about selling the house.”

  “Nah, I turned the offer down and took it off the market this morning.”

  “You’re such a dick!” I tease, swatting at his biceps. “And you’re brilliant with me.”

  He closes his eyes and pulls me close. “I’m crazy in love with you, Ek.”

  “I’m crazy in love with you too, Jynx. You’re my everything! You’re my perfect match and I cannot wait to call you my husband,” I squeal in his arms again. “I’m going to be Mrs. Jynx Monroe!”

  “Yes, you are!”

  He sets me down and picks up my shoes. We stroll on the beach, hand in hand. “Hey, since you’re my best friend. I need to tell you a few things, J.”

  “Yeah?”

  “I’m gonna marry a biker.”

  With a deep sigh, he shakes his head and warns, “You need to be careful with those types. They can be dangerous.”

  “He’s also my stalker.”

  His head jets back as we pick on one another. “Gosh, he must be a real mess.”

  “And he abducted me!” I continue, making big eyes at him. “He kept me in a shed and did things to me in the dark and then during the day, he was a damn gentleman! I fucking fell in love with this guy!”

  With grand exaggeration, he questions, “You did?”

  “I did,” I giggle. “His first smile stole my heart.”

  He proudly snarls, trying not to break his composure. “I was only supposed to convince you to take the ad down, but …”

  “You’re a bad boy,” I interrupt with the declaration and point at him. “Admit it now. Own it. You are a bad boy!”

  “I am. You are marrying a bad boy. And I’m hitching a naughty hot young thing to the altar.”

  “I must be his excuse for a midlife crisis.”

  He rebounds, “Sugar Daddy much, brat?”

  Laughing, I bite my lip and stare at the rock on my finger. “My bad boy has really good taste in jewelry.” I grin wide, knowing how bad my cheeks are going to hurt come tonight. “I’m going to smile so much I won’t be able to suck your cock later.”

  “Like hell, bitch.”

  “Oh, God…yes!”

  “Jump!” He commands, lowering down as I leap onto his back, and he carries me piggy-back style to the house. He locks the door, and I kiss his neck.

  “I love you, Jeremiah.”

  “I love you, Abs.” He winks. He sets me on the bike and fastens the helmet on my head. “No taking it off early!” He scolds.

  I salute with my middle finger, and he snarls. He carefully drives to the road—the end of our chapter in courtship—opens her up, and we soar—flying away from the danger.

  We’ll never be apart again.

  We’re a mated pair.

  44

  So Much More

  Jynx

  For two days, I follow my future wife in her Mama-mobile across the southern United States. We spend hardly any physical time tog
ether but stay on FaceTime the whole way there. We stop in a hotel in Lafayette, and I buy her a box of cheap tacos. She gobbles them up like a good girl. We don’t make love because we’re fucking exhausted and ready to start our new life—together in a new place.

  New locale. New faces. New friends.

  Same Jynx and Echo, but without the bullshit of our past to interrupt our love. Staying brought the risk of interruption, with potentially marred bones being thrown from the closet at every turn. We were running from the skeletons as fast as we could.

  For me, it made sense to leave South Carolina. The only reason I stayed so long was because of Grandma, and somewhere deep inside my heart, I knew she wouldn’t want me living her life. She would’ve wanted me to live my own life and be making new memories, especially if I found the perfect girl.

  I did.

  And I wasn’t even looking for her.

  The next morning, we stop for coffee and kiss as I fill up our gas tanks. We drive the final four hours to Houston. Leading our way to the address, I pull up to the locked gate, and she whips around me, parking just past the driveway.

  Our new home is a hundred-year-old, red-bricked building in the rundown industrial section on the outskirts of town. The old-style sign is painted in a black rectangle at the top with giant white letters, Banks Arts & Co. I glance over to the bustling two-story warehouse across the street with a sign marked, Ever Hope.

  Stepping out of the truck, I recheck the address as Echo walks up. “… Is this it?”

  “It’s the right address,” I reply, pointing to the warehouse. “I know that for sure because my cousin grew up there. “

  “Deacon grew up in a warehouse?”

  “It used to be a clubhouse,” I inform as flashbacks of his birthdays hit. They weren’t bad ones—full of triggers, but happy times with plenty of good memories. I was four years older than him. We didn’t come to Texas often, but I remember every visit. I pull out my phone and call him.

  He answers on the first ring but says nothing. A dog barks, and a baby cries in the background. “Sorry about that,” he says, winded. “Did you make it? What can I do for you?”