Beautiful Things Evil People Do

by Kailee Reese Samuels

  “Personnel files.”

  “… All of them?” she queries, and I nod. “I do this for you, and you ship me down the river to work under Eddie, I will skin your pretty hide, boy.”

  “Yes, Queen D.”

  “Ohhhh, Honeychild! We’re a match made in heaven!” She smirks, typing with her three-inch talons. “That’s what I’m talking about. They’re sending to your remote email now.”

  “Thank you.”

  “I want a relocation package,” she negotiates like a capable opponent. “And three weeks of vacation, first year.”

  “How about a company car?”

  “Yes! Something fast!” She silently claps her hands and grins wide. “Houston?”

  “Yes, Ma’am, you’re moving as my executive assistant,” I say, walking toward the elevator. “Thank you.”

  “Hey, Jynx?” she yells, and I pivot back. “Thanks for the chance.”

  “Anytime, pretty lady.”

  “Let me get this straight,” Axel says in my office at nine o’clock later that same day. “You’re going to steal his talent and hire Wang to keep them in line?”

  “I’m only hiring the best,” I reply as Echo giggles on the sofa, making a list of possible candidates. “I can’t let Eddie destroy that many lives. And Wang is more than qualified.”

  “But you don’t even want the business,” he argues in the chair across from me. “That is why we’re selling our people and clients off to Dower.”

  “Things change. His contract will never hold. Our specific agreement was between Theodore Dower and J.A. Monroe; he isn’t competent. Therefore, it is null and void. And I can find countless witnesses to prove that if I legally need to. As for being a hero, it’s not about that. It never was. It’s about facts. Teddy isn’t functioning on all cylinders, and I believe Eddie is using his father as a figurehead, a fucking puppet, to run both businesses into the ground.”

  “You don’t have to be the hero, Jynx.”

  “Yeah,” Echo chimes in as I stare at her beauty under the dim office lights. “He does. If you paid any attention to your brother at all, you would see that he is a compassionate, empathetic soul. If people from Peacock, former Monroe employees, lose their jobs, Jynx will wear that like a scar on his soul forever.”

  Axel doesn’t react to her statement. “Why would Eddie want to lose Dower?”

  “That,” I reply, tapping my pencil on the desk. “I don’t know. But my best guess is—he’s talking to a bigger fish about buying it.”

  “I’m going to eat, can I bring you two crazy kids anything?”

  “I already ordered Chinese for pick up in an hour,” Echo responds, not even looking up. Axel glances at me and nods with—Damn, you did good, bro.

  “Ms. Maines?” Axel says, approaching my girl. “I want to apologize for my teenage pranks.”

  “I accept your apology, but if you do it again, I will kick your ass,” she says as I smirk, holding back a laugh. “As your future sister-in-law, I suggest you straighten your act up.”

  “Yes, Ma’am.”

  Wow.

  “And Axel, keep your dick out of anyone less than twenty-five.”

  “But…” he argues, and I chuckle.

  “It doesn’t need to make sense,” she replies, moving the stack of papers to the long table on the wall. “There are exceptions to every rule. And I’m Jynx’s one.”

  “Fair enough.” With his hands tucked in his pockets, he bows slightly and heads for the door. “Goodnight, you two! Congratulations on Peacock and the upcoming nuptials!”

  I stare at Echo in the black pencil skirt and pink blouse. Her hair is pulled into a bun—formal this morning, but with the past few hours of work, tendrils fell around her face, softening her graceful edges even more. “You just told my brother that I was going to be Mr. Maines.”

  “I did,” she says, smiling. “I wholeheartedly believe everything you’ve said to me, Mr. Monroe.”

  “Lock the door.”

  She strides over and flips the latch. “Anything else, Master Jynx?”

  Stroking several days worth of whiskers, I grin. “Turn off the light.” She clicks the switch, and the glow of the skyline pours shadows into my office. “Anything else?“

  “Take off your lovely blouse, Ms. Maines.”

  She runs her hands over the dainty buttons and walks closer. “Should I hike my skirt and bend over the desk now?”

  “Yes.” I lick my lips as she moves to my side and leans over. My mouth waters at the sight of black lace panties framed by garters and stockings. “Damn, you know how to wrap a present.”

  “If I don’t enjoy this, can I file a complaint with HR?”

  “Oh, yeah, baby,” I say, swatting her ass.

  “God!” Her lip trembles as she moans, “Fuck me, Boss.”

  “Are you happy now?” I ask, unbuckling my belt and pulling it through the loops. “Be honest with me.”

  “About Peacock?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’m very happy,” she slowly mutters, eyeing the belt. “At everything you’re thinking about doing.”

  “This is going to sting.”

  “I know.” Her voice hitches. “Do it anyway.”

  “I wasn’t asking for encouragement,” I growl, snapping the leather against her ass. “I was doing it regardless.”

  She sensually whispers, “… Jynx?”

  “Yes, babygirl?”

  “The panties are crotchless.”

  I spank her even harder for being a naughty little thing.

  With rapid, successive strikes, I deliver the pain to send her flying, soaring into the flickering starry skies and grounding out the craziness of my day.

  I need her, and she needs me.

  “Are you creaming those thighs, Darlin’?”

  She arches her hips back, offering a delectable view of sultry legs and taut ass encased in nothing more than a playboy’s delight. The four-inch stilettos aren’t hurting either.

  “You should explore and find out for yourself.”

  My hand grabs the round curve of her ass, rubbing and kneading. She’ll be bruised by morning, unable to sit down comfortably—every grimace and wince from her lips will fuel my throbbing erection.

  We never stop.

  We are cyclical, unstoppable.

  “I heard that!” she yelps as my zipper glides down. I laugh, understanding how the nuisances matter. I rub the serrated metal edge against her ass. “I know what’s coming!”

  “Me…in about five minutes…if you don’t stop rocking those hips like a cat in heat.”

  “Fuck me, J…stick your dick in my tight, wet hole and give it all to me.”

  I shake my head. “This is about to get sloppy as fuck.”

  “Yes!” She bounces, accidentally bumping into the tip and using her newfound knowledge of my exact location to grind her ass against me. “Make me dirty!”

  “Dear God, I’m going to hell for this.”

  “Not without me!”

  Placing my hand on the middle of her back, I ease in nice and slow. “Are you pulling your precious car into the garage?”

  “No,” I snicker, seating deep inside of her flood and dropping my hands to her hips. I pound her good for a minute or two. She groans and moves back to meet each impactful marker. Papers scatter onto the floor. Pens roll away—it’s neither clean nor neat. I pull out fast and twirl her around to me before picking her up and plopping her ass down on my desk. This desk will never be the same. “I’m flooring it all the way across the country for a girl I cannot get enough of…”

  “Jesus, don’t make me fucking cry!”

  I laugh, thrusting inside of her puddle again. Her legs wind around my body like a spider consuming its prey.

  The prey is me.

  I stalked her to offer myself as a sacrifice.

  And no one needs to know.

  I pray she feasts in my love for the rest of her days.

  Fucking her on my desk is part of tha
t.

  Our bodies slam against one another, finding the greater purpose to it all. And without warning, my kinky scene turns spiritually tantric—I can’t be without this girl.

  Her brilliant, luminous vibe sheds my obscure tenebrosity.

  “If I asked you to marry me in Vegas in two weeks, what would you say?”

  “I’d say, I’ll need a ring, Mr. Monroe.”

  Get me out of here.

  Before she sets my monster free.

  35

  The Threat

  Echo

  A week later, I’m in a rental car with Jynx riding to Tucson for the weekend. Friday night traffic is bumper-to-bumper as we finally leave Phoenix, but I sit quietly, using the time to reflect on my life since I posted the ad. Red taillights blur in my vision as the upheavals of the past year capsize any hope of a delightful journey.

  He could have been any man willing to harm, but this one-man snuck into my life. The longer I think about it, the more peculiar it seems that one of the world’s unluckiest girls would strike gold with Jeremiah Abaddon Monroe.

  What were the odds?

  He’s either the grand conductor of a masterful orchestration or a brilliantly diabolical, well-packaged man with a criminal mindset. Neither one is easy to digest, and my belly turns queasy.

  This man wants to have children with me.

  Is he everything I hoped for in a husband?

  Have I been blind to the truth as we explored the kinship found in the kinky nooks of my mind?

  I push the fear away because conjuring in my head doesn’t make the imagery real. I’ll play my part until his lies run dry or he loves me enough to drop on one knee.

  I don’t seek the truth.

  I found the perfect man with his voracious, dark appetite, and lost myself.

  Air fills my lungs with a deep breath as he side-glances checking on me. I politely smile, crossing my fingers that my eyes fake the pleasantries one more time. I crave fleeing the scene, not that I ever would. I contemplate leaving. I dream about escaping his grasp. I question every little thing until I’m sick and miserable.

  And I hide it all.

  He’s been discreetly sweet-talking Dower employees into working for Peacock, proving he isn’t beyond causing strife. He will do whatever it takes for the good of people, even a girl posting a stupid rape ad. He’s yet to confront Eddie with his suspicions, but that doesn’t surprise me. He avoids the battle, saving souls from his fury.

  Wang is super excited and already in Texas scouting possible locations. Jynx doesn’t want to use the building from Sal and Deacon for the headquarters.

  He claims it is our space.

  His hand is on my thigh as we fly down the highway. He’s wearing sunglasses, a t-shirt, and jeans—sexy and dangerous as fuck. I’ve grown accustomed to his confident air in slacks and dress shirts. Today’s attire sets off an emotional blizzard, sending me back to a rural farm in South Carolina where he was a calculated monster I chose to escape my life with. Maybe he played me.

  With a shiver silencing the demons, I randomly blurt out, “What are you doing with the peacocks?”

  He tilts his head and glares over the top rim of his shades. “Depends on you.”

  “… Me?”

  “Yeah,” he says, exiting the highway. “If you like Texas and want to move there, I’ll relocate the cocks.” He winks.

  “I hope you plan on taking the fowl too,” I rebuke, glancing around at the new surroundings. “Or you’ll have some angry fucking cocks.”

  He laughs. “You’ve never been to Tucson.”

  “I’ve never been to Texas either,” I add, smiling. His carefree attitude makes me happy, and we have fun, so how can it be that this guy possesses deranged merciless thoughts and still manages to be this charming for this long? “How do you know?”

  “Because you’re very curious about your surroundings. Whenever you’re someplace new, you get this excited glimmer in your eye. I can’t wait to show you everything in my world.”

  “I’m a little nervous. I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” I admit, rubbing his hand. “You mentioned taking me to the club. I’m worried about being sized up and seen as less than. I’m afraid I’ll never be good enough.”

  “You shouldn’t feel that way,” he assures, but his words do little to calm me. “You don’t have to attend the meeting.”

  My lips contort from a smile to a frown to an undecided anxious sawing of my teeth against my pouty swollen lips. “You want to put me on display before people who have done this for years.”

  “I don’t mind parading you around, but it’s not necessary for me. If you want to go to the club, I’ll take you. You need to remember, everyone started somewhere, Echo. No one expects you to know how to do everything. Be the submissive you are for me. Hell, you were great under Deacon’s care.”

  That’s just it—Deacon cared.

  I cannot imagine all Masters come preloaded with human decency.

  “He was smooth though,” I argue, struggling with the idea of gussying up in fetish wear to sit by his side at a business meeting. I’m not a fool. This isn’t a black-tie affair; others will be scantily dressed as well. Though I’m not sure, that makes it any better. “Not everyone is Deacon Cruz.”

  “I won’t argue that,” he says, backing down. I hope he understands this isn’t about him—but them. “But you do not have to go.”

  “But you’re going…”

  “Because I’m meeting with one of the primary investors in Peacock,” he says, clenching my hand. “You don’t have to join me.”

  “If I don’t go, I look rude or worse, uninterested in your work.”

  Or I’m jealous of girls who are more than capable of stealing what is mine.

  I fought for him—Not them.

  Master Jynx is mine.

  I must defend my base.

  And yes, I do mean THAT base.

  I’ve never had a boyfriend. My itch to be his arm candy companion is fierce. I want to be the girlfriend he shows off because I’m worth it. I long to shout to the world that we’re in love and doing this—he and I—despite all the differences, but to do that, I must find the courage to buck up and be present in all areas of his life.

  The desire to be his everything manifests from caring for the farm to organizing the Peacock clients, and I yearn to present myself as his slave in a public setting. I also understand that he is serious about transitioning to an active member of Reckless Rebellion and that will put my ass in the bitch seat. I must deal with that too. But one thing at a time.

  I want to have the complete Jynx Monroe package, but fuck if it’s not hard.

  I’ve never seen myself as a sexual being, and going to the club comes with certain sensual promiscuity. Engaging in our kink behind closed doors is one thing; putting ourselves out there—presenting our D/s dynamic—is closely akin to exhibitionism. And I’m not sure I could actually do that in a room full of complete strangers. A few of his brothers? Sure. An unknown crowd? I doubt it.

  With clammy hands, I whisper, “Will I be expected to listen to other Dominants?”

  “Not unless they ask for my permission,” he informs with mature guidance—using the same voice that could talk me through anything. “You’re my collared submissive,” he reminds me as I breathe a sigh of relief. “You came to me about Deacon. Not the other way around.”

  “I’ll think about it.”

  “What are we eating for dinner tonight?” He segues away from the uncomfortable discussion. I grin wide. “Tacos it is. Do you want traditional Tex-Mex or can we go out on a limb with some fusion?”

  With my mind and heart in overdrive, I point out, “You sound so…taco technical.”

  “I’m a technical kind of guy. And I take tacos very seriously.”

  I blush as his eyes, which say so much about the unspoken flirtation, immerse into my soul. “We’re not having this conversation, Jynx.”

  “What?” He chuckles, knowing he has me.
“I’m a techie and a taco connoisseur now. There was no innuendo.”

  “Maybe not from your lips, but your pretty blue eyes say otherwise.” His mischievous smile spurs on my laughter as I clench his hand. He parks the car at a seedy-looking dive. “This looks beneath you.”

  “Remember who I am.”

  “… A pervert with a pain fetish?”

  Shaking his head, he exits the vehicle and warns, “I swear I’m spanking you when we get to the hotel.”

  “Yum. Tacos.”

  Jynx

  “How is the shark?”

  “Freaking delicious,” she brags, offering a bite to me. I kiss her hand and take a small nibble as she challenges, “You can do better.”

  “If I do better, you’ll get mad.”

  “Bite my fucking taco, J.” I snap my teeth around the shell and steal a mammoth mouthful. “You just ate a quarter of my taco!”

  I point at her as I chew and swallow. She gloats, proud of herself. “I told you! It doesn’t matter that you ordered four and will never eat all of that.”

  “I might, they’re really good!”

  “You’ll eat them after midnight when I’m finished having my way with you,” I counter, grinning. She squeals, and I bump her leg. “I’ve fed you tacos for three months, I know how you are—possessive.”

  “Sounds like someone else I know,” she giggles, wiping her mouth. “What are the odds you would let another Dominant borrow me?”

  “Slim to none,” I rudely garble, covering my mouth. Some things must be said immediately. Fuck manners. After wiping my mouth, I clasp my hands together and instruct, “You’re young. I understand there is a certain curiosity with things like the rope, and I’m willing to allow you to safely explore those avenues with my presence under a Dominant I trust. But you—going off with any other Dom alone?—will never happen. You will not be borrowed or lent out or passed around—ever.”

  “Because you don’t trust me.”

  Gulping back my beer, I quickly reply, “No, because I don’t trust them. That was my cousin. Different argument.”