Do Bad Things Read online

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  DO BAD THINGS

  Copyright © 2017, Ella Jade

  Editor: Lacey Wolfe

  All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

  www.authorellajade.com

  Do Bad Things

  By Ella Jade

  Acknowledgements

  A huge thanks to Lacey Wolfe, Tamaria Soana, Liz Castillo and Shelly Small. Without you amazing ladies working with me every step of the way I’d never get these books written.

  Thank you to the lovely Erika Lang for taking the time to do a final read for me. It makes me feel better.

  To my fantastic readers... the ones who constantly one-click and to all the new friends who have taken a chance on me. Without you I wouldn’t have any reason to tell such stories. Thanks for getting lost in my words.

  Back Cover Copy

  My mother is dying. Without the experimental trial she’ll succumb to her cancer. Our bills are out of control and I’m desperate. Desperate enough to accept a mysterious, sexy stranger’s inappropriate proposal. The terms...

  1-My body is his to do as he pleases

  2-He doesn’t care about my pleasure

  3-I say yes and I get paid

  4-Deny him one time and it all ends

  I should stop what I started, but it didn’t take long to become addicted to his forbidden touch. Now all I want is for him to do bad things...

  ***

  When did Mr. Wrong become Mr. Right?

  Jameson Clark spiraled out of control years ago. Drugs and alcohol nearly ruined his life but somehow he managed to get himself back on track. His career as a political consultant is at an all-time high but his personal life is lacking. Old habits die hard but the addictions that almost killed him must stay buried. He needs an outlet. Something to take the edge off. Sex. Unattached, no commitment sex. He’s found the perfect candidate for what he has in mind.

  Struggling legal intern Cecilia Keller’s world is crumbling around her. College debts and her mother’s medical bills are more than she can handle. Working hard seems to be getting her nowhere. No matter what she does, she can’t manage to get ahead until an intriguing stranger with a tormented soul makes her an improper offer. Straight up sex. When he wants it and how he wants it. Nothing else. No small talk, no dating, and definitely no intimacy. No one has to know he’s paying her.

  As the unlikely pair move forward neither expect for their arrangement to turn into anything more than what it is. When Cecilia becomes infatuated with Jameson she knows he can never be the one she can turn to. What happens when she breaks one of the terms of their deal? Can Jameson walk away without looking back? Just who needs who?

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter One

  Cecilia

  “Ahh...” I tried to hold back the moan that escaped my lips as I gripped the table he had me bent over.

  That first thrust though... God, what’s wrong with me? I’m getting fucked by the biggest prick in D.C. and he’s paying me. I promised myself I wouldn’t like it but I couldn’t help it.

  When he twisted his fingers in my hair and tugged, I bit my lip, trying to suppress another moan. The harder he slammed into me, the deeper he went and the wetter I became.

  Grabbing my hip in his firm grasp, he whispered into my ear. “Do you start getting wet in the elevator on your way up to me, Cecilia?”

  I didn’t answer as he pumped in and out. His rules were simple and they didn’t require conversation. When he propositioned me outside the cafe where I worked two weeks ago he made it extremely clear what he wanted. I found his smug demeanor intriguing the few times he came into the shop. He’d always been polite, but looked as if he was sizing me up for something.

  “If you agree to this,” he said. “And I believe you will.” His kissable lips curved into a devious smirk. “My rules, my playpen.”

  “Nothing weird, right?”

  “Depends on your definition of weird.”

  The only reason I even considered what he offered was because I needed the money. Everyone needed more money. I mean who didn’t want more? But I really needed the money. It was a life or death situation.

  “I want straight up sex. When I want it and how I want it. No small talk, no dates, and no intimacy. I text and you come.” He smirked again and his meaning wasn’t lost on me. “Maybe. That doesn’t really matter to me. I get off and you get paid. If you turn me down once then it all ends.”

  He pushed his sunglasses up, resting them over his perfectly styled, dark hair. His smoldering green eyes bore into mine, and as awkward as this conversation was, I hung on his every word. As if they were the only thing that mattered. I’d been in this man’s company a handful of times. When he asked me to join him outside so he could ask me something, I should have slapped him over his indecent proposal. Instead, it took him less than ten minutes to persuade me to say yes. Like I said, life or death, and desperate people did desperate things.

  “When do you get wet for me, gorgeous?” His silky, authoritative voice brought me back to the moment. The moment I shouldn’t be enjoying, but I was seconds away from exploding and he knew it. “Is it when you get my text?” He slipped his hand under my dress and squeezed my breast. “The one that tells you to drop everything and let me fuck you?”

  Bingo! My legs tightened and before I could will myself to stop, I spiraled out of control, unraveling in his hold giving in to every forbidden desire he represented. Why did I give him the satisfaction of my climax every time? This was supposed to be business.

  “Predictable.” He tugged my head back and gazed into my eyes. “So predictable.”

  I swallowed back my shame and let him finish. I’d be out of here in a few minutes and I could forget about this meeting. Like that would happen. Jameson Clark wasn’t forgettable. I found myself checking my phone for his message a hundred times a day. The days when he didn’t summon me were the hardest. Not because I wouldn’t be making a hefty sum of money for twenty minutes of my time, but because I wouldn’t see him. He was my escape. My
addiction.

  His breathing intensified as he increased his relentless tempo. With a firm grasp on my breast, he let out a guttural moan, filling the condom. The warmth of his release gave me a sense of twisted pride. This man had changed me in a matter of weeks. I couldn’t say if it was for the better, but I had certainly changed.

  I hugged the sleek wood table, noting the smudges my fingerprints left in his lavish foyer. With my backside exposed to him, I didn’t breathe as he stepped away from me and adjusted his pants, raising the zipper. He tossed an envelope by the side of my face and headed for the staircase.

  “Leave through the service entrance,” he ordered.

  Don’t I always?

  Our visits were becoming routine. I waited until he was upstairs before I moved. Pulling my dress down, I stood straight and searched for my panties. I wouldn’t find them. I never did. I slid the envelope from the table, knowing I didn’t have to look inside. He was a man of his word and the thousand, dispensed in ten crisp one-hundred dollar bills, would be in there.

  Just before I exited, the sound of the pipes filling with water echoed from above. He was washing away our encounter. I’d be doing the same once I got home. The odd thing was, he didn’t make me feel dirty and that bothered me.

  ***

  Thirty minutes later I was back at my own apartment. I’d been gone a little over an hour. It took me longer to get there and back then it did to have sex. I shook it off, tucking any thought of Jameson away for now. I’d think about him later. Usually just before I drifted off to sleep.

  “Hey.” Carla, the lovely woman who lived across the street from me, stepped out of my mom’s room. “She’s asleep.”

  “Did she eat?” I asked in a hopeful voice.

  “She wasn’t hungry.”

  “She never is.” I sighed. “Thanks for checking on her while I was gone.”

  “You know I don’t mind,” she said. “She was awake for a bit so we had a nice conversation.”

  “Good.” When I pushed my hair behind my ear, the memory of him pulling it as he thrust inside me flashed before my eyes. Stop it! “Did she say anything about that trial the doctor told us about? I think we’re going to do it.”

  “Really?” Carla seemed skeptical. “Your mom said it would add some additional expenses and that maybe...” Carla didn’t finish her thought, but she didn’t have to.

  “I’ve been saving and picking up all sorts of extra shifts at the, um, cafe.”

  “No amount of extra shifts will pay for what she needs.”

  “You’d be surprised.” I just made eight grand in two weeks. “I have a little money saved.”

  “Keep your optimism.” Carla put her arm around me. “Your mom needs it.” She pointed to the kitchen. “I made chicken soup. It’s in the fridge.”

  I hugged her. “I don’t know what we’d do without you.”

  “I’m happy to help in any way I can.” She glanced at my mom’s door. “I’m praying for you both.”

  “Thanks.” I waved as she stepped onto the porch. “Talk to you tomorrow.” Closing the door, I leaned against it, composing myself. It had been a long week, but I wanted to check on my mom before calling it a night.

  Pushing the door open to her room, I peeked in. Her eyes were closed, the TV on in the background. The nightstand covered with various medicine bottles. None of them offered a cure. Her cancer had spread and as positive as I wanted to be, my heart told me it was almost time.

  “Is that you, CC?”

  “Yeah.” I entered the room. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

  “You didn’t.” She patted the side of the bed, so I took a seat. “Where did you go?”

  “To see about a job.”

  “You already have two.” She shook her head. “You’re working so hard.”

  “I don’t mind, Mom.” I worked at the cafe on the weekends but during the week I interned for a local senator. I’d been with him since college, hoping he’d offer me a higher paying position. At the very least, I’d been networking and keeping my ears open to new opportunities. “I’m going to call the doctor tomorrow and tell him we’re ready to move forward with that experimental trial he talked about. He said you were a good candidate for it.”

  “About that.” She opened her eyes. “I’m too tired to discuss it now but I think I’m going to reconsider that.”

  “What do you mean?” The emerging doom that had been plaguing me all week resurfaced. The only time I seemed to forget just how sick my mom was, and I hated to admit this, was when I was with Jameson.

  “I mean it might not be the right course for me.”

  “If you’re worried about the money, don’t be. I don’t care if insurance doesn’t cover everything.” It wasn’t just about the money, but I didn’t want to accept what she was trying to tell me. “You focus on getting better and I’ll handle the rest.”

  “Okay.” She smiled, too tired to fight me. “You’re a good kid. I’m proud of you.”

  Would you still be proud if you knew what I’m doing in my spare time?

  “Good night.” She closed her eyes. “Maybe tomorrow I’ll feel up to sitting outside.”

  “That would be great.”

  As I watched her take slow, quiet breaths I wondered how many more she had left in her. Yes, desperate people did desperate things...

  Chapter Two

  Jameson

  Glancing at my watch, I tried to occupy my mind. My political consultant firm was booming. I’d had requests for new candidates on a daily basis. What started out as a small experiment two years ago turned into one of the most successful firms in the D.C. area. Hundreds of potential senators, governors, and presidents wanted my attention. I had to expand my staff last month and I needed to hire more. I personally couldn’t take on every client. I sought out those who I knew I could make win. I could do whatever I wanted with the marketing and the data, but if I didn’t think a candidate had what it took, why waste my time?

  I picked up my cell, debating. It had been two days since my last visit with Cecilia Keller. What started out as something I thought I’d do a couple of times to get it out of my system had become a full-blown addiction. I didn’t know why that surprised me given my personality. One or two times was never enough once I got a taste for something spectacular. Ms. Keller was certainly spectacular.

  Gazing out of my office window, overlooking Capitol Hill, I lost myself in her. Recalling how stunning she always appeared when she showed up at my place. A hint of confidence in her flustered face as she tried not to look into my eyes. There was nothing overstated about her. No expensive clothes or shoes. She never wore jewelry. Her nails were natural and her luscious, long blonde hair tumbled over her shoulders and down her back. It smelled of vanilla. She was nothing like the trust-fund women I’d grown accustomed to my whole life. Socialites, politician’s daughters. Women who sought me out because I was exactly who their daddies told them to stay away from. Those same men who would do anything to have me represent them today.

  Scrolling through my contacts, I stopped when I got to Cecilia's name. I promised myself I’d give us some space. Although dropping a grand on her was a lot safer than what I used to do with that cash. I partied hard and made a shit-ton of mistakes. Somehow I managed to fight the demons of my youth. I stopped drinking and snorting two years ago, but I struggled with temptation every day. When I saw her in that cafe a few months ago, she became my latest obsession. I’d never meant to go as far as I had with her. I expected her to turn me down and then I could get on with my life. When that shy beauty said yes to my filthy proposition, I couldn’t control myself. I thought I could limit my time with her to once a week, but the more we were together the more I needed. Booze and cocaine may no longer have been my vices but now I was addicted to her. At thirty, I thought I had my shit together.

  “Hey.” My brother, Miles, tapped on my door. “You have a minute?”

  “Is it going to piss me off?” I leaned back in my cha
ir.

  “It might.” He laughed. “But everything pisses you off, so...”

  “Shut the door.”

  He plopped down on the chair across from my desk and tossed a file at me.

  “What is it?” I stared at the folder. “A new prospect?”

  “Possibly.” Miles scrolled on his tablet, pulling up a website and showed it to me. “Remember last week when Dad mentioned his friend Michael Hayes?”

  “Yeah, his son, Conrad, is eyeing up a senate seat.” The guy didn’t have a chance. He was far too arrogant and didn’t have the temperament to listen to me. “He doesn’t have what it takes to go all the way.”

  “His file is impressive,” Miles said. “He looks good on paper.”

  “I know what the file says.” I’d done my preliminary research because my father was going to make me consider Conrad as a client. “It’s not worth my time.”

  “You gonna tell Dad?”

  I clasped my hands and rested my chin on them, pondering my options. They were slim. My father had always been there for me. Even when I screwed up and I screwed up a lot. He supported my choices and helped me chase this dream of mine even after I embarrassed the family.

  “No.” I sighed. “I’m going to put you on it for now. Conrad is months out from actually running for anything. We have time. You begin the process and I’ll reevaluate in a few weeks. We can meet with him after I see what you dig up.”

  “Okay.” He stood and headed for the door. “A few of us are going to grab something to eat if you want to come.”

  “Thanks.” Miles always tried to include me with the guys but ever since I left rehab it was just easier for me to avoid certain situations. “I have a ton of work to catch up on.”

  “It’s just dinner.”

  “Go.” I nodded toward the door. “Have a good time. You don’t have to babysit me. I’m the older brother, remember?” I recently hit thirty but I felt a lot older than that. Too many years of partying had taken their toll on me.