Page 6 of The Queen's Joker

I can’t be that person, though. The look I see on her face right now solidifies that. She looks haunted. After that night, watching her somehow changed my taste for sex. Not all the way, but I have to dominate now. I have to be in charge. My needs are to fuck and not make love. Queen deserves someone who can give her the love she deserves. She deserves everything. I will always be here to ensure that’s what she gets.

We drive in silence, neither knowing what to say to each other. When we pull up to Nick’s shop, the lights are on. I know this will be pricey, but Queen is worth every penny. I would book out of his entire schedule for weeks if it helped. Feelings suck, and I hate sharing my feelings with anyone, but for my Queen, I will. “Look, Queen, I get the bugs crawling. There is shit from my life I don’t talk about. This is how I get them to stop. Pain makes me feel better. If you don’t want to, you don’t have to. What I just witnessed, you need it too, I think.” It’s a hunch, but she needs an outlet. Worst comes to worse, she gets a butterfly tattooed on her ass, and we move on with life.

I exit the car, walk to her side, open the door, and take her hand. I lead her through the glass front door. A tired Nick sits, his dark red hair bundled in a topknot. “Okay, for her, only double. If it was you, triple.” He reaches for her hand and kisses her knuckles. My jaw clinches but relaxes when Queen laughs.

“What will it be, love?” He motions over to his work, showing her what he does.

“Where on my arms will it hurt the most?” Oh fuck, I am about to create a monster.

Chapter eight

My job now entails desk duty, training, and recruiting. I love training new people to be on the Hearts—one-on-one with girls and guys who need the pointers. Plus, I can cultivate relationships now and make the Hearts the best team at the Deck. All my people need to know a little of everything. I help other groups as well. We all do, but there is a bit of competition between all of us. That’s a lie. There is a lot of competition. There are a lot of girls on my team, and I want them to be badasses in their own right. Self-defense, combat, and weapons are now more of a core feature because I don’t want anyone caught off guard. My brothers were all supportive of me stepping back from fieldwork, at least the sex part of fieldwork. I think they were all a little relieved, nothing like watching or hearing about your sister having sex with marks. Not that any of them would slut shame me, of course.

It isn’t like the Hearts only do sex. Sometimes, it is listening, flirting, or even blending into the crowd to learn information when people’s tongues are loosened over drinks. Once, I had to have a pretend date next to another couple’s table to listen in. Our job is always changing, and no two missions are alike. I like to tell my recruits that we are secret gathers. Intimate doesn’t always mean sex. Attention from a beautiful man or woman is sometimes all it takes.

I wasn’t sure if I would enjoy desk duty, but I loved it. Plus, it isn’t all desk-oriented, but it feels like I get to make a difference in the lives of my people. It also thrills Ace about that aspect and takes some pressure off him. The man thought he had to shoulder all the Deck’s burdens alone. We all are capable. He doesn’t enjoy ordering us around unless he has to—especially me. That annoys me, but it pushes me to do more.

I didn’t play with Barbies when I was little. Mother wouldn’t have allowed that. Instead, we would run strategies with army men. She had members of cartels, the mafia, military generals, and officials who owed her favors that taught us everything. She created her own personal army generals with her children. We were the clay, and she molded us to how she saw fit. What she didn’t expect was how much we hated her. Yes, we competed, and she would reward those who did well and punish the ones that disappointed her. What she didn’t know was we took care of each other. We were all each other had while plotting behind her back. Nothing bonds people together as much as mutual hate.

Ace hasn’t been the same since Tess left. He got hit with a double whammy. My assault, then getting back home only to learn she left, she saw an opportunity to leave and took it. Her note stated that it had been fun, but she saw a way out, and she was taking it. She alluded that another man helped her leave, which hit Ace’s ego hard. He left for a mission right before I did, and he got back early, but then had to look for me. His head has been all fucked up since. He’s been trying to find her every free minute, and I keep wanting to tell him it’s a lost cause. Like the note said, she saw a way out and took it. She is too soft for this life. It isn’t for the weak. From what I saw, her home life was rough, and she deserved a happy one away from it all. I did like seeing the change in Ace. She was his sunshine while he was a dark, looming cloud promising destruction.

When I am not working, I am getting tattooed. Is it the healthiest form of therapy? Nope, but did I give a shit? Also, no. That is the only time I have seen or spent with Joker lately. I miss my friend. That’s what he is—my best friend, who has always friendzoned me.

I fucking hate the friend zone. Other than missions, he and I have a don’t ask, don’t tell policy about who we fuck. Honestly, if I knew who he was sleeping with, I would arrange their deaths. Any woman that he gets entangled with, it is safer for them to remain faceless. Thinking about it gets my blood boiling, and I want to stab someone.

Part of me wants to take advantage of him in a moment of weakness, but I can’t do that to him. Also, I don’t want to open that door, knowing firsthand how it feels to have it destroyed. I have things to distract me, at least. Hunting down Mother, it feels like she is always on the horizon, waiting to see a sign of happiness before she destroys it. I cannot help but wonder what it would be like to be like to say fuck it. I want to jump on Joker and tell him he is mine. Before running away, never to return. Ace walks into the room, pulling me from my thoughts. “I need a favor.” He throws his phone and keys on my desk.

“Well, hello to you too, brother. Yes, I am doing well.” I smirk while narrowing my eyes. “I appreciate you asking. Oh, how I love these little chats we have.” I lean back against my chair and stretch while putting my combat boots on the desk, crossing my ankles, and placing my hands behind my head. “It warms my heart right up. Do you need something?” I tilt my head, smiling up at his scowling face.

“First off, fuck you.” He pauses, and I flutter my eyelashes at him. His eyes roll before he shoots daggers at me. The man didn’t eat his Wheaties this morning.

“Oh, you’re trying to butter me up! Continue. I love the direction this is going.” I beam up at him like he has been paying me nothing but compliments for the last minute.

He shakes his head, not even cracking a smile. The dark circles under his eyes signal he hasn’t been sleeping again. “Second, it doesn’t matter how you are currently, because I need a favor.” He smirks, clearly needing to untwist his panties, which are in a bunch. I motioned him to proceed with his request because I didn’t have all day. “Joker’s card is in play currently. He won’t answer my calls, so I need you to call him. Then, I need you to accompany him on the mission. Be his handler for me.” I would love to have him tell Joker he needs a handler and how our most deadly assassin needs a babysitter on missions to keep him in line. Does Ace have a point? Yes. The man, no matter how much training, can’t sometimes stop. He needs someone to pull him back from the darkness.

He is only asking because Joker is my best friend. I usually can talk some sense into him. Either way, I pull out the phone and call Joker. It rings once, then twice. He sounds out of breath when he answers, and I hear crying in the background, along with water running. She even cries pretty. I close my eyes and just tell myself that he is torturing someone, not fucking them. Maybe one day, I will believe the lies I tell myself.

“Queen?” The onslaught of thoughts that flash through my mind makes me grip my cell phone tighter. “Queen?” Joker says again, a little louder this time.

“Yeah. You’re needed. Your card is in play. Ace wants us both to go,” I say, talking quickly, my voice having no emotion other than a slight edge. My brain is malfunctioning, and I wish he had sent me to his voicemail. When I hear more sobs coming from his end, I hang up the phone. The damn thing feels like a weight in my hand, and I almost launch it against the wall. Instead, I toss the phone onto my desk. Pushing my chair back, I reach into the drawer and pull out my pistol. Some targets will die tonight before I have to deal with Joker.

Chapter nine

Broken Siren is one of my favorites, and she is always eager for an extra session, so she will come at a moment’s notice if Malcolm calls. The amount of pain she needs is more than anyone I have ever encountered. When I first read her bio, she divulged a lot about the reasoning. The woman clearly wanted people not to think she was crazy or needed to be committed. Did she probably need to be put on a psychic hold? Maybe? It could go either way. I wasn’t here to be her psychologist. No, I am here to fuck away her demons. She had such a fucked up childhood, only receiving love, attention, and affection when she got hurt, followed up by being sexually abused. I’m at least proud of her for seeking what she needed now rather than with some random man. It is safer here at the BowTied with me or the other doms she sees. Especially when she cries so hard after she cums. Most might find that disturbing, but I love the tears.

After all my sessions with her, I know exactly how far to push her limits, and I love doing so. We have a session together at least twice a month. She wants more. I know she wants to be exclusive, but that isn’t me. Nobody will get that from me; I have rules that others and I must follow. My lovely Broken Siren’s hands are above her head, and the metal cuffs are around her wrists. Only the tips of her toes hit the floor below.

Her mask has black, blue, and purple scales adorning it, fully embracing her name. Stepping back, I look at my handy work, knowing I will have to let her down soon to hate fuck her. Her breasts are a small C cup if I had to guess; her light pink nipples are now angry and red. I enjoy looking at the crisscross marks adorning them from my whip. Her ass has welts from my hands.

“Look at you, panting like a bitch in heat.” It is true. Her wetness is dripping down her thighs. I reach between them, running my fingers through her folds before smacking her pussy like she is a bad girl. She moans, and it’s like music to my ears. “Tell me what you need.” My voice cuts off her moan.

“Please, give me your cock, master.” I pet her head as a reward for her manners of submission.

Without warning, I release her from the chain above her head, and I watch as she falls to the ground in a heap. She pulls herself to her knees and looks down, waiting for the next command. “Crawl to the couch, hands on the back. Knees on cushions, ass out.”

She crawls to the couch like the good girl she wants to be. Broken Siren wants to belong to someone; I hope she finds that. She arches her back and flips her dark hair back. At BowTied, you must do STD testing so often, but even with that, I always use condoms. I don’t even take my clothes off as I pull my cock from my pants. My fingers slide into my pocket, pulling the foil square out before ripping it open and rolling the condom down my length.

It’s always the same with every woman I fuck, with me having to pretend they are my Queen, so I only fuck brunettes. Many women who want to be on my list dye their hair. I love the power I have over them. However, every woman I fuck is a poor replacement for the one I want. Even though she has used coconut scents, it smells wrong on her. My anger rises, but I keep myself in check. It’s not her fault she is a poor substitute for the one I want. I give her ass a smack, and she arches back, and I fist her hair at the back of her scalp.