All Esme could think about was touching him again.
All she could think about was consuming him.
“Don’t thank me for helping you. I’m doing it for selfish reasons,” She said hastily as she pressed her mouth to his and slid one hand down the front of his boxer briefs.
They were green, almost the same color as his eyes.
His skin was hot to the touch and his muscles bunched as her hand slid further south, but he didn't move to stop her. As she looked up at him, his crooked mouth quirked into a small smile. He ran his fingers through her hair, pushing the dark strands out of her eyes.
Esme ran her fingers along his thighs, taking her time to make sure she kissed every patch of scar tissue she came across. When their gazes met again, he was watching her though heavy lids; he wanted her, and she could see it written all over his handsome face.
“We can stop,” He assured her.
Esme almost laughed at the absurdity of such an idea, but she held it in as she tugged his boxers down, not bothering to make sure they made it all the way down his thighs before she nuzzled the skin just next to his hard dick. He was thick and hard and long enough to remind her of what it felt like to be a real woman; a thoroughly fucked woman.
Prettyboy’s hold on her hair tightened as she wrapped her hands around him and licked him from base to tip. The breathy gasp that escaped his mouth was motivation enough for her to keep going. She hollowed her cheeks and damn near swallowed him whole, all the while combating the fire between her thighs that told her she was more than ready to have him.
To feel a bone deep connection with him.
To let him love her.
“Fuck, that feels so good,” Prettyboy gasped as he leaned down to cup her heavy breasts in his rough hands. He rolled her nipples between his fingers, causing her to moan. The vibrations in the back of her throat had him gripping her even tighter as his cock jerked. Esme hummed again, enjoying the rapt attention he was giving her; there was no one else in the world besides the two of them in that moment.
His lusty green eyes were practically melting her all on their own as he fucked her mouth. Esme’s own fingers found their way between her thighs as her pussy clenched with need; it’d been a long time since she’d been with a man, and her body was all too keen to remind her.
I’m so fucking wet.
He has no idea how badly I need him.
Esme was jerked back to reality when he suddenly lifted her to her feet and wrapped his arms around her.
Esme’s mouth fused to his instantly; they kissed, they tasted, they shared one pulse for what felt like an eternity before he slowly laid her out across the bundle of leather he’d laid out minutes earlier.
“I can’t wait another second to have you, Esme,” He whispered huskily.
She nodded, her gaze glued to his.
From his position above her she could see every scar, every line of scorched flesh.
Esmeralda cupped his face and grazed his crooked bottom lip with the pad of her thumb.
“I could fall in love with you,” She whispered honestly.
His eyes closed at her words, his shoulders relaxing, his nose running along the inside of her wrist affectionately.
“I could fall in love with you too, Esmeralda Quinn.”
Esme liked that he didn't say the words; she liked that he didn't rush her.
Prettyboy spread her thighs wide with his, and she stopped him.
“What about your leg, baby?”
He wrapped an arm around her back and brought her closer to him, so there was no space separating them.
“I don’t give a fuck about my leg, Esme. I want to please you.”
She didn't have a response to that because he already was pleasing her, but she didn't have long to ponder his words because he was sliding into her then…and it changed everything.
He fits.
We fit.
His gasp filled her ears as she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him hard. She half-expected him to go fast, to take her, but he didn’t.
Prettyboy set a slow and sensual pace that had her moaning his name and gasping simultaneously as she held onto him. Their sweaty skin met in a roiling wave of heat and emotion, like nothing she’d ever felt before.
She couldn't help but think of Chris at least once, and it wasn't because she was comparing the two: it was because there was no comparison.
Esmeralda Quinn realized then and there that everyone else had been right about one thing, and that was that her life wasn’t over.
Her life with Chris, that was over.
Esme’s new life with the Seven Deadlies? That was just beginning.
Prettyboy lifted one of her hips higher and wrapped her legs round his waist, hitting her g-spot from a new angle that had her eyes rolling into the back of her head.
His longer hair fell into his face as he leaned forward to capture her mouth again, his tongue meeting hers, his teeth biting at her bottom lip.
“I’ve been waiting,” He whispered.
Esme’s eyes opened and she ran a hand through his hair, tugging on the dark strands.
“Waiting?”
“For you. I’ve been waiting for you,” He said softly.
Esmeralda’s eyes filled with tears at his earnest words; a man like Prettyboy didn't come around too often. He was sweet and sensitive and above all else, he was supportive. He made her feel like a real woman; desirable, capable, strong.
He did it without even fucking trying.
Esme’s whole body was tense as her orgasm rose to the surface; Prettyboy’s face was damp with sweat, his brow furrowed with concentration. She could tell he was just as close to combusting as she was, and she wanted to explode together.
“I’ve been waiting for you, too,” She said as she arched into him.
His grunt of approval was followed by a few jerky thrusts of his hips before they were both gasping one another’s name into the misty North Carolina air, their arms wound tightly around each other.
Esme was almost positive her heart was going to pound right out of her chest; she was ninety-nine percent sure the dynamic between her and Prettyboy had just taken a drastic turn.
Yet, as he lifted his head to look into her eyes, she took stock of him.
She caressed the perfect side of his face, the un-scarred side. It was gorgeous. Strong jawline, perfect scruff, sensual lips. There was no question as to why he was called ‘Prettyboy.’
But, to her, his beauty came from a completely different place.
The scarred half of his face, was in fact, her favorite half. She even caressed it as she kissed him one more time.
“I’m sorry that I’m not- that my face doesn’t look the way it used to,” He said.
His abrupt statement had her frowning as she shook her head.
“The way you were looking at me. I know pity when I see it,” He said sadly.
Esme couldn't help it- she laughed.
Prettyboy’s head fell and she had to stop her self from demanding that he look at her.
“Damon Michael, I don’t pity you. I admire you. I like you. And the scarred half of your face? It’s my favorite fucking part. I was just sitting here, bathing in the afterglow of our love making, and do you know what crossed my mind?”
“Regret?,” He asked.
Esme rolled her eyes and ran a finger along the bridge of his nose.
Esme wrapped one hand around the back of his neck and brought their foreheads together.
“No. I was sitting here thinking about how amazing it is to me that I can see how fucking beautiful you are, but you can’t.”
Prettyboy grumbled, “Yeah because I have to look at this reflection everyday. You don’t.”
How sad it is that he thinks I wouldn't want to.
“Maybe I want to look at your face everyday.”
His head snapped up and he eyed her closely, looking for lies she guessed.
“You can’t mean that. Look at me!�
�
Esme nuzzled his nose with hers.
“I am. For the first time in a long time my eyes are wide open. Your face may have gotten burned and your leg may not be at one hundred percent, but you’re still pretty to me.”
His green eyes looked so wide, so innocent, that Esme had to kiss him again.
“Are you having second thoughts?,” She asked.
His eyes narrowed then and he tightened his hold on her waist.
“No.”
“Good. The party is still goin’ on downstairs, and I don't really want to see everyone else just yet. I’d rather lay here and spend time with you,” She admitted.
Prettyboy’s smile was brilliant as he whispered, “Your wish is my command.”
Chapter 17
Prettyboy watched Esme spin around in a circle, her hands high above her head. Her long black hair fanned out around her like a halo as she giggled and swayed to the music. The party was still hopping, still loud and proud, so Prettyboy suggested they rejoin their friends and have a good time. Take the edge off, relax a little.
At first she’d insisted on staying up on the roof, cuddled up in his arms, which he had absolutely no objection to-but he did want to show her off.
He wanted everyone to know his claim still stood, that she was his, that even if it took forever he was willing to put in the time and effort.
Rayna came towards Esme then, her blonde hair tied up on top of her head as she shimmied, her bright eyes happy.
“Looks like your path took a different turn, brother.”
Prettyboy turned to greet Fury, who slammed a meaty palm against his shoulder.
“Yeah. I guess it did.”
Fury was grinning like a mad man as he motioned towards Prettyboy’s face.
“I think you’re missing something.”
Prettyboy returned Fury’s grin, his own happiness surfacing as he watched the woman of his dreams dance with Rayna Claire.
“Turns out Esme doesn't mind my face,” He said lamely.
Fury laughed as he shook his head.
“Man, nobody here does! You’re the only one who cares.”
A familiar blonde head was weaving trough the crowd, headed directly for them. The sight of Tasha always set him on edge, but this time it was different- this time Esme was here and he'd only just convinced her to give him a shot…
What if she says something to change Esme’s mind?
“Fuck, looks like the tagalongs are here,” Fury swore.
Prettyboy nodded, but he didn't take his eyes off of Esme.
She was having such a good time, too.
Maybe Tasha wouldn't start anything-
“Oh, looky! The beast took off his mask,” She sneered.
And, here we go.
Her comment caught Rayna’s attention instantly, but Esme was still looking between the two of them confused.
“Go away, Tasha.”
Rayna’s voice was clear as crystal when she demanded that Tasha leave.
Esme followed Rayna towards him and Fury, who were standing side by side.
“What? Like I’m the only one who noticed? Shit, I thought he'd finally taken pity on all of us by wearing that stupid bandana.”
Esme’s mouth fell open at that, her blue eyes meeting his.
There were a lot of people still dancing and partying on the lot around them, so their argument was quickly swallowed by the noise.
“What did I tell you before, bitch?”
Rayna was pulling up her sleeves as she eyed Tasha with a fierce glare, all of her hatred for her overshadowing anything else.
Fury’s grin was back when he saw his woman getting ready to pound on Tasha- a sight that all Seven Deadlies Members loved- but Prettyboy wasn't worried about Rayna.
He was too busy watching Esme.
She looked at him, obviously shocked, before she looked back at Rayna.
“What’s going on?”
“Bitch doesn't know her place and since Ox won’t let me kill her, I’m gonna have to remind her!,” Rayna spat.
Esme’s blue eyes narrowed then.
Tasha scoffed in Esme’s direction.
“What the fuck are you looking at, basket case? You ain’t shit around here, either. Figures you two would shack up, you’re both fucking pathetic,” She said.
Her tone was filled with malice and hatred, all of which confused the fuck out of Prettyboy; what did I do to her to make her hate me so much?
But, Esme surprised all of them when she straightened.
“I’m sorry, what was your name?”
Prettyboy’s gaze never left her, not even when she started to remove her jacket.
“What the hell does my name have to do with anything?”
Esme started to laugh, and the scene reminded Prettyboy all too much of Rayna Claire and how she’d almost killed Tasha the first night they met- also because she’d been saying cruel things about his scars.
Rayna and Fury were watching Esme too, Prettyboy noticed; the only one who didn't seem to realize she was in deep shit was Tasha.
Again.
“See, I don't know if you know this, but I came here from Axel’s club.”
Esme had her jacket off now, and she held it casually out to Rayna.
“So?”
Tasha seemed to be worried when Esme stepped around Rayna, who was now clutching Esme’s jacket to her chest.
Tasha took a step backwards, but Esme motioned towards the big man himself who seemed to understand that shit was about to go down. Prettyboy had never seen this side of Esme. To be fair, they’d never been put in a situation for him to see this side of her, but the way she was tying her hair back into a pony tail had his dick hardening in his tight jeans.
Axel arrived just as Esme finished tying her hair up.
His dark eyes landed on her, and for a second Prettyboy wanted to bash his face in for touching his woman, but when Axel sent him a nod, he knew then and there that he was a far better man than Prettyboy gave him credit for.
He’d stepped aside so the vibrant, gorgeous woman moving towards Tasha could be his.
So they could be happy.
“Axel comes to this lot frequently, Tasha, and he comes here to do what?”
“He’s always fightin’ with Fury,” Tasha said with an eye-roll.
Esme flicked an index finger in her direction as she nodded.
“Exactly. He also happens to be my trainer, Tasha. I don’t want to hurt you, because its not in my nature to start a confrontation. And, it sounds like you’ve already gotten your ass handed to you by my friend Rayna, here. So I’ll give you two options: apologize to my man for saying what you said, or I’m gonna bash your fucking face in and then I’ll make you apologize.”
Tasha’s eyes widened as Esme clasped her hands in front of her.
“Fury! She can’t come here and do this! Tell her she’s gotta go,” Tasha demanded, her pale cheeks flushed with red.
Fury started to laugh, and then so did Rayna; Prettyboy found himself chuckling right alongside them.
She’s so perfect.
Axel cleared his throat, but his laughter was loud enough to make Esme smile wide as she wiggled her eyebrows in Tasha’s direction.
“You won’t lay a hand on me!”
Esme clapped her hand together once.
“Oh, I won’t? See, I know how this works, baby. Been around the block a few times. If you think I’m gonna let you walk all over me, or Prettyboy, then you're out of your fuckin’ head. So, what’s it gonna be?”
Tasha glanced at Prettyboy before she muttered, “Sorry.”
Esme glanced at Prettyboy, her blue eyes questioning.
Is that good enough? They seemed to ask.
Prettyboy nodded.
Tasha looked like she was going to let it go, turned like she was going to leave, but everyone heard her mumble under her breath, “Stupid cunt.”
Esme’s back straightened two seconds before she had Tasha’s blonde hair wrap
ped around her fist and Tasha’s face flying directly into one of her raised knees.
Tasha cried out, but Esme wasn't done.
Tasha’s nose was gushing blood as Esme forced her to her knees in front of Prettyboy.
“Look at him! Tell him you're sorry again, and this time, you better fucking mean it. Ox may tell Rayna she can’t kill you, but Axel’s my president baby, and he’ll let me do whatever the fuck I want.”
Tasha was practically choking on her own tears; Rayna’s mouth was open so wide she was bound to catch flies, Fury and Axel were watching with amused expressions on their faces.
Prettyboy doubted Esme would actually kill Tasha, but he had to admit it was good to see the mouthy bitch on her knees, again, because she'd run her mouth about him.
But this time, Esme was calling him hers.
This time his woman was demanding the apology.
“I’m sorry, really! I won’t ever say anything about your scars again,” Tasha screamed.
Esme threw her forward, causing Tasha to catch herself before she face planted.
“Get up and go get yourself cleaned up. Steer clear of Prettyboy. Tell your whore friends to do the same, or I’ll show you my floor work next.”
Tasha’s eyes were wide with fear as she glanced between Esme and Rayna, who were now standing side by side.
Esme had blood dripping down one of her bare knees and her face was flushed, but Prettyboy had never found her more beautiful.
When Tasha was gone, Esmeralda caught his eye. She smiled, a sexy smirk playing on her lips, as she sauntered towards him.
Her small hands eased up around his neck and buried themselves in his hair.
“Don’t listen to her, baby. She doesn't know a good man when she sees one.”
Esme brushed some hair out of his eyes as she said this, still smiling.
Prettyboy’s scarred mouth lifted.
“And you do?”
She smiled, her mouth grazing his.
“Of course I do. I chose you, didn't I?’
Chapter 18
Esme was in the process of reading about the five stages of grief when a blonde woman with evergreen colored eyes came breezing into the clubhouse.
“Excuse me, have you seen Rayna anywhere?,” She asked.
Envy (Seven Deadlies MC Book 1) Page 10