Envy (Seven Deadlies MC Book 1)

by Kaitlyn Ewald

  Esme canted her head to the side as she nuzzled her nose against his.

  “Can I ask you a direct, yet somewhat loaded question?”

  Her hesitance must have caught his attention because he frowned as he slowly dipped his head.

  “I know we’re not really doing the whole label thing, and obviously something is holding you back because you haven't made love to me in weeks, but- and I know this sounds trivial, trust me- am I your girlfriend?,” Esme rushed to get out.

  Prettyboy’s green eyes roamed over every inch of her face before he finally smiled sweetly at her. Smoothing the hair out of her face, he said, “You mean a lot more to me than some label, you’re right. But, if I had to use one, girlfriend wouldn't be it.”

  Her entire stomach felt like it was going to curdle up inside of her- what?

  He doesn't think of me as his girlfriend?

  The amount of energy it took for her to not cry in his arms like some rejected fifteen year old was enormous. In fact, she was convinced she deserved a reward for not losing her shit right then and there!

  How could he lead me on-

  “Esme, look at me.”

  She tried to avoid his gaze as the hurt settled into her bones, but he caught her chin in his hands and turned her so that she was pressed solidly against the bar. She knew they were completely alone, but he still leaned in close enough that she could feel his beard scrape against her chin.

  “Look at me, Esmeralda Quinn.”

  When she looked into his eyes, she could tell he desired her- but it was more than that. His eyes conveyed the words he didn't say out loud- I love you.

  The idea humbled her.

  “The term ‘girlfriend,’ doesn't imply permanence to me. Any chick could be my girlfriend, Esme. You mean more to me than that,” Prettyboy said huskily.

  She could feel his erection pressed against her belly, it nearly unraveled her.

  “I do?”

  He scoffed, his dark hair falling forward to shield the scarred half of his face.

  “Fuck, Esme. Haven’t I made myself clear? I guess not, or you wouldn't be asking me, would you?”

  He shook his head, confusing her even more, as he leaned in to kiss her again. She couldn't deny him anything, including her mouth, when he looked at her like that.

  As he pulled away, he ran his thumb along her bottom lip.

  “I want you to be my old lady. I want you to stay here with me.”

  The words sounded like a prayer song to Esme’s ears.

  She blinked, her mouth quivering as his truth washed over her flushed skin.

  “You want to keep me?”

  “Woman, I’ve been sayin’ that from the very beginning. Yes, Esme. I want you to take my brand and be my old lady!”

  She opened her mouth to reply, but he stopped her.

  “Don’t say anything yet. Come out with us tonight, have a good time, and when we come back I’ve got a little something for you. Okay?”

  Esme didn't have much to offer Damon Michael, but she could do that for him.

  “Okay, Prettyboy.”

  He smiled as he shook his head, one of his eyebrows quirking slightly.

  “I didn't expect this, Esmeralda Quinn. I didn’t expect to fall for you, and I certainly didn't expect for you to return the favor, but I’m damn glad it happened anyways.”

  Esme didn't bother denying him the truth. He was right.

  He was fucking right.

  “You want to know what swayed me, Damon Michael?”

  He gave her a dashing smile that had her knees jellied in two seconds.

  “What’s that Esmeralda Marie?”

  She narrowed her eyes at the use of her middle name, but she told him anyways.

  “You gave me butterflies. I didn't think I’d ever feel anything again, let alone butterflies. But, you wooed me.”

  His ringed fingers cupped her face as he laid a kiss on her mouth that had her whole body practically begging for him. Hasty touches and tongue and his hard body had her losing her wits faster than she was comfortable with, but she'd go along with the ride if Prettyboy was the driver.

  She’d go anywhere with him.

  “Let’s get going, otherwise I’ll take you right here on this bar top, and I won’t even be sorry about it,” He whispered as his hand slid between her spread thighs.

  Esme gasped the second his fingertips grazed her clit through her sheer thong; yet again, he was driving her crazy.

  Didn't he know she needed him?

  “I bet you want it so bad, don't you?”

  His finger slid her panties to the side as he whispered this, his green eye boring into hers.

  “Yes,” She managed to breathe against his mouth.

  “You’d let me fuck you right here, wouldn't you? Even though anyone could walk in and see us at any second?”

  She nodded, arching her hips to meet his traveling fingers.

  He was so close to making her come just by touching her, just by feeling her, that she was ready to beg.

  “Yes,” She said again.

  He smiled as he crowded closer to her, his leather cut brushing against her bare arms. She didn't care if anyone walked in, she didn't give a damn if anyone saw them; all she could think about was the fact that it’d been two weeks since he laid his hands on her, since he’d made her come, and that far outweighed her need for modesty.

  “You’re so wet for me, beautiful. I miss the feeling of your tight pussy wrapped around me, do you miss it, too?”

  Esme nodded, her lips parting as his index finger and thumb pinched her clit the slightest bit.

  “Why haven't you touched me?,” She whispered.

  He smiled again, his green eyes practically swallowing her whole as he leaned forward to whisper in her ear.

  “You haven't asked me to, Esmeralda. I’m following your lead.”

  Esme wrapped her hands around his neck and hurriedly pressed her mouth to his, moaning loudly when their tongues touched. He grunted under his breath and his fingers really went to work beneath her dress. No more teasing, he dipped two fingers into her dripping cunt and made her whimper his name like he had two weeks ago.

  “Fuck, you feel so good, Esme.”

  She nodded against his mouth, her muscles tense with anticipation. She was approximately three strokes way from reaching her own personal nirvana and he wasn't even fucking her yet; but her body hadn't forgotten.

  No, her greedy pussy was ready for him.

  “I want to feel you inside of me, please,” She huffed.

  Fuck it.

  I’m not above begging, he's worth it.

  He shook his head, bent his fingers inside of her, and smiled with satisfaction when her back arched of its own accord.

  “Believe me, I’m going to fuck you long and hard tonight, Esmeralda Quinn. I’m gonna have you begging for me until you can’t take it anymore,” He promised.

  Esme was positive he meant what he said, and she was also sure that he’d get her exactly the way he wanted her: a writhing, blubbering mess of tangled limbs.

  But, there wasn't time to tell him he was right, because her orgasm hit her like a freight train. Esme’s lungs constricted as Prettyboy’s skilled fingers sent her blood rocketing through her veins and her eyes rolling right into the back of her head.

  The bar was digging into her spine, but fuck that, because the utter pleasure coursing through her was so intense she couldn’t even breathe.

  “Come for me, just like that…”

  His words barely met her ears as he slid his tongue into her mouth.

  Esme was panting against him, her fingers clutching his maroon t-shirt.

  Prettyboy’s green eyes were the first thing she saw when she opened her eyes. His heavy-lidded stare told her he was just as affected by their passion as she was.

  “Fuck, you look so sexy when you come,” He whispered.

  Esme felt herself smile as he dropped her down to her feet.

  “We should
probably get going if we wanna catch up to the rest of the crew,” She said.

  Prettyboy nodded as he ran a hand through his disheveled hair.

  “Did I overstep?,” He suddenly asked.

  Esme dropped her hands down to his belt loops and tugged.

  “No. In fact, I’m actively restraining myself from jumping your bones right this second, but you’re right. We can save the grand finale for later,” She said.

  He wrapped an arm around her waist and tugged her into his chest.

  “How the hell did I get so lucky?”

  Esme knew exactly what he meant.

  “I ask myself the same thing every morning.”

  Chapter 21

  Green was in the middle of shaking his ass to a rock song Esme didn't recognize as she threw another shot back.

  Whiskey.

  Always the whiskey.

  Prettyboy was grinning, his broad shoulders pinned against his chair as she danced near the jukebox with Green. The bar they were in belonged to a friend of the club, tucked back in mountains much like their clubhouse was.

  The bartender was a rough and tumble kind of lady with thick red hair and a frown that rivaled Limit’s.

  “Shake it, girl!”

  Slayer’s words had Green standing in front of her protectively, his hands landing on his hips.

  “Hey! Avert your eyes, pervert, she’s taken!”

  Slayer laughed but Prettyboy just sent her a wink as she wiggled and grooved to the music.

  She giggled, pleasantly buzzed, while the music changed into something a little slower.

  A familiar blonde head caught her eye as she moved to sit down at the table. Prettyboy caught her around the waist at the last second and tugged her right onto his lap.

  She squealed, but was once again distracted when Laura sidled up to their table.

  “Hey!,” Esme said.

  Laura waved.

  “Hi.”

  “Laura’s joinin’ the party!,” Green called loudly as he waved over their server- some leggy brunette with more tits than sense, if Esme had to hazard a guess- before he ordered another round of drinks. While everyone else was busy drinking, Esme watched Laura glance at Ox, who waved her closer to him with one large tattooed hand. Laura eased into the arm he held out, gesturing for her to sit with him. Esme was so caught up with watching what seemed to be a budding romance between Ox and Laura, that she almost fell flat on her face when Prettyboy moved to stand.

  “Whoa, beautiful! Easy,” He said laughing.

  Esme blushed, her cheeks flaming a bright pink as he took her into his arms.

  “What do you say we dance a little?”

  Esme nodded eagerly, her hands engulfed by his as he led her to a secluded corner near the jukebox. The bar wasn't too small nor too big, so it had a lot of corners they could hide away in.

  “Have I told you how beautiful you look?,” He asked.

  She nodded.

  “About four times- five now,” She said.

  He wrapped one gloved hand around her waist and tugged her into his chest, parting her thighs with one of his.

  “I can’t help it. I’m still amazed that you'd wanna be with an ugly fuck like me,” He said.

  Esme tugged his earlobe into her mouth, sucking on the soft skin until his grip on her tightened almost painfully.

  “You’re playing with fire,” He warned.

  "If you call yourself ugly again, I'll whip your dick out right here and cause a scene."

  His eyes widened before he smirked.

  "You would too, wouldn't you?"

  He was mesmerizing Esmeralda Quinn and he didn't even realize it. She wasn't confident she knew what was happening between them, but whatever it was- it was addictive.

  Addictive, sweet, altogether miraculous...

  "If I told you I got you a gift, what would you say?"

  Esme smiled as she leaned into his shoulder.

  "What kind of gift?"

  The scarred half of Prettyboy's face came into view as he glanced at her. She ran her fingers lovingly along the melted planes of skin.

  "One I thought you'd appreciate. You want to head out of here? I've been waitin' to give it to you all night."

  Esme grinned.

  "You're gonna spoil me," She said.

  Prettyboy shrugged.

  "You deserve it."

  His words made her heart skip a beat, but not because she believed him- because she knew he meant it.

  No, Esme didn't question his loyalty anymore. Why would she? He’d proven that he was there for her in any way she could need him.

  No, her heart was ready to beat right out of her chest for a different reason altogether.

  In that moment, she knew she was in love with him.

  No teasing, no games, no 'falling'.

  She was there.

  Esme was head over heels, knees deep, ridiculously in love with Prettyboy.

  There was no way she could deny it, not with the way her entire being vibrated with emotion when he took her hand into his and waved at their friends.

  "Night, everybody!"

  Green and Slayer were too busy making thrusting motions to be bothered, Ox and Laura were nestled together as if they were all alone, and Rider and Limit were in a deep conversation about...guns?

  Prettyboy laughed when no one responded, and instead pulled her towards the front doors.

  "Guess it's just us," She said.

  They reached his bike quickly, her thigh pressed against the cool metal as he fiddled with satchels hanging behind her.

  Prettyboy handed her his spare helmet.

  "Don't matter. You're all I need.”

  The words rolled off his tongue so smoothly, so elegantly, she stopped moving completely.

  Once he realized she wasn’t going to put her helmet on, he turned around to face her.

  “What’s wrong?”

  Esmeralda pressed her mouth to his, enjoying the way he inhaled deeply, as if he too couldn't get enough of whatever magic simmered between them.

  “Let’s get back to the clubhouse, cowboy. Step on it, would ya?”

  His smile was infectious as he slid his own helmet onto his hair, his green eyes mischievous.

  “I’m gonna have you screaming my name before the moon fully settles in the sky for the night,” he promised.

  Esme had to inhale deeply then, just to make sure her feet stayed on the ground.

  How can I keep my feet on the ground when Prettyboy’s got my head in the clouds?

  ◆◆◆

  Esme had her helmet resting on Prettyboy’s handles before his bike got a chance to grow silent, her hands already tugging him out of his seat.

  Prettyboy didn't fight against her hold, no, he slammed his helmet onto the seat of his bike as he yanked her body into his.

  She didn't have to say a word, she didn't have to tell him what she wanted- he already knew.

  He knew everything about her, and she didn't even have to speak.

  She knew everything about him, too- like the fact that he couldn't sleep with socks on, or that his mother and father were long since divorced- she also knew that he hated bananas and loved grape juice.

  Esme also knew what the sounds he made in his sleep just before he woke himself up with his own screaming.

  She was familiar with the way he cried after a particularly harrowing night terror.

  Esmeralda knew that their story wasn't normal, fuck, it wasn’t even plausible- but she wouldn't change it.

  Prettyboy’s hands pulled her back to reality when they slid beneath her dress again and gripped her thighs tightly.

  “Before I take that sweet body of yours anyway I want to, I have something for you. Okay?”

  Esme nodded, her long hair falling into her eyes.

  Prettyboy wrapped an arm around her shoulders and walked her towards the clubhouse, his scarred cheek pressed against her temple.

  “Did I ask for this surprise?,” She wondered.


  As he led her down the hallway that led to her room, they passed Torch. He waved at the both of them, surprising Esme and immediately making her suspicious. Her eyes narrowed when Prettyboy stopped in front of her bedroom door and smile down at her. The smile was handsome, boyish- unguarded, really.

  “You haven’t asked me for a damn thing, and you know it.”

  He softened his words by tucking her hair behind her ears and tipping her head back so he could see into her eyes.

  “You didn't ask me for this, but I thought you should have it.”

  Esme’s confusion only grew as he pushed her bedroom door open. Once the thin wood disappeared, her breath caught in her throat.

  There are candles…everywhere.

  On every surface, in every corner, there was a candle bathing the room in a soft, golden glow. Her bed had been turned down, and there were rose petals spread across the bedsheets. Esme stepped inside to get a better look, ignoring the grimace on Prettyboy’s face.

  “I know it may be too much- fuck, I went overboard, didn't I?”

  Esme’s mouth was hanging open as she ran her fingers over the rose petals; they were silky to the touch, fresh and still slightly damp. The deep red hues were vibrant against her white bedsheets. The contrast was beautiful.

  Slowly, she did a small circle so she could see the rest of the room. The candles varied in color, but they were mostly gold and red, with a few white pillar candles thrown in…

  “No, baby. It’s beautiful.”

  Prettyboy sighed and ran his fingers through his hair again, a nervous habit that Esme loved.

  “Is this my gift?,” She asked as she took one of his hands into hers.

  He slowly shook his head.

  “No. I just wanted the setting to be perfect for what I’m about to ask you,” He said softly.

  Those fucking butterflies were back in her belly and this time they were practically flapping her insides to mush.

  “Okay…”

  He closed her bedroom door and leaned against it, his green eyes pinned on her.

  “We haven't been at this long, but I'd like to think I know a good thing when I see it. I mentioned you staying here earlier. Did you think about it?"

  Did I think about it?

  Um, it's the only thing I've been able to think about!

  Esme struggled to find her voice as she became overwhelmed with emotion.