Chapter 20
Esmeralda’s mind was racing as Rayna handed her a bright red shade of lipstick. Esme eyed it, pondering the shade itself.
The quality was name brand, Chanel, but the color?
The color was a little loud, even for Esmeralda Quinn.
“Come on baby, live a little. You earned a night out on the town. Don’t you wanna make your man swoon?”
Esme blanched at the idea of a night out on the town, and the implications behind it. Sure, it was easy for her and Prettyboy to hide away in either one of their bedrooms, and yes, she loved being ‘with’ him. But, were they ready for their first official outing as a couple?
Are we a fucking couple? Is it fair to call us that?
Esme called him her man, and he called her his woman, but they hadn't had ‘the talk’ yet. While she didn't necessarily need a label, she did want to know what was going through Prettyboy’s head.
“Is he my man?,” She asked quietly.
Rayna’s peepers narrowed in on her reflection in the mirror.
“What kind of a question is that?”
“I mean, am I his? He hasn't asked me yet, and I don’t want to assume things.”
Rayna started to laugh so hard she almost fell right off of the side of the toilet, but she caught herself in time.
“Girl, please! If that man has any say, you'll be barefoot and pregnant by the end of this year.”
Esme’s eyes widened.
Rayna’s eyes began to water, as if she too just realized what she’d said.
“Hey, don’t cry, darlin’.”
Rayna waved her fears away, dismissing Esme’s concern.
Esme sighed and moved to kneel in front of the toilet so she could see into Rayna’s eyes.
“Listen to me, okay? If you and Fury decide to go the surrogate route, I’ll carry your baby for you. You can still be a part of the entire journey, okay?”
Rayna’s eyes widened as she stared at Esme, her mouth agape.
“You really mean that?”
Esme shrugged, a smile tugging at her lips.
“I mean, of course! If Laura says I’m able to do it for you, I will. Don't give up hope on starting a family now, Rayna. You’ve got a wedding coming up, a house almost done…everything is happening exactly as it should.”
Rayna choked out a laugh that echoed loudly in the bathroom around them as she threw her arms around Esme.
“Thank you, thank you, thank you! I don't know what I would have done if you hadn't come along when you did. You've been a great friend to me,” Rayna said breathily as she wiped her tears.
Esme patted her pale cheek.
“You’ve helped me more than you know,” Esme admitted.
Rayna looked around, as if anyone else could even fit in the bathroom with them, before she whispered, “Don’t tell Green, but you're my other best friend.”
Esme’s melodic laugh joined Rayna’s before they both startled at the sound of Green’s voice through the bathroom door.
“I heard that!”
Esme squeaked and Rayna giggled.
“I swear, he’s like a fuckin’ panther, the way he slinks about,” Rayna said.
“I heard that too!”
“Go away,” Esme laughed.
She glanced back at Rayna who now had a dreamy smile on her face.
“You know if it comes down to it, you’re not obligated to help me and Fury. I don’t want you to think I expect that of you.”
Esme puckered her lips, checking to make sure her lipstick was perfectly applied, before she turned to hand it back to Rayna.
“I wouldn't have offered if I felt obligated. I’d be honored to help you two. Really, Rayna.”
She must have finally convinced Rayna she was being genuine, because her blue eyes filled with tears again.
“I’m sorry I’m such an emotional wreck! I swear, I’m not usually like this.”
Esme laughed heartily before she nudged Rayna’s shoulder.
“Trust me, I know.”
Rayna stood up and tucked the red lipstick into her pocket.
“You look sensational, ya know.”
Esme met her own reflection when she turned to look at herself in the mirror; flowing red dress, her snakeskin boots (which hid a knife Chris had given her), and her makeup was done to perfection.
She did look sensational.
“Thank you, sweet girl. Now, don't you have a dinner date with Fury to get to?”
Rayna gasped.
“Shit, you’re right!”
Esme accepted her hug before Rayna rushed out the door, her blonde hair almost escaping from it’s bun.
With a sigh and a smile, Esme stepped out into the hallway in search of her man. She knew church had only just ended, so she wasn't surprised to see he wasn't waiting for her- but she was surprised to see Tasha of all people hurling a suitcase towards the exit.
“Goin’ somewhere, princess?”
Esme couldn't help herself from taunting the icy bitch, her smile all but enveloping the rest of her face.
“Fuck you, you little tramp!”
Tasha threw that insult over her shoulder, but it didn't bother Esme none. Tasha’s clothes were sticking to her back and her blonde hair was wily on her head; she looked like a drowned rat, and she was just as nasty as one, too.
“Better be careful walkin’ into town dressed like that, Tasha. Would hate for you to attract the wrong kind of attention.”
Esme’s words were met with a middle finger, but instead of breaking it off like Axel had taught her to do, she just waved in Tasha’s direction.
Who needs that noise?
She’s gone!
The excitement she felt bubbling up inside of her belly doubled when she felt two firm hands wrap around her waist.
“Now, what’s a woman like you doin’ all alone?”
Esme blushed at the sound of Prettyboy’s voice.
“Waitin’ for my knight in shining armor, I guess.”
She smiled as she turned to face him, her hands wrapping around the back of his neck.
He winced, his green eyes trained on her cleavage.
“I haven't seen any of those around lately. Would you be willing to settle for someone a little less…shiny?”
Esme smiled, her brows furrowing.
“I don’t know…is he qualified to handle a woman like me?”
This time Prettyboy smirked, his teeth catching his bottom lip. Esme had to restrain herself from groaning at the sexy sight.
“I bet he could handle you just fine, beautiful.”
Esme sighed and leaned in to kiss him, catching his mouth in a fiery kiss that left them both panting against the bar, before she suddenly pulled back.
Her lipstick was smeared all over his mouth.
“Shit. I forgot I was wearing lipstick.”
He just smiled and wiped any traces of it from her chin.
“If a little lipstick is all that keeps me from tastin’ you Esmeralda Quinn, I’ll swallow tubes of it.”
Her heart fluttered in her chest as she leaned into his hard body, her curly hair falling over his shoulder.
“I like you, ya know.”
His arms tightened around her waist, and then it was as if it were only the two of them in the entire clubhouse.
“I like you too.”
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.”