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.
"Yes," She finally whispered.
Her traitorous little heart leapt at the idea of starting a whole new life as Prettyboy's woman. He only nodded, as if he already knew that.
“Before I ask you to stay for good, I want to make sure you know exactly what my intentions are.”
Esme expected him to say something else, to explain what he meant, but he surprised her when he tugged a small, red velvet pouch from his pocket.
He held it out to her, his expression earnest.
“Go ahead, open it.”
When she hesitated, he nodded.
She had no idea what could be inside, but it was obviously important to him. She dumped the pouch over and shook it gently, pausing when Chris’s wedding ring fell out. It was now entwined with a golden chain.
Confused, she glanced up at him.
“What’s this?”
She lifted the delicate chain into her hand and watched the thick golden band sway between them.
“Before I get to tellin’ you all about how much I love you, I thought you should know that I understand where your heads at. You don’t say it, but I know you still feel guilty from time to time about movin’ on. I know Chris came first, Esmeralda. I know that a part of you still loves him deeply,” Prettyboy said, his voice gritty.
He cleared his throat as he stepped towards her, his green eyes downcast. He too watched the ring as it swung between them, his calloused fingertips coming up to touch the golden chain.
Esme didn't know what to say, but she didn't have to say anything; Prettyboy looked into her eyes and spoke, his words dissolving any of her remaining doubt.
“I want you to stay here and wear my brand. I want you to be my old lady, beautiful. I know that’s asking a lot, but it doesn't have to happen right now. Things don’t have to change between us. After my accident, I didn't think I’d ever get the chance to be happy again, and you’ve given that to me, Esme.”
Her eyes welled with tears at his words.
How can one man be so fucking sweet?
Prettyboy cupped her cheek.
“Don’t cry. I have one more gift for you,” He told her.
Her eyes widened- what more can he give me?
Esme watched, astounded, when he pulled a dainty ring from his pocket and held it out to her. She blinked as she lifted the ring from his palm, the silver band sparkling with blue stones.
“It’s not an engagement ring. It’s a promise ring, I guess. Look, I know you’ve already done the marriage thing. I won’t lie and tell you I don’t hope to one day know you’re wearin’ my last name, because I want that, too. I want it all with you, Esme. But, right now what I want the most is for you to understand that I love you, that I want you to be my old lady, and that while I realize that Chris was your first love…I hope to be your last,” He said with a small shrug.
Esme’s heart swelled in her chest as she glanced down at the ring in her palm. It sat right next to Chris’s ring, but the implications were completely different this time.
This time, Prettyboy was telling her it was okay to remember Chris, to love his memory, and that he understood that she could love both of them.
What he was giving her was worth far more than anything else he could ever offer her.
“Thank you,” She whispered shakily as she lifted Chris’s ring into the air. The chain fell against her wrist as she looked at it.
She’d wanted to know what they were, if they had a ‘label,’ and he’d given her something far more important. Security, compassion, patience, and above all else- his heart.
Sure, she could practically see it reflected in his gaze when he dipped his scarred face closer to hers. She could see how much he cared about her.
She hoped like hell it was reflected in her own eyes when she laid Chris’s ring down on the bedside behind her. She hoped he realized how important her gesture was.
The promise ring was still tucked tightly in her grip when she moved into Prettyboy’s arms.
“You look a little nervous, baby. Are afraid I’ll say no?”
“Honestly, I haven't been this scared in a long time.”
He smiled to try and soften the truth, but Esme wouldn't have it. She held the ring out to him, her lips quirking.
“Okay, Damon Michael Grey. You’ve told me how you feel, and what you want, so why don’t you ask me officially.”
His lips parted as he took the ring from her, his eyes dancing with mirth.
“Yeah?”
She shrugged this time, her hair drifting over her shoulders.
“I’m following your lead,” She joked.
Prettyboy’s eyes narrowed playfully.
“Okay, Esmeralda Marie Quinn, will you officially be my old lady and take this promise ring as a token of my affection?”
Esme lips twitched slightly as she nodded, “You’re sounding more like a knight in shining armor everyday, ya know.”
“Tarnished at best, I promise you.”
As the ring slid onto her finger, Esme felt an overwhelming sense of Déjà vu but it didn't bother her. Instead, she watched the thin band sparkle in the candlelight before she gestured towards Chris’s ring.
“That was a really thoughtful thing to do, baby.”
He was taking off his leather jacket, something that definitely distracted Esme, when he sighed.
“I’m glad it made you happy.”
“You make me happy a lot, ya know. And by the way? I love you, too.”
The words rolled off of her tongue swiftly, smoothly, and they just about made Prettyboy fall over as he slid out of his boots.
“You do?”
Esmeralda was surprised by the look of astonishment on his face, but instead of explaining herself, she took his free hand into hers.
Her mouth did the talking, but there were no words exchanged, as she pressed her lips to his. His shoes were kicked aside as he ran his hands along the lengths of the back of her thighs. She gasped into His mouth. His fingers had her dress up around her waist in record time, his tongue snaking along the underside of her chin.
He tasted good, like tequila and sweat and something she imagined was desperation. Her panties didn't stand a chance against him as he ripped the thin material in two before the remnants went flying.
Her spine bowed when he yanked the collar of her dress down, exposing her pebbled nipples to his mouth.
"You've been teasin' me with this fucking dress all night long, Esme."
His tone made her feel like she'd regret it, that she was going to learn a thing or two about teasing her old man before the night was over. The way his tongue raked across her sensitive flesh had her panting his name and she'd be lying if she didn't admit that it would be the easiest punishment for her to take.
Prettyboy hadn't ever been so dominant in the bedroom (not even while they fooled around) but it seemed to Esme that he was done with the fooling around.
Now, she was his woman, and he was going to take her as such.
"Stand up and take your dress off. Slowly."
His words had Esme blushing, but she hurried to do his bidding as quickly as she could. Prettyboy took his cut and his shirt off before he tossed them aside, leaving his marvelous body exposed to her. Even the scars couldn't detract from such a beautiful specimen of male.
As she pulled the straps down around her waist, the flowy material dipped and fell into a pile at her feet. She had nothing on but her shoes, which Prettyboy demanded she remove as he worked on his pants.
He didn't have any trouble taking his pants off this time, but Esme still wouldn't have minded getting on her knees again.
The thought had her pussy clenching.
Prettyboy motioned for her to turn around and she did so.
"Spread your legs for me, beautiful. Keep your hands above your head. Don't move them, either. If you do, I won't let you come. Understand?”
Esme was barely able to answer him coherently as she nodded.
“Say yes sir,” Prettyboy demanded.
Esme hurried to say, “ Yes sir.”
He nodded before he lifted her right leg and placed it over his left shoulder.
“Good girl,” He murmured as he kissed his way up the inside of her thigh.
She was shivering, but not from the cold, more so from the banked heat spreading through her in one long, delicious wave.
Prettyboy’s tongue rose higher, this time just barely kissing the source of her heat.
This was different than the last time; this wasn’t tinged with sadness or grief or overshadowed by the daunting idea of acceptance.
This was Esme’s old man showing her exactly how desirable he found her.
This was Prettyboy loving her.
Clad in nothing but his boxer briefs and the rings on his fingers, he dipped his head and spread her apart as if he were opening a book he couldn't wait to read.
“I’ve been thinkin’ about this for days, Esme. Are your hands still above your head?”
“Yes sir,” She murmured breathily.
He didn't even take the time to call her a good girl before his tongue was delving into her, causing her to cry out.
Her palms flattened above her head against the grainy wood of the door, her fingers practically spearing the smooth surface.
Prettyboy’s tongue flicked her clit, massaging the bundle of nerves until Esme was convinced she would dissolve completely. His beard scraped against the insides of her thighs, but she didn't care.
All she cared about was the fact that his fingers and his mouth were so close to making her come that she could practically taste heaven on her tongue as she moaned his name.
As soon as the drawn out syllables left her lips, he was glancing up at her, presumably to check if her hands were still above her head, which she was proud to show him that they were.
“Such a good girl,” He practically growled as he dove in again, his teeth nibbling on her skin roughly. Esme hadn't ever experienced sex like this. Nothing had ever been this intense before, but she definitely wasn't about to complain…
She was about to come all over Prettyboy’s mouth, and he was encouraging it.
“That’s right, beautiful. Do you want to come?”
She nodded fervently, her dark hair sticking to her parted lips before her hot breath blew it away.
Her fingernails were practically gouging the wood above her head when he sucked her clit into his mouth and laved it with his tongue.
“Please,” She whispered.
She yearned to bury her hands in his hair, to touch him, but she knew that he’d stop if she did so.
Even though she hated it, she kept her hands above her head while he worked her over.
“You can come now, Esmeralda. You’ve been a good girl,” He told her.
It was as if her body was waiting for his permission, because the second those words left his mouth, the tingles started. Working from her knees outward, a heady orgasm pounded through her system. She did drop her hands then, burying them in his longer hair and holding on tight. He grunted something she couldn't hear, but he didn't stop licking her until her cries quieted and her body relaxed.
“Fuck,” She gasped.
Prettyboy kissed his way up her body before he finally met her lips again. Nothing slowed him down as he lifted her into his arms.
“Wait! What about your leg?”
“Nothin’ is keeping me from fuckin’ my woman tonight,” He replied.
As she fell back onto the white sheets, he spread her legs wide and fell between them.
Esme helped him kick out of his underwear, their mouths still fused together. His hands had her pressed back into the mattress at the exact moment he thrusted into her, his cock filling her up and making her squirm. Her nails scored the scarred skin of his back, her teeth practically tore at sensitive skin beneath his chin, but he didn't seem to mind. It only seemed to spur him on; he gripped her waist in a bruising hold and she lifted her hips to meet him thrust for thrust. She knew it wasn't going to last long, and this time she didn't need that.
She just needed him, all of him, however he would take her.
“I love you,” He whispered.
Esme buried her hands in his hair and made sure he could see into her eyes when she whispered, “I love you too.”
And there it was- the final step.
Esme knew she hadn't needed any extra pushes, but those three words healed her in a way she hadn’t expected them to.
Acceptance.
Yeah, as Prettyboy pressed her body into his, Esmeralda knew that she’d finally made it over the final hump.
She was home free, and her home was lookin’ a lot like Prettyboy.