Chapter 30
Prettyboy was in fact waiting for her when Axel rode off of the lot.
She could see a few of the Lone Rangers hanging out in the garage with Rayna, Fury, Slayer, and Ox, but she didn't stop to say hello.
She headed right for her old man, who looked like he’d seen better days. As she neared him she could see that his knuckles were purple and torn, a little bloody.
“Damon, what happened to your hands?,” She demanded.
He quirked a smile.
“My hands? You just killed Tasha and you’re asking me about my hands? Esme, come here.”
Prettyboy pulled her into his arms, his muscular arms gripping her tightly.
It felt amazing, it felt too good, and it had her eyes filling with tears again.
“Why are your hands messed up?”
“Fury and I taught Torch a little lesson. Don’t worry about it. I’ve been waiting to get my hands on you all morning,” He said gruffly.
Esme didn't have to guess what he meant, because he pressed his mouth to hers.
She groaned at the feel of him, at the addictive taste of him.
“Come inside with me.”
She was happy to oblige him, because the adrenaline was wearing off. The events of the evening were catching up to her, and she was ready to collapse.
He took her hand into his and led her into the clubhouse, his green eyes never leaving her.
This time he took her to his room instead of hers, and she waited until he had his bedroom door closed before she began to strip out of her clothes.
Prettyboy flicked the lock on his door before he started to do the same.
“I told Rayna and Fury I would carry their baby for them.”
Prettyboy smiled wide, his scarred face lifting.
“I know.”
“Are you okay with that?”
He laughed before he nodded.
“It’s your choice, Esme. Your body.”
She had no idea why she’d mentioned it then and there, but as he shed his clothes, she felt it necessary to tell him.
She wanted no more secrets between them.
“Full disclosure, you’re right, I want that,” She demanded.
He paused between taking his pants off and kicking his shoes off.
“Deal.”
“When did you find about the surrogacy thing?”
“Fury came to me about it a couple of weeks ago.”
That made her feel a little bit better.
She was naked then and his eyes lingered on every one of her curves.
“Axel told me I’m part of your club now. That’s true, right?,” She asked.
“Yes, and if he ever lays his hands on you like he just did outside, I’ll cut them off.”
His heated response surprised her in a good way, so she took a step towards him.
“Yeah?”
He kicked out of his boots and looked up at her, his hair falling into his eyes.
“Yeah.”
“I want a leather jacket like Rayna’s,” She admitted.
Prettyboy grinned up at her, looking like a demon singed by the flames of hell…
“You gonna let me tattoo my brand on you, woman?”
His brand, my God…
“Fuck yes, I am.”
“I like this brazen side of you, Esme. Bein’ an old lady looks good on you.”
“Being your old lady looks good on me.”
He didn't deny her words, but he did wrap his arms around her waist.
“I want to fuck you, Esme. I want to be inside you. Tell me to stop right now if that’s not what you want. After everything we’ve been through since last night, all I can think about is how close I came to losin’ you.”
She pressed her mouth to his, accepted the love bites he gave her, buried her fingers in his hair.
“I need a shower,” She murmured against his lips.
“You need my dick buried inside you, but I can make both happen.”
Esme felt arousal spark in her system, and how fucked up was that?
They’d just survived a hostage situation, she’d just discovered her dead husband was a liar, and she’d just committed three murders.
At least I’ll have good company in hell…
She’d told herself to be more like Rayna and that’s precisely what she’d done.
She couldn't ever be ruthless like her, but she'd proven to Prettyboy she was a worthy old lady.
He lifted her into his arms and carried her into his en-suite bathroom.
After flicking the shower on, he took the time to kiss her again, this time with his hand between her legs.
“I love you,” She whispered against his mouth.
“I love you too, beautiful.”
Esme ran a finger along the edge of his scarred jaw.
“You know I love your scars, right?”
Prettyboy smiled lovingly before he placed a palm against her chest, right over her heart.
“I love yours, too.”
He’s telling me he loves the scars that Chris left behind.
He loves me even though I’m a fucking basket case, even though I’ve officially gone around the bend.
She huffed a strangled breath as he led her into the shower and pressed her against the tiled wall.
“Do you trust me?”
“With my whole heart,” She whispered.
His hands got to work worshipping her body, his tongue snagging one of her earlobes in his mouth.
“Then you know the drill, Esme. Put your hands above your head.”
“Yes, sir…”