Envy (Seven Deadlies MC Book 1)

by Kaitlyn Ewald

  "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.

  Chapter 22

  Prettyboy woke before Esme did, hoping she’d get some more sleep before she realized he was gone. He didn't want to leave her, but he felt there was one more area of closure that he himself needed before he took Esme as his own for good.

  For good, for better or worse…

  Sure, they weren't getting married any time soon, but taking her as his old lady was the closest a man like him had ever come before. Esme was his everything now, and he would protect her with his life…but not until he thanked the man before him.

  The one who’d inadvertently sent her his way.

  Prettyboy didn’t know if he deserved anyone as amazing as Esme, but he sure as hell knew he’d appreciate her even more because of that fact.

  As he closed her bedroom door, he caught sight of Torch and Rider heading towards the bar.

  “Hey, Romeo, how’d it go?”

  He met Torch’s gaze with a smile of his own.

  “She’s mine.”

  While it was true that Torch had helped him set up Esme’s room the night before, Prettyboy still remembered what happened the last time the club trusted a prospect. He now understood how scared Fury must have been when Arrow betrayed all of them.

  Torch didn't seem to need any more details however as they all filed into the great room of the clubhouse, Ox breezing through the front entrance just at they exited the hallway.

  “Mornin' fellas. How’s it goin’?”

  Prettyboy smiled as he motioned towards the doors.

  “Got an errand to run, if my old lady comes lookin’ for me, tell her I’ll be back soon. Okay?”

  Ox’s grin reached from ear to ear as he slapped Prettyboy on the back.

  “Congrats, brother. You deserve it.”

  Prettyboy didn't argue this time.

  “I’ll be back in a couple of hours.”

  “Okay, keep your eyes open for any Silver Bullets out there. Axel called earlier, told me they’ve been circling.”

  Prettyboy nodded, although he didn't expect to see any so close to their own territory.

  As Prettyboy headed outside, he could see that most of the crew was still asleep. Just as well, he didn't need any company for where he was going.

  The graveyard was located just near the outside of town, closer to their clubhouse than not, and he knew that if he left now he’d make good time there. He could probably be back before Esme even knew that he was gone, and she didn't need to know that he was going to visit Chris Wilder’s grave.

  Prettyboy didn’t know what compelled him to go, but he knew that he would feel better after he spoke to Chris. He couldn't have a man to man talk with him, but he truly felt that his words would reach Chris somehow.

  The roads were clear as he headed towards the graveyard, a private little lot nestled close to the mountains. Many of his friends and family were buried in that cemetery. Same with a lot of the bikers in their area. It was a shared space for a lot of them.

  The sun wasn't high in the sky yet, but it's light golden rays were bathing the asphalt in a healthy glow that brought with it a wave of contentment that washed over Prettyboy.

  He could feel it deep down in his bones, that contentment. He silently praised whatever forces out there in the world that had made it possible to feel it again.

  T
hat had brought him Esme.

  Prettyboy wasn't a very spiritual person, but had a feeling that the "forces" at work to unite him and Esmeralda Quinn had everything to do with the man he was currently on his way to see. As he closed the last mile between them, he slowed down so he could easily glide through the entrance of the cemetery. There wasn't anyone else around but Prettyboy didn't expect there to be. It was still early yet and a lot of the respective townsfolk didn't bother to wander this far into their territory. Not unless they needed a little work done on their cars.

  He only took a couple of minutes to make his way towards a cluster of plots where he presumed Chris would be. Esmeralda and Axel held a small private funeral for him months back, but no other charter had been invited to that.

  Just as well, Prettyboy was there now.

  His boots were heavy on slick grass as he searched for his name. It only took a few seconds for him to spot the dark granite slab. The bright gold lettering spelled out a few things he already knew about him; Friend, brother, husband.

  “Hey, man. Been a long time, huh?”

  Prettyboy wasn’t quite sure what to say at first so he sat cross-legged in the grass and faced Chris’s headstone.

  “This ain’t somethin’ I ever saw myself doin’, honestly. I didn't think I’d ever get a chance with Esme, and here I am, talking to her dead husband…I don’t know, maybe I just want some closure? I just knew I wouldn’t feel right until I talked to you,” Prettyboy admitted.

  The breeze was crisp this early in the morning, and he welcomed it.

  “I truly think that everything happens for a reason. It took me a while to accept the truth of that, especially after my accident. I’ll tell ya, after my face got burned up, I didn’t even want to wake up in the morning. Took me weeks to finally look into a mirror. I was on top of the world for so long, and then all of a sudden…I wasn’t.”

  Prettyboy took a long, shuddering breath.

  “You know Esme just as well as I do. You know how fuckin’ amazing she makes a man feel. She’s kind and thoughtful, and just when you think you’ve got her figured out…she surprises you. I like that about her, the not knowing. She's just so…real,” Prettyboy whispered.