23. Quake
QUAKE
By the time we make it back to the clubhouse, exhaustion has settled into my bones so deeply that I can barely remember the last time I slept.
The adrenaline from the rescue carried me through the drive. The sight of Melissa safe in the backseat, curled into Whitney’s side carried me through the rest.
Now that we're home, the reality of the night finally catching up with all of us.
We’d been all set to leave the crime scene, having been released by the police, but then my phone rang.
Apparently, they also called Child Protective Services since Carrie was a caseworker, and Melissa, a ward of the state.
The emergency child services supervisor had to sort through the immediate placement issue.
Carrie was in custody, a replacement caseworker had already been assigned, and everybody involved agreed that forcing Melissa through another move in the middle of the night would do more harm than good.
I’m pretty sure Lyric put in a call to the family court judge, as well. Money greases palms, after all.
Finally, after a series of rushed phone calls, background checks, and emergency placement discussions, Melissa was authorized to remain temporarily at the clubhouse with Whitney and me while the investigation continued and a more permanent plan could be established.
Given the look of absolute panic on Melissa's face whenever anyone suggested separating her from us, the decision hadn't seemed particularly difficult.
I park the truck and glance in the rearview mirror. Melissa is asleep, and Whitney is barely hanging on.
The sight nearly wrecks me.
I almost lost them tonight. I can’t even imagine what I’d do if the worst had happened.
Probably end up in a psych ward next to Carrie.
I get out and open the back door. Whitney carefully brushes a strand of hair away from Melissa's face.
"Poor thing."
I nod, no words sufficient enough to say what I’m feeling. I slide one arm beneath Melissa's knees and the other around her back. She doesn't wake. She simply sighs and settles more comfortably against my chest.
The movement does something strange to me. I don't examine it too closely. I'm too tired, and besides, I already know what it is.
Love.
As I carry her inside the clubhouse entrance, I notice that the common room is clean, cleared of all traces of our frantic searching. I make a mental note to thank the old ladies and club whores. No doubt they knew it wouldn’t be good for Melissa to see when we came home.
They knew we’d bring her home.
Brothers file in behind us, none of them saying a word. I know they want to go to their quarters, get some sleep, but they remain close, their attention fixed on Melissa sleeping in my arms.
“Thank you all,” I say, emotion clogging my throat. “I don’t know how I’ll ever repay you.”
“How we’ll ever repay you,” Whitney says, sliding her arm around my waist and leaning close.
Lyric steps forward. “No thanks or repayment required, brother.” He levels his gaze on Whitney. “You either. We just did what we do for family.” He glances at Melissa and smiles. “And whether you realize it or not, you’re both fucking family.”
With that, everyone disperses, and we head to my suite. When I open the door, Stella immediately leaps off the couch and races to us. Whitney kneels down and ruffles her ears.
“She’s very tired, baby,” she tells the beagle. “We need to let her sleep.”
Stella jumps around in circles a few times before bounding toward the bed and jumping up to lay down as if she knows exactly what’s expected of her.
I smile despite myself as I carefully lower Melissa to the mattress. The second her head touches the pillow, Stella shifts to curl against her side.
The dog doesn't hesitate, simply resumes her self-appointed role as protector. I have a feeling she's going to take that job very seriously from now on.
As am I.
Whitney stands beside me staring down at the pair of them. The exhaustion on her face matches my own, exceeds it even.
The woman has spent the last day terrified. The fact that she's still standing is impressive.
"I should call Sister Beatrice,” she finally says.
“Lyric already did,” I tell her.
“Oh, good. I know she was worried.”
“You can call her after you get some sleep.”
“Okay,” she says, covering a yawn. “I think I’m going to shower first, if that’s okay.”
“Absolutely.”
She hesitates for a second as if she wants to say something, but then she steps around me and heads into the bathroom. What she doesn’t do is shut the door. I don’t know if it’s because she’s so tired that she forgot or if it’s a silent invitation.
The shower turns on, and I stand frozen in place, analyzing every scenario under the sun. Then I hear her clothes hit the tile floor and the glass door click shut when she steps under the spray.
Incredibly, my cock springs to life. This might be the biggest gamble of my life, but I walk to the bathroom, shutting and locking the door behind me when I’m inside the steamy room.
“Quake?” Whitney says tentatively.
“Yeah?” I ask, half afraid she’s going to demand I walk out.
“Are you going to join me?”
“Is that what you want?”
“Yes.”
She speaks so softly I almost miss it. Almost. I strip out of my clothes so damn fast that she laughs, and the sound is the sweetest music.
When I open the door and join her, her eyes widen.
“I can leave,” I offer, praying she doesn’t take me up on it.
“No,” she says quickly. “It’s just… I don’t…” Her face falls. “I don’t know what to do.”
I slide a finger under her chin and lift her gaze to mine. “It’s okay. I do.”
“What if Melissa wakes up?” she asks nervously.
“I locked the door.”
“Oh.”
“Whitney,” I say.
“Hmm.”
“I’m going to kiss you.” Her nostrils flare, and my dick bobs. “And then I’m going to teach you my wicked ways.”
My mouth descends on hers before she has a chance to respond.
She moans, and I breathe it in, breathe her in.
I know she’s worried about pleasing me, but she shouldn’t be.
Anything she does pleases me. I’m pretty sure I’d be celibate for the rest of my life as long as I was with her, if that’s what she wanted.
Her tongue darts out, tracing the seam of my lips.
Scratch that. No celibacy.
Whitney might be inexperienced, but she kisses like a goddamn dream. I back her up against the wall, pinning her hands above her head and slanting my head to deepen the kiss. For several long minutes, we keep it up, only inhaling air when we switch angles.
Finally, we break apart, and we’re both panting. I take a moment to step back and take in her nudity. Whitney in simple clothes fit for a nun is beautiful, but Whitney naked, her pupils dilated and her skin flushed is exquisite.
“Fuck, I love you,” I whisper, pressing kisses just below her ear.
“I love you, too,” she says, wrapping her arms around my neck to keep me close.
“Thank fuck.”
Whitney trills a laugh, and it morphs into a groan when I trail my lips from her neck to her breasts and suck a nipple into my mouth.
“Quake, yes,” she breathes. “That feels so good.”
I never would’ve thought she’d be the vocal type, but I’m not complaining.
I swirl my tongue around one nipple, then shift to the other where I do the same before nipping at her with my teeth.
“Oh,” she squeaks. “God, yes.”
Sliding my arms under her ass, I lift her, and she instinctively wraps her legs around my waist. The movement lines my cock up perfectly with her pussy, and it takes everything in me not to immediately thrust inside her.
“This might hurt,” I warn her. “I’m so sorry, but I prom—”
My words die when she uses my shoulders for leverage to lift up and drop herself down onto my shaft. She stills for a moment, pain flashing in her eyes, but then she starts to move, and I see stars.
“Fuuuuuuck,” I growl. “You’re so tight.”
Her hands are everywhere: my chest, face, shoulders. She grabs a hold of anything she can as if letting go will make me disappear.
I thrust my hips, slowly at first, allowing her to fully adjust, but my girl doesn’t let that stand for too long. She matches my every move, and before I know it, I’m pistoning in and out of her so fast that my knees just might give out on me.
“I can’t… I don’t…” She pants, peppering my face with kisses. “Quake, something’s happening.”
“You’re gonna love it,” I assure her, reaching between us and rubbing her clit. “Just let go, Whitney.”
I don’t let up, don’t slow down. I glide in and out, in and out, my hips slamming into hers, and she throws her head back against the wall.
“I’m… I’m…” She shouts incoherently.
“Come for me,” I order, increasing the pressure on her clit.
She explodes, her pussy spasming, sucking me in deeper and not letting go. I thrust one more time, two, three, and bury my head in her shoulder, grunting as pleasure bursts through me.
Whitney’s body twitches with little aftershocks, and I smile against her skin. Once she drops a kiss on my head, I straighten and set her on her feet.
“Is it always like that?” she asks me.
“I don’t know.”
“But I thou—”
“That was a first, even for me,” I tell her. “I mean, I’ve had sex, I won’t lie about that, but it’s never been with a woman I love.”
She smiles. “You did mention something about that.”
“So did you.”
“I did.”
“Now what?” I ask, doubt starting to creep in like an unwelcome visitor at the ass crack of dawn.
“We do that again,” she suggests.
I chuckle. “Did I just corrupt a nun?”
She swats my arm playfully. “Former nun.”
“Close enough.”
Whitney sighs, wrapping her arms around my waist. “I’m serious, Quake. What’s next?”
“Why don’t we finish our shower before we talk about anything so serious?”
She agrees, and we both go through the motions of getting clean. Well, I go through the motions of cleaning us both because she’s practically dead on her feet.
Once we’re done, I help her dry off and dress in comfy clothes. Then I lift her into my arms and carry her to the couch.
“Can we talk now?” she asks sleepily.
I know we need to, but I’m so afraid to burst this bubble we’ve created. Melissa’s home, Whitney’s here, we love each other, and we’re happy. Losing that is not something I want to even contemplate.
"You okay?" she asks when I don’t respond.
"Yeah." She stares at me, waiting, sensing the half-truth. “I’m scared.”
“Of?”
“What if you only think you love me? Because of everything we’ve been through. I mean, all you’ve ever known is Sacred Haven. Fuck, you were married to God. How the hell do I compete with that?”
“You’re babbling.”
“I know,” I snap, but there’s no heat in my tone. “Sorry.”
“Don’t ever apologize for being honest with me, Quake.” She moves to sit on my lap and settles her head on my chest. “I’m scared too.”
“You are.”
“Of course. What if you only think you love me?” she asks, throwing my own words back at me. “What if, ten years from now, you realize you’ve tied yourself to a former nun who doesn’t always understand the ways of a biker club? What if me supporting you despite my reservations isn’t enough?”
“As long as you’re here, it’s enough,” I tell her and realize how true the words are.
“Whitney, I don’t want a woman who's going to bow down to me or accept everything at face value just to avoid a confrontation. I know there are things that I do that you don’t and won’t approve of.
I can’t change that, but I can promise that I will do everything in my power to not let that darkness touch you. ”
“Are you sure? I mean, I love you, and I’m so sure that it’s you I want.
It doesn’t make sense, but if I’ve learned anything since meeting you it’s that life won’t always make sense.
It won’t always come in a neatly wrapped package.
It’s unpredictable, chaotic, a little scary, and so worth experiencing. ”
“I’m sure. I think I was sure after our first meeting. I fucking resisted it, resisted you because I thought it was an impossible dream. But you’re here, we’re here, together. And it makes me so happy.”
Silence settles around us. We’ve crossed some major bridges in the last few minutes of conversation, but there’s one more.
And that shape comes in the form of a little girl with a protective beagle.
Honestly, Melissa could be a deal breaker for me.
Not in the way one might think, but I want her in my life.
I want to be the man she looks up to, the man she thinks of as her dad.
I know she has a dad, a father who died and can’t be there for her, and I don’t want to replace him.
I just want to be a part of her life, stand in for him.
I think Whitney wants the same thing, but we’ve never really talked about it. We’ve acted as Melissa’s parents, worked together to protect her and keep her safe. We’ve showed her love and kindness, gave her a home together.
But doing that in times of crisis and out of perceived obligation is very different from making the choice to do it out of pure love.
“What about Melissa?” I blurt, opting to rip off the Band-aid.
Whitney bolts upright. “What about her?”
Just spit it out, Quake. You’ve got this.
“I want her to stay here, with us.”
The smile that graces her face is perhaps the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen. “I want that, too.”
“So, it’s settled?”
“Settled?” she asks.
“We’ll adopt Melissa, be a family,” I say.
Her smile falls. “Quake, it’s not that simple. There’s a process. It will take time. And we need to talk to Melissa first. She deserves to have a say in this.”
“Right, yeah, I don’t know what I was thinking.”
“You were thinking with your heart, and that’s one of the things I love about you.
” She cups my cheeks. “We just have to do things right, ya know? For Melissa. She needs security, and it’s up to us to give that to her.
We can’t do that if we skip steps or take anything for granted. We don’t want to lose her.”
A thought occurs to me, but I don’t put voice to it.
I do, however, file it away for a later discussion with Lyric.
I know we have to do things right, but I’ve learned the hard way that doing things the right way doesn’t always work out.
Doing things the KOAMC way always works out, one way or another.
“You’re right,” I agree. “We’ll do things right.”
She eyes me suspiciously, so I lean close and press my lips to hers. The distraction works because the next thing I know, my former nun is straddling my hips and rocking her pelvis into mine.
“Have I told you that I love you?” I groan into her mouth.
“Yes, but tell me again,” she moans, throwing her head back when I slide my hand down the front of her pants.
“I love you, Whitney. So goddamn much.”