Chapter 12 - Wraith
Quinn whispers okay, and I feel her body relax against mine, utterly spent, wrecked in the best possible way. And I did that. I made her feel like this, safe and satisfied so thoroughly she's already half-asleep in my arms.
The sex was mindblowing. Holy fuck. I've had sex before, obviously, been married, know my way around a woman's body, but nothing, absolutely nothing has ever come close to what just happened.
Quinn's a curvy goddess, generous curves and this confidence in her own body that made every touch feel like a revelation.
And the way she took me… Jesus Christ, the way she took my cock like she was made for it, begged me to fill her, told me she was mine, I'm already half-hard again just thinking about it.
I'm going to want this at least twice a day. Minimum. Morning and night, maybe afternoon too if I can manage it. The thought of having regular access to her body, to this connection we just discovered, makes something possessive and primal unfurl in my chest.
She's mine now. I claimed her, marked her, filled her with my cum until it was dripping down her thighs. And she let me. Wanted me to. Begged for it.
I press a kiss to her forehead and she makes a small contented sound without opening her eyes. Her hair is everywhere, wild and tangled from my hands, and there are marks on her hips from my fingers that are going to bruise beautifully by morning.
"We should probably talk," I say, even though part of me wants to just let her sleep, wants to hold her like this and not complicate it with words.
"Mmm." She shifts slightly, tilting her head up to look at me. Her eyes are heavy-lidded, sated, but there's wariness there too. "Talk about what just happened?"
"Yeah. About what this means. What we're doing."
She's quiet for a moment, and I watch her process, watch her brain come back online after being thoroughly fucked into oblivion. "What do you want it to mean?"
"I want it to mean everything," I admit. "I want you, Quinn. Not just for tonight, not just for sex. I want this to be real. A relationship. You and me and Mariah, figuring out how to be a family."
Her eyes go suspiciously bright. "You mean that?"
"I don't say things I don't mean. You should know that about me by now.
" I trace patterns on her bare shoulder with my fingertips.
"But we should probably take it slow with Mariah.
Not lie to her, but maybe not announce that you're my girlfriend after two days either.
Let her adjust to having you here first, let this become normal before we add another layer to it. "
"That's smart," Quinn agrees. "Give her time to get used to me being around without the pressure of understanding what we are to each other."
"Exactly." I pause. "You okay with that? With keeping this between us for a little while?"
"I'm okay with whatever you think is best for her. She comes first, Dean. Always." Quinn reaches up and touches my face, fingers gentle against my jaw. "But when we do tell her, when the time is right, I want her to know I'm not going anywhere. That I'm choosing both of you, permanently."
"Permanently," I repeat, testing the word. "That's a big commitment after two days."
"I know what I want." She says it with such certainty, such absolute confidence, that I believe her completely.
"I've spent seven years wandering, trying to find something that mattered.
And then I walked through your door, and everything clicked into place.
That doesn't happen by accident, Dean. That's not something I'm willing to let slip away just because the timeline seems fast."
I kiss her again because I can't not kiss her, because she just said everything I've been feeling but was afraid to voice. "Okay. We'll keep it quiet for now, but we're doing this. For real."
"For real," she confirms.
We lie together in comfortable silence for a few minutes, my hand stroking up and down her spine while her fingers trace idle patterns on my chest.
She settles back against me with a contented sigh, and I let myself enjoy this: the weight of her in my arms, the smell of sex and sweat mixing together, the satisfaction of knowing I've finally found something worth keeping.
Hours later…
I wake to the sound of small feet thundering down the hallway and have approximately three seconds to register that I’m still in Quinn’s bed, still naked under my sheets, before my door bursts open.
"Quinn!! Can we have pancakes for—" Mariah stops mid-sentence, eyes going wide as she takes in the scene. Quinn sitting up beside me, sheets pulled to her chest, hair completely wild. Me shirtless, obviously just woken up.
For a long, terrible moment, nobody says anything.
Then Mariah's face splits into the biggest smile I've ever seen.
"Quinn stayed over!" she announces, delighted. "You had a sleepover!"
"Uh," I say intelligently, my brain still trying to catch up.
"Did you make more cookies?" Mariah asks, climbing onto the bed without invitation. "Did you watch movies? We should all have sleepovers together every night!"
Quinn catches my eye over Mariah's head, and I can see her trying not to laugh. Crisis averted, apparently. Thank god for five-year-old logic.
"We didn't make cookies," Quinn says, voice admirably steady. "Your dad and I were just talking for a long time and fell asleep. That's all."
"Talking is boring," Mariah declares. "Next sleepover we should definitely make cookies."
"Definitely," I agree, still slightly shell-shocked. "But right now, how about you go start getting dressed and we'll make those pancakes you wanted?"
"Okay!" She bounces off the bed with the same energy she brought in. "Chocolate chip pancakes!"
"Regular pancakes," I counter.
"Chocolate chip!"
"We'll discuss it downstairs. Go get dressed, baby girl."
She runs off, already singing about pancakes, and the door closes behind her.
Quinn and I look at each other for a beat, then both burst out laughing.
"Well," she says, "that could've gone worse."
"Much worse." I lean over and kiss her, quick and sweet. "I should probably get back to my room and we should put clothes on before she comes back."
"Probably a good idea."
I watch her climb out of her bed, completely unselfconscious about her nakedness, and have to adjust myself under the sheets because apparently my body has decided we're going again right now.
"Stop looking at me like that," Quinn says without turning around. "We have a child to feed, and I need to be able to walk normally."
"You can walk fine."
"For now." She pulls her shirt over her head, then her sweatpants. "But if you keep staring at me like you want to bend me over your dresser, that might change."
"Don't tempt me."
She throws my shirt at my face, tells me she’s going to the bathroom and slips out the door, grinning.
I lie in her bed for another minute, processing the fact that I just woke up with Quinn in my arms, that Mariah found us and was happy about it, that my life has somehow transformed completely over the span of forty-eight hours.
My phone buzzes in my nightstand. I get up and rush to my bedroom.
Phoenix: Church at 12. Important. Found out how Vipers knew about Mariah.
I text back immediately: How?
Phoenix: Some random guy who used to come to our clubhouse for drinks. Overheard someone mention you had a daughter and decided it was the right time to sell the intel to the Vipers. We've got him now. Judge is handling it.
Relief and rage war in my chest. Relief that it wasn't someone in the club, that we don't have a traitor. Rage that some opportunistic asshole sold information about my daughter for what was probably beer money.
Me: What about the Vipers we brought in yesterday?
Phoenix: Sang like canaries once Judge got started. They were supposed to grab Mariah, use her as leverage to force our hand. Demon's orders. He's getting desperate.
Me: Good. Let him be desperate. Makes him sloppy.
Phoenix: Exactly. We'll go over the full plan at church. Brick's got something he wants to propose. I think you'll like it.
Me: I'll be there.
I set the phone down and get out of bed, pulling on clean clothes. The anger is still there. It will probably always be there when I think about men coming to my house to take my daughter, but it's manageable now.
We know how they found out. We're handling it. And we're about to go on the offensive.
Downstairs, I find Quinn and Mariah in the kitchen. Quinn's at the stove with a mixing bowl, Mariah on a stool beside her explaining in great detail the proper chocolate chip to pancake ratio.
"Daddy!" Mariah spots me immediately. "Quinn says we can have chocolate chips if we also have fruit. That's fair, right?"
"That's very fair," I agree, moving to the coffee pot. Quinn's already made a fresh pot, bless her, and I pour myself a cup.
"Phoenix texted," I tell Quinn while Mariah's distracted by the mixing bowl. "Church at noon. They found the leak."
"Everyone okay?"
"Yeah. Just some guy who overheard club talk and sold it to the Vipers. Judge has him."
"Good."
We make pancakes together, the three of us moving around the kitchen in a dance that's starting to feel natural. Mariah chatters constantly about everything and nothing. Quinn flips pancakes with one hand while keeping my daughter from eating all the chocolate chips with the other.
I set the table and pour orange juice and try not to think about the church meeting in a few hours, the war we're still fighting, the violence that's probably coming.
For now, there's just this. Pancakes and coffee and my daughter's laughter. Quinn's smile across the table. The weight of her foot brushing against mine under the table.
After breakfast, Mariah wants to show Quinn her entire book collection, which means I have a few minutes alone to shower and get ready for church.
When I come back downstairs, I find them in Mariah's room, Quinn sitting cross-legged on the floor while my daughter reads to her from a book about dragons.