Chapter 7 - Torch
"Here we are," Sidney repeats, her voice soft in the quiet living room.
I look at her, and something feels different in my chest. She's beautiful in a way I was too drunk to fully appreciate three years ago.
The extra curves motherhood has given her suit her.
Her auburn hair falls in loose waves around her face, and when she tilts her head back and sighs, her throat exposed, I feel a jolt of desire so powerful it catches me off guard.
Fuck. I want her. Not just physically, though that's definitely part of it. I want more of this: sitting together at night, talking, sharing meals, raising our son. I want a family. The family I never had growing up.
But how the hell do I tell her that? We barely know each other. I left her once, even if I didn't know what I was leaving behind. What right do I have to ask her to stay now?
She rubs her eyelids, clearly exhausted, and drags her tongue across her lips.
The innocent gesture sends blood rushing to my cock, hardening it painfully against my jeans.
I shift on the couch, trying to adjust without being obvious, and silently curse my body's betrayal. This isn't the fucking time.
"I've been thinking," she says, oblivious to my predicament, "about Blackwater Falls."
"What about it?" I manage, my voice rougher than intended.
"I wouldn't mind staying here. In town, I mean." She glances up, gauging my reaction. "After all, I have nowhere else to go."
"Are you sure? It's not exactly the best small town in the world."
She chuckles, the sound making me want to hear it again. "From what I've seen, it seems perfectly fine. I'm not high maintenance, Dean. As long as Max and I have a place to sleep, food, a job for me, and eventually a school for him… We'll survive."
"You'll have everything you want," I tell her, the words coming from somewhere deep and sincere. "Because you're not alone anymore. You have me now, and the whole Savage Riders. You're family, both of you. Any member would die to protect our son."
Her eyes shine suddenly, like she's holding back tears.
"Are you okay?" I ask, concerned.
"I'm just... emotional," she admits. "This is so much more than I expected.
I feel like this weight I've been carrying, it's finally lifting.
I can breathe without worrying about every single day.
" She leans closer, placing her hands atop mine, "Thank you.
Over these two years, I thought a lot about how you might react to the news of having a kid, but I never thought it would go this well. "
"I understand why you'd think that," I say, looking down at our hands.
"When we met, I was a fucking mess. But I promised myself a long time ago that I wouldn't follow my parents' footsteps.
I'd be better. I'd support my son in any way possible, and I'll support whatever he wants to be, even if I disagree.
Because to me, a good parent adapts to their son, not the other way around. "
"You're going to be a fantastic father," she says softly. "Max has no idea how lucky he is."
"I'm the lucky one," I tell her, unable to stop myself. "Because I not only have an incredible son, but a beautiful woman sitting before me."
She seems to choke, immediately taking her hand off mine. "What do you mean by that?"
I meet her gaze steadily. "You heard right. You're beautiful, Sidney. And I'm not going to pretend you're not."
She shakes her head, disbelieving. "You must be drunk. I look like an absolute mess. Dirty clothes, untreated hair, and I'm clearly a lot chubbier than when we met."
"You think I give a fuck about any of that?" I ask.
"I have no idea," she says honestly. "But most men would."
"I'm not most men," I tell her. "And I'll prove it."
"How?" There's a challenge in her voice.
I only have one answer. One way to show her what I mean. I lean forward, my heart pounding against my ribs. "I hope you don't get mad," I murmur, and close my eyes.
Time slows down. I faced IEDs with less fear than this moment, afraid my lips won't find hers, that she'll get up and leave with my son. But when our mouths meet, it's like a fucking explosion inside me. Better than I remembered, better than anything.
Her lips are soft, hesitant at first, then pressing more firmly against mine. She tastes like the citrus tea we've been drinking. And, fuck, I should have never run away. I should have stayed, found out who she was beyond that one night.
She places her hands on both sides of my head, and a wave of calm washes over me, something I haven't felt in years. No demons screaming in my head, no need to clench my fists or run, nothing but this moment, this woman.
My cock throbs against my jeans, but this isn't about me. She's the one who deserves to be rewarded. For her strength, for raising our son alone, for everything.
I break the kiss and stand up, suddenly determined. She looks up at me, confusion in her eyes. "Did I do something wrong?"
"You were perfect," I assure her. "But I want more. I want to taste you."
Her eyes widen as I drop to my knees in front of the couch. I reach for the waistband of her jeans, my intentions clear. She doesn't stop me. Instead, she lifts her hips, helping me slide the denim down her legs.
She's wearing plain white cotton panties, practical and worn. Her cheeks flush with embarrassment.
"I didn't expect this to happen," she says quietly.
"I know," I tell her, my voice rough with desire. "You have nothing to worry about."
I hook my fingers into the sides of her panties, pulling them to the side rather than removing them completely. She has a small patch of auburn curls between her legs, and the sight makes my mouth water. I lean in, breathing in her scent, before pressing my tongue against her slit.
She gasps, head falling back as her fingers grip the couch cushions. The taste of her floods my mouth. Sweeter than I remembered, with a hint of salt. I groan against her flesh, the vibration making her thighs tremble on either side of my head.
I place my hands on her inner thighs, spreading her wider as I explore her with my tongue. Her wetness coats my beard, but I couldn't care less. All that matters is her pleasure, the small sounds she makes as I circle her clit with the tip of my tongue.
"Dean," she breathes, one hand moving to tangle in my hair.
I look up, meeting her eyes as I continue licking her. The sight of her… Flushed, eyes heavy-lidded with pleasure, is the most beautiful fucking thing I've ever seen.
"You don't have to—" she starts, but I interrupt her.
"I want to," I growl against her flesh. "Let me make you feel good, Sidney."
She bites her lip, nodding, and I return my attention to the task at hand. I slide one finger inside her while I focus my tongue on her clit, and she's so tight, so wet. Her hips rock against my face, seeking more friction, and I'm happy to oblige.
I add a second finger, curling them inside her as I suck her clit between my lips. Her breathing quickens, her thighs trembling, and I know she's close.
"That's it," I murmur against her. "Let go. I've got you."
She comes with a muffled cry, her hand pressed against her mouth to keep quiet. Her inner walls pulse around my fingers as I work her through it, gentling my touch as the aftershocks fade.
When she finally relaxes, I pull back, wiping my beard with the back of my hand. She looks dazed, beautiful in her dishevelment. I want to burn this image into my memory forever. Sidney sprawled on my couch, cheeks flushed, eyes hazy with satisfaction.
"Come here," she says softly, reaching for me.
I move up to sit beside her, and she immediately presses her lips to mine, tasting herself on my mouth. Her hand slides down my chest, toward the obvious bulge in my jeans.
"Your turn," she whispers.
I catch her wrist gently. "You don't have to."
"I want to," she echoes my words back to me. "Please, let me."
I release her hand, and she immediately reaches for my belt, unbuckling it with nimble fingers. The sound of my zipper is loud in the quiet room, and I lift my hips to help her pull my jeans and boxers down enough to free my cock.
"Fuck," she breathes, wrapping her hand around my length. "You're bigger than I remember."
I chuckle, the sound turning into a groan as she strokes me. "Or maybe you were just too drunk to notice."
"Maybe," she admits with a small smile. Then she leans down, taking me into her mouth, and all capacity for speech abandons me.
The wet heat of her mouth is incredible, her tongue swirling around the head of my cock before she takes me deeper. One hand grips the base, working in tandem with her mouth, while the other cups my balls gently.
"Jesus Christ," I hiss, threading my fingers through her hair. Not guiding, just connecting.
Her eyes meet mine as she bobs her head, and the sight nearly pushes me over the edge.
"Sidney," I warn, feeling the tightening in my balls. "If you don't stop, I'm going to—"