A/N: Just a head's up, the Aliyah in this story is not Aalyah Mysterio. The Aliyah mentioned in this chapter is the one with Robert Stone. That's all for now. Thank you for reading.

1414 South Jefferson Ave

That was the text on Dean's phone. Nothing else had been sent since; The directions were simple and to the point. Despite this, Dean still wasn't sure he was at the right place.

Ambrose scanned his eyes over the front steps of a normal-looking suburban home in the heart of Stamford. He half-expected a warehouse, or a night club, or maybe even a shelled out Chuck E. Cheese. Not a house that anybody could own or live in. The fact that Dean had been led to a house somehow scared him more than if it were someplace shady.

Dean's eyes read the numbers above the front door: 1414. Right house, but this had to be the wrong street. Ambrose just couldn't believe a pimp would run his business out of the suburbs.

Dean rapped his knuckles against the solid wood front door. After a few heartbeats, the front door opened partially, stuck for a second, then popped back. A young woman with dark blue hair and a dark complexion had barely looked at Ambrose for three seconds before she rolled her eyes.

"Aliyah!" She yelled back into the house. "You're not supposed to invite your Tinder dates over anymore!"

"I didn't!" A voice called back, probably this 'Aliyah' person.

The blue-haired girl scoffed and rolled her eyes, facing Dean again.

"What?" She snapped her gum as she spoke; It made Dean cringe.

Dean nodded inside the house. "I'm here to see Corey."

"You a dealer?" The girl asked.

"I'm his new driver," Dean explained flatly, already fairly annoyed with this woman.

The girl grinned, smacking her lips together like she was a lion staring down its dinner.

"Oh, so you're the newbie?" the girl motioned for Dean to follow her. "I could get used to you being around."

Dean stepped into the front room of the house. He wouldn't be surprised to see torn wallpaper and people shooting heroin in the corners, but that's not what the scene was at all. It was actually well kept together. The room was well lit, none of the walls had any holes or paint falling off. There was a large sectional covering most of the floor space. A 55 inch TV sat alongside a wall near the window. A girl dolled up in too much makeup and heavy bronzer rushed down a staircase to Dean's right; To his left, three girls sat on a part of the sectional watching TV.

Dean furrowed his brow with heavy curiosity. If he didn't know any better, he'd say this was more of a sorority than a supposed house full of working girls. Hell, this place was as clean and tidy as Renee's mom and dad's house was. It was strange but oddly refreshing at the same time.

Dean followed the woman with the blue hair. A few of the girls on the sofa watched him as he walked by. The third, who had to have been barely five feet tall, waved to him with a hand gripping a lighter with a dark purple bong tucked between her legs. Dean nodded in response but quickly followed the blue-haired girl.

Dean stepped through a doorway into a kitchen. The man he came to meet sat at a table, going over paperwork and sipping at a bottle of light beer.

"Hey, Daddy," the girl with blue hair cooed as she sauntered behind Corey. She draped her arms around the man's neck and pecked his cheek. "I always love seeing you work hard. Fresh meat's here."

Corey's attention went fully to the teen in the kitchen door. "Dean! Glad you could make it," he said, a grin spread across his face.

Dean shrugged. "Got here as quickly as I could. Figured it was a good idea not to waste your time."

Corey nodded. "You're smart. I like that. I see you've already met Sasha."

Sasha fluttered a wink. "Hey."

"I know you," Dean pointed out. "You used to go to Stamford High, right? You had red hair back then."

Sasha frowned. "I hated that place. Bunch of bullshit at that place."

"No, I agree," Dean replied.

Corey spoke again. "You're already well acquainted then. That's good. Sasha is one of my more popular girls, mainly because of her specialty."

"Specialty?" Dean questioned.

Sasha smirked. "No gag reflex."

Dean chuckled dryly. "Ah. I can see why that would make you popular."

Corey dismissed Sasha from the room. As she sauntered by, Sasha batted her eyelashes at Ambrose, to which the uncomfortable young man offered a tight-lipped half-smirk and a nod. The moment Sasha left the room, Carmella entered from another door around the corner.

"Dean, why don't you take a seat?" Corey offered, gesturing at the chair across from himself. "Let's talk about business."

It occurred to Dean at that moment that he'd never seen Corey in anything other than a black button-down and a dark blazer. It was odd seeing him now in a white t-shirt and blue jeans. Seeing a more human side to Corey just seemed off, especially with how he came off the other two times they met.

"Are you hungry at all?" Carmella asked, a rather sweet tone mixed with her Jersey accent.

"No, I'm ok," Dean politely declined.

Corey stacked his paperwork and set it off to the side. "So, Dean. How are you feeling about tonight?"

"I feel fine," Dean said.

"You can relax, man," Corey chuckled. "I can tell you're nervous. If you're out of sorts, the girls will pick up on that. They sense on that shit really well. If you're freaked out, they'll be freaked out, and they won't make as much as they usually could. So take a breath. We're all friends here."

Dean did release a heavy sigh. He'd understandably been on his guard the moment he stepped through the door. The fact that Corey was telling him to relax could've been as simple as that, but Ambrose just never could fully simmer in new situations.

"I am kinda surprised about the laid back feel around this place," Ambrose admitted. "I'm actually kinda shocked we're here and not some crackhouse off the highway."

Corey laughed once, then shook his head lightly. "I get that. I say 'working girls' and everyone assumes I rule with an iron fist and treat my girls like garbage. I don't. I treat them like I would my sisters. If my girls are sick don't want to work, I won't make them. They're having a bad day, I give them what they need; Medicine, pot, a few bucks so they can go to the fuckin' beauty salon. My point is, I'm running a business here. Your business is only as good as your employees. Employees are overworked and tired, they won't perform to the best of their capabilities and I lose customers. Treat them like actual people, then we have a returning customer. Do you know how many customers I have every week?"

Dean shook his head. "No."

"A hundred and thirty-two. And that's when it's slow," Corey told, his tone suddenly growing more anxious and angry. "And I have people telling me what I do is a fucking crime? Is it? It's two consenting adults agreeing to trade currency for a product. How the fuck is this any different than a job at the supermarket? I'm paying two of these girls through college. One of them is raising twins by her fucking self. Aliyah needed to go home for her father's funeral. Would Godfather do that? The fuck he would!"

"Baby, relax," Carmella cooed, placing several slow kisses on Corey's cheek. "There's no need to be upset. You know mama loves you and appreciates all the hard work you do."

Corey took a deep breath. "You're right, Mel. Sorry. My apologies, Dean. I have the police up my ass and the fuckin' Godfather crawling into my territory. I don't like losing my temper, but it happens."

"I get it," Dean assured. He cleared his throat. "I don't mean to step on toes, but who's the Godfather."

Graves sat up in his seat. "This other pimp in town. Fuck, I hate that fucking word. You want the typical 'hole-in-the-wall-full-of-STDs-and-cocaine' whorehouse, then go check his place out over by the south end trailer park."

Dean's stomach slowly started sinking to his shoes. "His name doesn't happen to be Kama Mustafa, right?"

Corey narrowed his eyes. "How do you know that?"

"I lived three lots behind him when I was a kid," Dean explained, his eyes falling to the floor. "He'd have cookouts every Sunday. I always loved going cuz he had hotdogs and cable TV. My mom would mooch drugs off him. He went to prison right before I started high school. One of my mom's boyfriends called the feds on him... then he went missing."

"He got out on good behavior two years ago," Corey said. "I've been doing this for four, but because he's suddenly a man of God and moving girls instead of drugs he's the king of the fucking game and not me."

"Ice him then," Dean suggested bluntly.

"His cousin's the DA," Corey hissed.

"I know," Dean muttered.

Sudden memories from his childhood made Dean clench his fists at his sides. He still woke up screaming some nights when his nightmares felt too real. Elle was a heavy sleeper but Renee was quick like a flash to soothe her husband. Dean could still feel the cigar burns and backhands on his darkest days. Honestly, if it weren't for Renee or Elle, Dean really didn't think he'd still be around. As much as that scared him to death, he was just happy Renee thought he was doing a good enough job for the sake of the family. Dean didn't think so, but he was just happy that Renee was content with what they had.

"They outta tear that place to the ground," Dean growled.

"You and me both, man," Corey said. "Anyway, fuck south side. We're here to do business tonight. How are you driving stick?"

Dean scratched his chin. "I'm alright. I can drive either."

Corey nodded. "Good. Because I don't want you to use your own car. Cops pull you over, and it's your car full of girls, you're toast. This van is registered to a priest that technically doesn't exist."

"Ok. So what do I do?" Dean questioned.

"The girls all have their own phones. I'll text them each where they need to go," Corey explained. "Your job is to take them to their 'appointments' and pick them up when they're done. Some of them will have more than one tonight, some won't. Nobody comes back home until everyone is done. Nobody gets paid unless all of my girls make it back. When you get out there, have the girls get your number so they can text you after their appointment. Any questions?"

"What happened to your last driver?" Dean questioned. "I mean, this seems like a pretty straight forward gig."

"Yeah, well, 'Slick' Rick was a good driver but had a terrible sense of loyalty," Graves stated. "He tried going to Godfather for a job... police fished him out of the river the next morning."

Dean shook his head. "Well, unfortunately, I'm loyal to a fault."

Graves grinned. "Good. Come on. I'll introduce you to the girls."

Corey led the way back into the living room. The same three girls sat on the sofa, only this time two more were in the room, one of them being Sasha."

"Ladies, how are we doing tonight?" Graves asked the room.

"AJ won't share the stash, Daddy," a blonde whined, sitting to the left of the short girl with the glass pipe.

The girl named AJ clutched tighter to her bong. "But it's mine. I paid for this with my own money."

"But whose weed is it, AJ?" Corey asked calmly.

AJ rolled her eyes. "Yours. Sorry, Daddy."

"Thank you for sharing, AJ," Graves glanced back at Ambrose. "Ladies, this is Dean. He's your new driver. Tonight is his first night, so make him feel welcome, ok?"

"Oh, I can do that," Sasha cooed from the corner of the room.

Dean lightly shook his head. "I think I'll have to decline, Sasha. Thank you though."

Sasha shrugged but kept a smug smirk on her rose paletted lips.

Corey continued. "Anyway, the one with the bong is AJ. She is bipolar and has high anxiety so she is usually getting high and racking up my grocery bill."

AJ blew a puff of smoke from her lips. "But I am good at what I do. Haven't had a disappointed customer yet."

Corey gestured at the couch. "The two blondes here are Tay and Candice. Candice's husband Johnny lives with us because he is unable to care for himself."

"Why's that?" Dean questioned.

"He lost both his legs in a driveby," Candice said, in a rather alarmingly casual manner.

"Ah," Dean muttered.

"Uh, Tay doesn't speak English that well, so try to be patient with her," Corey turned to a girl who was walking out of a doorway next to the kitchen. "That is Sonya. She is your back up in case things get weird. She can and has sent people to the ER."

Sonya shrugged. "I do my best."

"There's one more..." Corey looked to the staircase as someone began descending them. "Ah! Eva. Right on cue."

Eva Marie smiled politely, but it quickly faded when she spotted Dean. Ambrose, a shit-eating grin on his face, stared silently back at his best friend's ex. Though with no real room to judge, it did make Dean a little happy on the inside to see Seth's cheating ex working as a service girl these days.

"That is everyone," Corey mentioned. "I'll text everyone their first customers in a sec. Dean, the keys are in the van. Give the girls your number before you go anywhere."

One by one, each girl started to file out of the house. They each said goodbye to Corey and gave him a kiss on the cheek. Carmella was the last to walk out the door, but she gave her husband a full kiss on the lips before shuffling to the outside.

Dean stepped up to his boss. "I won't disappoint, boss."

Corey nodded. "I know. Here."

Graves opened Dean's jacket and tucked something in the side pocket. Dean, with a lump in his throat, didn't have to check twice to know Graves just packed a gun in his jacket. Dean wasn't afraid of firearms, but the idea of having to possibly use one made his heart thud against his ribcage.

"What's that for?" Dean asked, referring to the gun.

"Just in case one of my girls doesn't get her pay," Corey stated. "You know how to use one, right? You're a southside boy just like I was."

Dean nodded. "I do. Never on anyone, but I used to shoot bottles with my buddies back in high school."

"Perfect," Corey stuck out his hand for Dean to shake. "I don't doubt you'll be just fine. Stop for gas when you can too, by the way."

Dean nodded, shaking Corey's hand before stepping into the chilly night. With a deep breath and a mildly guilty conscience, Dean rounded the house and up the driveway to the van full of women.

Dean popped open the driver's door and slid into the seat.

"Can you turn the heat on?" AJ asked from the third row.

Dean flipped the visor down, dropping the keys into his lap.

"No! My hair frizzles up when I get warm!"

"Well, I can't help that I can't feel my toes, Sasha!"

"Can you two not fucking yell at each other?"

"Estas siendo demasiado ruidosa."

"Hey! Stop arguing!" Dean called out over the girls. "If you don't stop, we aren't getting ice cream after!"

The group of women quieted down. Dean sighed and turned the engine over.

"Will you really get us ice cream?" Candice asked.

Dean chuckled. "Sure. If you guys can go the whole night without fighting, I'll buy everyone ice cream."

"Better duct tape AJ's mouth shut then," Sonya muttered.

"Hey!" AJ yelled out.

"And you already lost," Dean muttered. He spoke up. "Who's up first?"

"Me," Carmella said from the first row. "Corner of Third and Washington; Rehberg Apartments."

Dean shifted the van into gear. It was a little tough getting the hang of a manual shifter again, but he steadily rolled down the driveway and out onto the street.

One after the other, each girl called out their requested addresses. One appointment needed both Candice and Tay to go together. AJ had three in a row in the span of about an hour. Sasha walked into her appointment with her makeup perfect and her attire visually appealing, but when Dean came to pick her up it looked as though she was attacked by a cheetah.

At one point, Dean was in the van by himself. AJ had just downed an entire energy drink in four seconds and sprinted into an apartment complex. Dean shook his head but took his brief time alone to relax a little.

Dean pulled out his phone. Other than old texts from the girls asking for him to pick them up, he didn't have anything waiting for him. Though he knew the chances were slim, Ambrose hoped Renee would've texted him something sappy just to cheer him up. She'd do that sometimes while he still worked at the post office and it would lift Dean's spirits. But for now, Dean just scrolled through his photo gallery, looking at pictures of Elle. After all, the only reason he was awake at three AM was to make sure she never lived life like he had to.

Dean's phone received a notification.

Aliyah: Hey, I'm done. 312 Abraham, remember? :)

Dean sighed. Though the break was short, he appreciated the quick breather in-between the chaos that was eight women screaming at each other or talking about their clients.

Aliyah stood on the curb outside the house she'd been requested to visit. Dean stopped the van for the young woman, letting her jump into the passenger's seat before rolling away.

Aliyah pulled down the visor to check her hair.

Dean drummed his fingers against the steering wheel. He didn't know if was supposed to make small talk or not with the girls, but the silence was maddening.

"It's only awkward if you make it that way, boss," Aliyah said as she flipped the visor closed. She flashed Dean a smile. "You don't have to make small talk with us. It's alright."

"I just don't know what to say to y'all when you come back," Dean admitted with a shrug. "Like, do I ask how it went. Obviously, I would do something if you got stiffed or the guy was doing shit he wasn't supposed to."

"Do you wanna know how it went?" Aliyah asked.

"Kinda, I guess," Dean said. "Unless it was really weird. Then no."

Aliyah laughed. "It's not always 'dress up in latex and step on me'. This last guy just wanted me to sit and talk to him for a little while. A lot of them just like the company more than the sex."

Dean nodded. "So you didn't do anything with him?"

"Well, I still gave him a handjob after he was done blubbering about his ex-wife," Aliyah giggled.

Dean chuckled dryly. "Fair enough," the dashboard lit up with a soft ding; the van was low on gas. "I'm gonna stop for some gas quick, ok? Where's your next thing?"

"I'm done for the night," Aliyah told.

Dean pulled up to an empty pump at a twenty-four-hour gas station. As he lifted the nozzle into the side of the van, Aliyah leaned against the driver's door and lit a cigarette.

"Smoking near gasoline?" Dean snickered. "You wanna blow us up?"

Aliyah smirked. "Don't spray me and we should be fine."

Dean started to speak, but stopped himself and shook his head.

"What?" Aliyah pressed with a giggle.

"Nothin'. It was a bad joke," Dean said.

"Tell me," Aliyah insisted. "I like jokes."

Dean sighed. "I was gonna say, 'it wouldn't be the first time a guy sprayed you in the face'. Bad joke, see?"

Aliyah tutted her tongue. "I thought it was funny. And you're right. It's ok to make jokes about this, ya know."

"It just feels like I'm being disrespectful though," Dean admitted.

"Well, if you were being a dick about it, sure," Aliyah took a hit from her cigarette. "But you're just telling jokes to pass the time. There's no harm in that."

Dean nodded, feeling a little more eased around Aliyah. "What brought you to this job? If you don't mind me asking."

Aliyah bit her lip. "I love sucking hard cock."

Dean chuckled uncomfortably. "This is the perfect job then."

Aliyah snickered. "I'm kidding. It's paying for my college classes. All of my shit is online anyway, so I sleep mostly during the day. I don't mind having to do this to pay for tuition and all that."

"What do you wanna do?" Dean asked.

"Sports media," Aliyah said. "I used to have a job with the radio station on campus. Then they found out what I do to pay for school and fired me. Almost got expelled, but they decided to put all of my courses online so I didn't have to come onto campus anymore."

"That's pretty shitty," Dean commented.

Aliyah shrugged. "It is what it is. What about you? Why are you up this late driving me around?"

Dean didn't like talking about his personal life with people he didn't know personally, especially people at work. But, since Aliyah was straight forward with him, Dean did feel a little more willing to open his gates a little.

"I wife a wife and baby daughter at home," Dean said. "My wife goes to SU during the day, so I have to make some cash so she can keep doing that. And I don't want my daughter to have to deal with the same shit I did, so I'm trying to make life easier for her."

Aliyah smiled broadly. "How old's your daughter?"

"Almost four," Dean said. "Hasn't spoken yet, but she loves dolls and toy hammers."

"That's so adorable," Aliyah said with a laugh. "AJ brings her twins around every once in a while. They're right around that age too."

"AJ's the one with the twins?" Dean asked, surprised by the reveal.

"Yeah. She got knocked up by this big macho UFC fucker that refused to do a paternity test," Aliyah slowly shook her head. "I had to talk Corey out of killing him. But the boys are sweethearts. Look just like her."

Dean noticed a woman storm past the van. "Sonya? Where'd you come from?"

Sonya threw her hand in the direction she came. "The chick dropped me off here. I don't wanna talk about it."

Dean smirked. "Looks like I wasn't the only one who got their hours cut, eh?"

Sonya threw a middle finger over her shoulder while she stomped into the store.

Dean chuckled under his breath. "Sonya was my supervisor at the post office in town," he told Aliyah. "She cut my hours, but it looks like hers did too."

"Yeah, she's still pretty new," Aliyah recalled. "Real nice fiance. The ass on her, let me tell ya."

Dean nodded. "I can drink to that."

After Dean finished with the gas, Aliyah put out her cigarette, and Sonya returned from the shop with a bottle of water, the trio went around the city collecting the rest of the women. With no other customers for the night, Dean fulfilled his promise of taking everyone to a fast food place that still served ice cream this late at night. With everyone getting a frozen treat, Dean then made the drive back to the house and parked the van in the driveway.

Dean let the girls enter the house before him. Tay, Candice, and Sonya traveled upstairs. AJ returned to her spot on the couch and cuddled her bong. Aliyah stepped into the kitchen, Eva sat on the opposite end of the couch from AJ, and Sasha stepped outside again.

Dean shuffled into the kitchen. Corey stood at the table, counting that night's earnings; A small mound of cash laid before him in neat little stacks based on their value.

"How'd it go?" Corey asked without looking up from the money. "Not bad for your first day, right?"

Dean shrugged. "Yeah. It went pretty smoothly. What'd they make?"

Corey stepped back from the table. "Around twelve grand. Not too bad. That's a cool twelve hundred for you, Mr. Dean."

Aliyah flashed a smile. "Good job tonight, driver."

Ambrose watched to woman leave the room. He smirked to himself, then turned back to his boss.

Corey handed Dean a stack of cash. "You earned it. I will need my gun back though. I'm glad it didn't need to be used."

Dean handed over the gun, while at the same time collecting the money. Graves tucked the gun in his waistband and nodded.

"You did good, kid," Graves praised with a smirk. "Keep this up, you'll be a very wealthy man. Same time tomorrow?"

Dean nodded. "I can do that. Thanks again. Both of you. You have no idea what this means to me."

"I can imagine," Graves said.

Dean said goodnight as he headed for the door. In the living room, AJ was still smoking weed while Eva sulked on her end of the couch.

Eva looked up from the TV. "I'm sure you're just loving this, aren't you?"

"Loving what?" Dean asked.

"That I'm doing this to get by after what I did to Seth?" Eva spat, shaking her head slowly.

"No. I'm not," Dean stated. "I couldn't care less what you do with your life. I do care that you broke my boy's heart a few years back, but I don't give a shit anymore. You do what you gotta do, man."

Eva shrugged. "Fine. Whatever."

AJ nudged her sneakers against Eva's leg. "Sulking is bad for you. That's what my nurse wife tells me."

"Nurse wife?" Dean repeated.

Eva sighed. "AJ's girlfriend is an ER nurse. And she never shuts up about it."

"Especially when I'm high on weed and Redbull," AJ added.

Dean said goodnight to both women. He headed straight for his car, wanting nothing but to get home and have a few hours of sleep before he had to run Zerox. He had almost gotten his keys out of his pocket when Sasha, of all people, walked up to him.

"Hi," Sasha smiled, looking Dean up and down. "You forgot to say goodbye to me."

"Sorry, I was in a rush," Dean said over his shoulder, trying to find his keys faster.

Sasha reached for Dean. "I'll grab them for you."

Instead of digging in his pocket, Sasha grabbed Dean between the legs. Dean gasped in surprise and stepped out of Sasha's reach. The blue-haired vixen fluttered her eyelashes and pinched her bottom lip between her teeth.

"What's wrong?" Sasha cooed. "I won't charge you for a little over-the-pants-handy."

Dean held a hand between himself and Sasha. "I'm married. Happily married. I plan to keep it that way for the rest of my life."

Sasha playfully frowned, sticking out her bottom lip. "But I have no gag reflex. I can easily take seven... eight... nine?"

Dean wrestled his keys from his pocket. "I'm good. But thanks for the offer."

Before Sasha could get another word in, Dean was in his car and driving off.

Dean crept into his apartment, trying hard not to wake either his wife or daughter. His heart nearly leaped from his chest when he realized the living room light was on and his half-asleep wife was sitting on the couch.

"Hey," Renee called from the couch, her voice low and weak.

"Are you ok?" Dean asked, locking the door and pulling his jacket off.

Renee nodded. "Just a little stomach ache. Too much pizza, I think."

Dean chuckled. "Well, that's what happens when you make it so freakin' good, baby."

Renee closed her eyes as Dean leaned down to kiss her on the lips. Dean let it linger, grinning to himself when Renee giggled because he tickled her under the arm.

"How was work?" Renee asked.

Dean chuckled. "It was alright. Not that exciting."

Renee's eyes fell a little lower on her husband. "Oh, hi there. Is that from us kissing?"

Dean turned away. "No, it's uh... my pants are sitting weird..."

Renee turned her husband back towards her by his hands. She lazily glanced up at him with a tired smile, then licked her lips when her fingers found his zipper.

"Really?" Dean muttered, finding the lust-crazed look in his wife's eye the near antidote to the wild night he had.

Renee shrugged. "Daddy worked all night. Daddy needs to relax."

"Mama has a bellyache," Dean reminded with a soft chuckle. "Baby, really. Let's get you back to bed."

Renee shook her head. "Dean, if you don't let me suck your cock, I swear to God..."

"Why are you all over me all of a sudden?" Dean asked. "Six grand wasn't that cool, ok? It's almost gone already."

Renee parted the fold in Dean's briefs. "I... I dunno. I kinda feel bad making you work all the time while I get to go and do whatever the hell I want and you're breaking your back for us. Buying cold medicine for shady bitches. The things you do for me and Elle is so fucking important, so I think a few bjs and sex is my way of holding up my end."

Dean stood his wife up, making sure she looked him in the eye while he spoke. "You don't owe me anything. I work so you can go to school and keep buying dolls for Elle after she breaks more with her hammer."

Renee tutted. "Yeah, but still. I feel like I don't do enough."

"You pushed a human out of you," Dean said, making Renee laugh. "You married me. You're the smartest, sweetest, bravest woman I know. You're doing way more than whatever the hell 'your fair share' even means."

Renee nestled her face in Dean's chest. "I love you so much, baby."

Dean grinned. "I love you too, Rey..." He grunted, feeling Renee's grip surround his throbbing member. His breathing grew choppy and labored as Renee moved her hand; Even the most vanilla of things from Renee gave him the best feelings in the world.

Soon, Dean swiftly stimulated his wife between her legs while she pleasured him in return. Renee stared her husband in the eye, moaning lightly and giggling at any sound Ambrose produced. Renee held Dean's cock between her legs. Dean, taking the lead, moved his hips back and forth. There was no penetration, obviously, but the friction was enough to get Renee off and make Dean unload in her pajama bottoms.

Dean pecked his wife between the eyes. "I love you so much."

"I love you more," Renee giggled. "Cuddles now?"

Dean grinned. "Yes, my love."

Renee shuffled back for the bedroom. Dean stepped forward but stopped when he remembered where he'd been the entire night. Though he was providing for his wife and daughter, the stack of cash in Dean's pocket felt as though it was made of lead.