Chapter 7

Wes

Did I expect to spend two hours with my son, just one on one?

No.

Did I expect him to share with me everything in his giftbox?

No.

Did I expect him to ask me advice about a “fakie” trying to float in on his territory or how to have long distance territory?

Hell no.

And fuck, I don’t even know if I did the last one correctly, but I tried.

He let me try.

He didn’t brush me off.

He didn’t insist on asking one of his uncles or Bryn.

He listened to me.

And I listened to him.

As much as it pains me to admit, J.T. was right.

Getting to really know my son is a gift.

The perfect gift.

I’m not sure that there’s anything better.

Walking into our luxury, black with gold accents bedroom occurs at the same time I’m finishing up the call with O’Malley, our newest pilot. “Let’s say one o’clock.”

“Is that a Wes one o’clock or a Bryn one o’clock or should I split the difference?”

I gently shut and lock the door behind me once I’m inside. “The latter may be in everyone’s best interest. The girls understand punctuality; however, the rest of the household – which includes J.T. and his league– are rarely as prompt when it comes to family outings.”

“Understood, Sir.”

“Leaving at that time should put us there rather late; however, it’ll allow us to spend all of Christmas Eve and Christmas Day in Doctenn without having most of it eaten up by travel.” My attention wanders around the room, curiously scanning for the troublemaker I married. “Let’s plan to fly home the 27 th . J.T. and I have our annual in-house distillery and brewer’s conference the 28 th .”

“Yes, Sir.”

“You and Baird are welcomed to stay in the guesthouse during our duration – per usual – and are of course invited to any festivities we may engage in.”

“I’ll let Baird know, Sir.”

“ Wes. ”

“Wes,” he politely corrects. “I’ll begin preparations. Is there anything else we need to know?”

“Not at this time. I’ll call back if that changes.”

“Understood, S – er – Wes. ”

Ending the call is followed by sliding the device back into my pocket despite knowing there are a few more people to contact to make this whole thing possible.

They can wait.

At least for a few minutes while I make up with my wife.

“ Bryn… ” I casually call out the direction of our ensuite bathroom. “You in here?”

“I am,” she sassily answers, appearing in the doorway wearing only the bawdy sweater she had on earlier. “What do you need, Mr. Wilcox?”

To remove that hideous article with my teeth is not the correct answer.

It may be the answer I want to be correct ; however, I know that it isn’t.

“To apologize to you , Mrs. Wilcox.”

At that, the love of my life leans triumphantly against the frame. “You have my full attention.”

“You were right.”

“That’s why I wear the gold shirt.”

Not smirking is impossible. “You’re actually wearing a sweater.”

She looks down at the thick black material, pretends to gasp, and says, “You’re right. This is a sweater. I should just take it off.” In one effortless swoop, she banishes the object into the bathroom behind her, unveiling the bright red, ribbons and bow based lingerie set that was hiding underneath. “Anyway, you were saying?”

That my wife is a supervillain I’d absolutely let burn Gotham down to the ground if it meant making her happy.

“Have you…” I attempt to banish the low, hungry rumble stuck in my throat, “been wearing this underneath your attire all day?”

“ I have. ”

“For me.”

“For when you came to your senses.” Arrogance curls the corners of her lips. “Good behavior should be rewarded, Mr. Wayne.” Wolfish growls are attached to me creeping closer, an action swiftly stopped by the lifting of her palm. “ Ah. Ah. ” My figure completely freezes. “You were apologizing for something? Perhaps for being a complete and total d-bag earlier? Perhaps for implying that because I chose to lead parenting our son with sympathy and empathy and patience, I was weak?”

“I was out of line.”

“ You were out of the fucking galaxy, Wes. ”

“Yes.”

Her shoulders noticeably relax.

“You know our son better than I do. You’ve always known him better than I do, and I let my own personal rage regarding that blind me to what was actually happening, which was you doing what was best for him. Giving him space. Doing what you could to keep the situation from escalating.”

She lets one hand victoriously fall to her hip. “ Go on. ”

“You’re…an incredible mom, Bryn-”

“Agreed.”

“-and I’m a struggling dad.”

Compassion crumples her frame slightly forward. “ Wes… ”

“It’s true.” An innocent shrug precedes me inching closer again. “But the only way to struggle less is to learn more.” Her body slowly begins to come towards mine. “To stop…treating our family – especially our son – like I’m the boss and everyone just works for me.” She continues closing the gap between us. “We’re all in this together. All of us have needs. And wants. And fears. And I need to be more receptive to that.”

“Our son – in particular – would appreciate that.”

“I know.” My arms wind around her waist the second she’s within reach. “He expressed as much.”

Joy accompanies Bryn running her hands up my biceps. “You two talked?”

“We did.”

“And?”

“And we’re going to Doctenn for Christmas.”

Relief unyieldingly rolls around her expression.

“I’ve already been in touch with our pilot; however, I still need to contact Mildred, our property keeper, Park – about a last-minute security plan – Temps – to help the girls pack and see if they wanna go – Clark and Lauren, J.T. and Nae, plus I need to get in touch with Brie and Kellan to see if it’s possible that they can make time for their daughter to even see our son.”

“Of course, it’s possible,” Bryn boastfully beams. “We’re having Christmas dinner with them at the palace.”

My head falls to one side in disbelief.

“Yeah, so, while I was actively supporting your ‘no’ – because you know parents united front bullshit – I was also actively putting things in place for the hopeful ‘yes’.” Her smile swiftly stretches from ear to ear. “And by I, I mean we because let’s face it. When it comes to planning shit – especially big family shit – no one is better at it than Mom and Clark.”

“So, everyone and everything is pretty much ready to go?”

“They’re just waiting on your green light, Saint Dick. ”

“What I’m about to do with my dick is far from saintly.” Before she can even consider scrambling away, my fingers slide along the curve of her ass and possessively clamp down. “ Can I unwrap my gift now, Little Prey? ”

The love of my life bites her bottom lip.

Lightly hums in feigned contemplation.

“ Tell me yes. ” I slide my middle finger underneath the thin string and lightly press it against the backside of her recently waxed pussy causing her mouth to crack open just enough for my thumb to slip into the gap where it teasingly traces the space. “ I see my name right here. ” Delicious defiance dancing in her crystal gaze prompts me to push the tip of my digit deeper into the wet warmth that’s wordlessly begging for it. “ Tell me I can have what’s mine. ”

Her glare becomes even more hooded on an airy, “ Yes. ”

Pleased grumbles preface additional feathery presses. “ Yes, what? ”

“ Yes, ” she moans out as her nails momentarily cut into the fabric of my t-shirt. “ Yes, you can have me. ”

This time it’s me who gets to display a triumphant grin.

Gliding my hands up the length of her spine is followed by them working together to undo the hooks holding her bra in place. The instant they’re undone, the lacy red material loosens allowing me to guide my fingertips along the straps to assist in the removal process. Down… down…down…goes the accessory, slowly but surely exposing her full tits.

Her dark nipples which are now hardening under my stare.

That I love to watch harden under my stare.

Ravenously cupping them both occurs before the object has even managed to hit the ground. “ Still so fucking perfect, Little Prey. ” My thumbs greedily graze the peeks. “ And still all mine. ”

Capturing one hardened nipple between my teeth receives a delectable gasp, while sinking them in further, adding pressure along with the tiniest inkling of pain pushes Bryn to eagerly latch her fingers onto my locks.

Pull me closer.

Command I keep going.

Keep nipping.

Keep whirling the very tip of my tongue around and around and around while her entire body rolls into the action.

Follows the pattern.

Speed.

Trembles when I relinquish my hold only to uncontrollably shudder when I resume the sucking on the other side.

Except it’s harder.

And hungrier.

Has me squeezing tighter as I sloppily spin my tongue around to the siren sounds of my wife’s panting.

Justice League hear me now… I would sacrifice earth in its entirety to hear her make this noise for all of eternity.

Scraping my teeth away from her tits, down her toned torso, towards the top of her lacey bottoms is accompanied by my palms gluttonously groping and grasping and grating every inch of skin possible.

I love every curve that she’s acquired from having our children.

Every mark that illustrates the changes she’s endured.

Every tattoo that’s found a permanent home on her beautiful brown skin.

The shark.

The Bat signal.

The three shark fins swimming across her feet.

There isn’t a single centimeter of my woman’s body that I don’t know.

Or adore.

Or love.

Once each set of my fingers hook onto the string of her panties, they follow it around back to where it’s being held together by a single, tied bow.

One hard tug is all it takes to have the cloth cascading downward into the small space between her thighs; however, instead of letting my tongue dart forward – like its anxious to do – I snatch up the underwear.

Rise back to my feet.

Devilishly smirk and whirl my finger around. “ Turn. ”

Her lack of reluctance to do what she’s told simply makes my dick swell more.

“ Hands. ”

Bryn folds them behind her back at the same time she curiously glances over her shoulder.

It’s not unheard of for us to engage in a bit of bondage every now and again.

It’s just that every now and again tends to be when the kids aren’t home or when we’ve snuck away for a night alone at the penthouse, which is where the vast majority of our more adventurous sex accessories call home.

Watching me tie her wrists together has my wife whimpering and wiggling and whimpering again when the fabric is snuggly secure.

I gently rotate her frame towards the bed.

Roughly push her over.

Take a moment to admire her beautiful, round, bare ass while working my shaft out of my sweats.

I think the only thing I love more than having it on my face is having it bounce on my dick.

And I think if I were to ask Bryn, she’d express something similar.

With my black, designer boxer-briefs and pants kicked off to the side, I wickedly lean down, over her shoulder, and whisper, “ Remember to scream into the mattress, Little Prey. ” Grinning against the shell of her is done in tandem with nudging her legs apart. “ Wouldn’t want the kids to hear why it’s a good thing to be on the naughty list. ”

There isn’t time for her to speak or think or even fucking blink before I’m slamming my cock to the brink. Her entire body instantly arches underneath me from the impact, wildly shaking, sopping wet muscles savagely swelling as they clash between approval and disapproval.

Oscillate between acceptance and exile.

Delectable mewls become suppressed in the mattress, encouraging me to adjust my position.

Stop leaning.

Stand straight, grab her bound wrists, and barbarically yank her into me.

They’re slow yet sharp.

Deliberate.

Cause her ass to lusciously bounce on each hit and my balls to clamber upward to bathe in the torrid wetness that’s being haphazardly smeared on her thighs.

I persistently pound, keeping a passive pace, wanting her to feel the full strength of every fucking thrust, wanting – fuck that – needing to watch her body quiver and quake and struggle to withstand the force of every heave.

Needing to get lost in the salacious sight of my shaft slipping away to sign on a dotted line that I only have access to.

Both hands curl around the thin material cutting into her skin, and the view of her completely at my mercy, not complaining or criticizing, simply crying out for more has my cock thickening.

And my hips jerking harder.

And harsher.

And faster.

Feral bucking quickly becomes feral fucking as I grunt and growl and grit my teeth.

“ Mine ,” abruptly leaves me alongside a spank to her ass that receives a much louder moan.

Despite those sounds being muffled by the bed, I impatiently chase after them, ferociously pumping, littering smacks and slaps to her backside in between my relentless pounding, until I’m collapsing us onto the mattress.

Grinding her against it.

Using the rumpled sheets to add the friction her clit is desperately craving.

Hitches in her breath are heard and felt.

Heavenly pulsations rapidly grow in numbers, no longer kneading my dick, but ruthlessly milking it, demanding it’s submission.

Commanding its compliance.

For it’s cum.

“ Say it ,” I breathlessly bark, thrusting growing increasingly erratic. “ Tell me what I wanna hear, Little Prey. ” Her soaking wet muscles immediately clamp down on my cock. “ Tell me what I always wanna hear. ”

“ Yours, Wes, ” Bryn practically sobs into the mattress through her shudders. “ I’m. All. Yours. ”

Beastlike bellows get released into the side of her neck on a boorish bite as we both become completely undone. Blistering bursts splash against her throbbing muscles, searing my signature into her most sensitive depths, signing me to her and her to me in the most primitive and lecherous way possible.

Brynley Elizabth Wilcox is mine .

And only mine.

This Christmas.

The next.

Forever and always.

***

Thank you for reading Priority (A Private Series Holiday Novella)! I hope you loved this contemporary, holiday romance!