Chapter 13

Brynley

“I’ll move in.” My palms plant themselves firmly on the marble countertop in front of me. “ Permanently. ”

Wes releases another loud laugh as he slides onto the barstool in front of me.

“You won’t even know I’m here anymore.”

“I like knowing you’re here.”

“Then we both win because I’ll be here, just a little further away.”

“ A lot further away ,” he counters on an amused shake of the head. “And I personally prefer you in the main manor. Closer to me. ”

“You mean closer to hand jobs.” Dark crimson instantly stains his cheeks prompting me to lean forward and coo, “ You can have those anywhere you like, Mr. Wilcox. ”

Hungry grumbles are unfortunately for both of us interrupted by his vibrating phone. “I need to take this.”

“Puppet Boy?”

“Pham with public relations. She probably wants to run an official statement by me for the press that declares any wrongdoing in regard to my estate staff.”

I nod my understanding and turn to face the aquarium pillar in the center of the bar area.

Technically , he’s not.

Hamilton has proven to be a top-notch doctor, one who had quite an incredible career before becoming the personal concierge doctor to Wes and a pair of unnamed socialite sisters. From what Wes let slip at dinner last night, Hamilton was the only one who listened to his requests about skin graphs and avoiding reconstructive surgeries. He was also the first to recognize the signs of alcohol abuse and suggested to the others to intervene. And while he’s not my favorite – because I think he should’ve taken my mom to the actual hospital forever ago – he’s provided fantastic care.

Constant communication.

Plus , unlike the man who cuts him a monthly check, he’s more open to other possibilities than just the one he has in his head.

He still believes poison is the most likely candidate; however, he’s looking into the theory I brought up, which is all I want.

Someone to really listen to my concerns.

I don’t wanna believe anyone here could or would hurt my mom, but I’m not stupid.

I’m not na?ve.

I know people will do dark shit to get whatever it is they want.

Short cons.

Long cons.

Whatever’s convenient or necessary.

It’s why I know trust is hard to come by and not a commodity to be taken lightly.

I just hope this thing with my mom is something else.

Not that.

See, we – her and I – both know how to deal with someone you love or care about betraying you.

Wes doesn’t.

Dad gave me great directional bearings, a die-hard love of geek culture, and the guard yourself at all costs mentality that’s helped me survive more shit than I care to admit.

Wes?

I get the feeling the only tiger sharks he’s had to face are in business.

Never anything personal.

Wes ending the call prompts me to resume my leisurely strolling of the basement area of the entertainment house. “I think I should be allowed to sleep here.” One finger touches the very edge of the nearby tank that’s built into the wall. “At least one night.” Seeing several of the creatures scuttle away causes me to smirk. “I’ve always wanted to do that.”

“Sleep with the fishes?”

“Are you threatening me, Mr. Wilcox?!” I toss him a juvenile finger wag. “That’s very unprofessional.”

“You’re very…” his hand wiggles in the air as he struggles to come up with a rebuttal and answer his phone simultaneously, “unprofessional.” The frown of disappointment that follows is hilarious. “ Wilcox. ”

Not surprised by the action, I return to admiring the various tanks of the area.

While breakfast next to the lake was secluded and romantic, the rest of the day has been far from it. Calls and texts and emails seem never-ending, leaving me to not only have lunch alone but dinner as well since J.T. is still in Vegas. He tries to text – to check on me, knowing his best friend’s habits – however constantly forgetting where I’ve left my phone and napping through Star Trek movie marathons makes that a little difficult.

On one fin?

I don’t mind being alone.

Most of the staff are helpful if I need anything – other than Penny who I swear goes out of her way to be unhelpful – and because of the amount of staff there is, I’m never really alone for too long.

On the other?

It’s kind of like that feeling of wondering when and if the guy you really like is gonna call.

Except not call so much as come see you in his house.

Which is fucking weird.

Even for me.

Passing by the off-white, odd shaped single chair occurs for me to slip behind the long, light gray couch where I can be face to face with the biggest, most luxurious tank in the entire space.

“Would you like a tour, or would you like to continue gawking all on your own?”

His comment doesn’t even warrant a glance over my shoulder. “I can tell you ten times more about the shit in this room than you ever could me.”

“ The arrogance. ”

“ The certainty. ”

Wes lightly chortles, sound becoming more popular with me than the intro music to my favorite T.V. series.

“Look, Kirk, the reason I’m not getting any of the jobs I’m applying for isn’t because I practically flunked out of the Starfleet as a cadet.”

“I’m really gonna have to start watching this show, aren’t I?”

“ Franchise, ” I correct at the same time I spin around to face him. “And considering your best friend is a Trekkie, and the chick you’re gonna bang is a Trekkie, it feels like a wise investment of your time.”

Another round of redness pierces his uncovered face.

I love that he blushes.

I love that he talks a mean game and executes an even meaner one, yet still blushes about some sex shit. It’s definitely a reminder that despite his seemingly expert ways of the tongue, he really hasn’t been living the typical man slut lifestyle.

Unlike his second in command who sleeps with whatever while waiting for the one he’s in love with to love him back.

Because I like him – he’s a sweet nerd underneath all the fancy suits – I want him to get his dream girl.

I just don’t want his dream girl to be her.

And I honestly don’t believe Penny is.

My deep dive instincts are telling me his fixation on her is more about wanting someone not looking to leech off of him or his best friend, which is a fair enough want if you fucking ask me.

“Alright.” Wes folding his arms across his black hoodie covered chest is attached to a command regarding the original statement. “Tell me why you believe you aren’t being called in for interviews.”

“Because everywhere I can find and apply wants experience and you can’t get experience unless someone hires you.”

“Paid internship.”

“Great for college grads fresh out. Less great for those of us that haven’t had a TA grade our work in a hot min.”

“Volunteer.”

“Not an option. I already struggle enough to pay my bills without adding a catch and release program to it.” Seeing his mouth twitch – clearly ready to argue or offer me a handout I don’t want – pushes me to playfully suggests, “Let’s play strip facts!”

“What the fuck is that?”

“Basically, strip poker with fish facts.”

The corner of his lips curl in obvious curiosity. “ I’m listening. ”

“Our clothes are currency. We place bets on my ability to impress you with my marine knowledge of the creatures currently in this room.”

“So, you impress me, I take off whatever I bet, you don’t, and you take off whatever you did?”

“Why did you feel the need to clarify that like I was speaking fucking Klingon?”

“That’s not a real language.”

“ Debtable. ”

“No Google assistance?” Wes cautiously questions, ignoring my retort. “You can only use what you already know?”

“Do you just like the sound of your own voice?”

“How do you know I won’t be dishonest simply to see you naked sooner?”

“You didn’t last night when you had a chance to fuck me faster, I trust that you’ll operate on the same scale.”

Surprise over the statement unhinges his jaw.

Unevens his breath.

We probably could’ve banged this morning had we not had to scarf down “this is all I had in the fridge toast” in between shots of fruit juice so that he could make a morning meeting.

Gotta say.

I like dating a man with a career.

I don’t like dating a man who can’t occasionally pause it to get laid.

“You in or what?” The waggling of my eyebrows spurs a full smile to grow.

“Are there any other terms or rules or conditions?”

“Phone off.” My chin kicks to the vibrating device in his palm prior to sliding my hands in my back jean pockets. “All the interruptions are kind of a mood killer.”

His shoulders instantly plummet in regret. “ Sorry. ”

“Not the best date behavior I’ve ever endured but not the worst.”

“Do I wanna know the worst?”

“Do you really wanna talk about my exes or do you wanna get naked for me?”

“You wanna see me naked?”

“I always wanna see you naked…” Another teasing bouncing of brow is given. “At least this way it’s fun and informative for you.”

Louder, more filled with life laughter floods the large space as he shakes his head in amusement. “You’re on.” He cranes his face forward to add, “ Because I always wanna see you naked too. ”

My teeth take a tiny bite out of my bottom lip, an action I know will get him grumbling.

And groaning.

And it does.

“I’m gonna tell Park to turn the cameras off and then shut my phone down.”

Once I nod in comprehension, he proceeds to complete the task while I let my gaze casually roam around the room, mainly scouting the “cards” I’ve been dealt. “Your dad was the classic car aficionado – you still owe me a ride in that Shelby – and your mom had a slight Parisian obsession – hence all the gold mirrors according to this chick I used to bartend with at Night Heat – and you are the sexy nerd of the family – because you collect comic books,” the off the cuff listing leads my gaze back to him, “however, you have this beautiful and extensive aquarium setup, which has me wondering who in the Wilcox clan had a secondary hobby they didn’t speak of.”

“ Clark. ” He flashes his cell to display its shutdown position. “This has always been his sanctuary.”

“I knew I liked him.”

“He’s done most of the day-to-day tending himself for as long as I can remember.” The device is abandoned on the couch that’s dividing us. “Recently, Penny’s shown interest. He’s allowed her to order a couple of additions as well as to assist in the daily maintaining when she’s available.”

“You mean when she’s not spitting in the cup of tea that she later offers to me?”

“She doesn’t spit in your tea.”

“But she fucking thinks about it.”

Rather than agree with my conclusion, he merely laughs.

Rolls his eyes.

Shakes his head and motions an open palm in my direction. “What’s your opening bet?”

“My top.”

Wes helps himself to an eyeful of my blue tank top that stops right above my bellybutton. “I see your top and I call.”

“ Pussy. ”

“For betting safely?” is asked around airy laughs.

“ Yeah. ” I wind my hand around the edge of the couch so that our frames are closer together. “There’s no fun in always flying at chill speeds, Wes. Sometimes you gotta throw that baby into warp drive.”

“If I invest in the Star Trek franchise itself, will you make less reference or more?”

The teasing jab receives a mirth-filled glare. “See your pretty electric blue lobster – which isn’t actually a lobster but a crayfish – that’s pretty much segregated to his own tank in the far left corner?”

“I do.”

“We’re gonna set aside the fact you didn’t know he wasn’t a lobster – freshwater would actually be a death sentence for those – to impress you by saying there are two types of blue crayfish. Monongahela crayfish – native to the PA area yet not the only place they’re found – and the Everglades crayfish – only found in the Florida region – the latter being the one you have over there.”

His jaw instantly tumbles to the floor.

“I may have skipped study group a time or twelve to piss off a sorority girl or eight by proving I was better at chugging beer than they were at cock, but make no mistake, Mr. Wilcox.” An arrogant, unmovable smirk slips into place. “ I know my shit. ” There’s no hesitation to tug on the baggie hoodie. “Top off.”

Completely lost in bafflement, Wes simply shakes his head, tries to stifle his impressed grunt, and ditches the article of clothing on the floor.

The instant our eyes connect again, I tease, “Care to wager first this time?”

“My shirt.”

“I see your shirt and raise you, my shirt and bra .”

“I don’t have a bra to match that bet.”

“Then you either have to raise it or fold.” Mischievousness prances victoriously around as I rock on my heels. “Either way I win.”

“Fine.” Confidence I find almost impossible to resist rears its delicious head. “I raise you two shoes.”

“Calling.”

He tilts his head condescendingly and waves his hand a second time. “ Impress me. ”

“The tank back by the bar,” my chin tips that direction, encouraging him to turn his head. “You’ve got a Tiger Oscar. Oscars can be rather aggressive, which makes them difficult to keep with other fish.”

“That I knew.”

“ However ,” his gaze gravitates back to mine, “they’re known for being less aggressive with their owners learning to not only beg for food upon seeing them but to also allow themselves to be petted for treats as though they’re dogs rather than fish.”

“That…” One pointed, wagging finger is attached to a baffled sigh, “That I did not.”

“I don’t recommend it.” I slide my hands into my back jean pockets yet again. “Not only because the oils of our skin can have a negative effect on their body chemistry, but also because less aggressive is still technically aggressive, and no one wants to lose a finger to a fish.” The tiniest shrug bounces my shoulders. “Not exactly a good story to get sympathy ass from.”

His laughter reverberates around the room so openly and freely that I find myself paralyzed in place, left with no choice but to admire it.

Adore it.

This is the man that hides underneath those layers and layers of clothing.

The man I believe he fears for the outside world to see.

One that smiles.

And laughs.

And is capable of enjoying life.

One that’s… human.

And part of him hates that he’s actually human versus some grizzly mutated monster that should never see the light of day.

Guilt is definitely a bitch.

But self-imposed guilt?

That’s the Great White of emotions.

“Droppy, droppy,” I playfully taunt at the same time I saunter away from the wall tank. “Game’s not over yet.”

“Maybe it should be?”

He’s tossed a sarcastic stare that receives more chuckles.

“I’m being hustled.”

“You were warned.”

“I was warned you knew some shit, but you’re clearly a fish shark.” The poorly worded choice of phrasing has him shaking it off during the shoe removal process. “Fact shark?” Coming out of his sneakers precedes him shedding his shirt. “Whatever shark.” The article is carelessly thrown over his shoulder. “You’re taking me for all I’ve got, Miss Winters.”

“ Oh, I’m about to, Mr. Wilcox… ” Now at the edge of the corner of the bar, I brace my elbows on the surface and smugly lean backwards. “This next bet, I’m going all in.”

“You have more to work with than me.”

“Then you better figure some shit out or you’ll – again – be forced to fold.”

An unhappy rumble escapes; however, he says nothing.

Takes a moment to stroll his shirtless figure around territory in contemplation.

Which is fine by me.

Between this man’s abs and ass, I’ve got plenty to hold my interest.

“I see your clothes,” he begins upon his arrival at the bar beside me, “and am matching by allowing you a shopping spree to replace the ones you left behind during your last abrupt move.”

The thoughtfulness of the bet is hard to ignore.

While I don’t do handouts, the thought of this one counts for a lot.

“However, I’m also going to raise you.”

“ Ballsy. ”

“I win and you not only get naked, you will allow me to look at your résumé to see how it can be improved; therefore, increasing your chances to start the career we both know you belong building.”

Not one to be outdone is what leads me to countering, “I win and I get to strip you myself , have the shopping spree, and look at your very extensive comic collection as our next date.”

“ Deal. ”

Despite having more on the line now than before, I keep a cool demeanor and just beam brightly.

Afterall, this is my world.

He’s just poor little Nemo trying to convince me he’s a friend, not food.

His mistake.

“There are a number of creatures in here I could win with. For instance, there’s the green spotted pufferfish – who you have to be careful to avoid confusing with the simple green pufferfish – that labs sometimes use for genetics due to them having the same number of genes as humans.” I effortlessly point over his shoulder. “Then there’s the flame angelfish – that gorgeous hot little piece behind,” the gesture is repeated over my own right shoulder, “that in the wild lives a crazy harem lifestyle but for an aquarium shouldn’t be paired with more than two females,” my hand dramatically cups the side of my mouth, “probably for alimony reasons.” More laughter shaking his delicious torso has me anxious to deliver the kill. “But I’m gonna go with the kissing gourami aka the kissing fish in the main area aquarium.”

“You think you’re gonna impress me with fish that make out?”

“ And there’s the kicker. ” I saucily wink. “They’re not actually kissing.”

“What?”

“Yeah, they’re locking jaws and pushing each other around in the water, typically battling for territory.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“They’re flirting.”

“They’re fighting.”

“ No. ”

“ One hundred percent. ”

“That’s…” Befuddlement tumbles through his scrunching expression. “They aren’t…” His dumbfoundment deepens. “False advertisement!”

“ Eh ,” leaves me before girlish giggles. “People prefer a good love story over a good hate one any day.”

He meets my gleaming gaze with an agape expression. “I don’t…believe you.”

“No, you don’t wanna believe me.”

“Yes.”

This time snickers leave us both prior to me rolling a finger around for theatrical effect. “Let me hear it, Wes.” Arrogance runs rapid all over again. “Tell me I win.”

Watching him swallow his pride is almost more entertaining than the entire game itself. “You win, Bryn.”

I clamp my hands together and rock them near my each of ears as though a crowd is cheering.

“How did I know you wouldn’t be a gracious victor?”

“Because I practically scream terrible loser.” One more round of laughs precedes me closing the gap between. “ Time to nut up, Mr. Wilcox. ”

“ Why do I get the feeling you don’t mean that figuratively, Miss Winters? ”

My heated stare remains pasted in his while my fingertips curl around the waistband of his sweats and designer boxer briefs. “ Because I don’t. ”

Suggestive groans linger on the tip of his tongue; however, there’s no objection.

No resistance.

No opposition to me slowly lowering the pair down, nails carnally clawing at the skin it crosses during my descent to the floor.

His freshly exposed cock noticeably thrums during my passing, pre-cum practically pleading for me to taste it.

Him.

Stopping my mouth from swallowing him whole in one swift motion doesn’t even cross my mind. Deep guttural groans rattle Wes’s entire frame, inspiring me to clutch onto his ass for leverage. The taute, round territory instantly stiffens in my hold in tandem to his shaft doing the same.

“ Slow down, baby ,” he breathlessly begs, body struggling to stay upright. “ I haven’t… ”

Whatever the end to his sentence is doesn’t exactly matter.

I know how long it’s been since.

I also know it means he won’t last.

And that’s fine.

I don’t need to be on my knees for the ninety minutes to prove I’m head of the class.

I just wanna make sure I’m the only one getting this privilege.

“ Bryn… ” suddenly flutters the air in a mixture of desperation and desire.

The intoxication combination prompts me to grip his ass harder.

Use it to shove his dick down the back of my throat.

Pump him faster and faster into wet, slippery confines until I’m helplessly gagging around the swelling intruder.

“ Fuckfuck, ” hits my ears in tandem with his fingers latching onto my hair. “ Fuckthatsgood. ”

Brushes of my nose occurring at the base of his cock barely precedes spit savagely spilling out the corners of my mouth, leaking onto his tensing inner thigh, sloppily heading for his balls that are barbarically bouncing against my chin. Each slap from them spurs me to suck harder.

Faster.

Work my tongue along the underside of shaft while letting his dick cut off my ability to catch my breath over and over again.

Gravelly groans propel themselves out of him every time he propels himself into me and the barbaric oscillation successfully soaks my panties.

Not that that was a challenge for him.

He basically uses a more authoritative tone, and I’m ready to go a few rounds, damn whatever else is on the schedule.

My bobbing motions steadily continue at the same pace until Wes’s cock begins to swell consistently in a wordless warning. At that point, I allow it to transpose into something entirely ferocious and frantic and unrestrained, teetering the line between deliciously deranged and dangerously demonic.

Obsession to have him the way he had me this morning overpowers logic and sanity alike until Wes hisses through gritted teeth, “ I’m too fucking close, baby. ”

Sliding myself back onto my heels, breaking his hold, is done just in time to allow the first burst of cum to land in the center of my extended tongue. The sensation alone is more than enough to have him passionately groaning; however, the added combination of seeing it coat the space and watching me, watch him through my blue mascara covered eyelashes ignites heavier, more possessive growling as scorching spurts drip downward, coating my chin.

Neck.

Chest.

“ I like you in white, little prey. ” He steals a slow, predatory lick of his perfect lips. “ You look good enough to fucking eat…”