Chapter 17

Wes

I desperately search for something to like about the anniversary product proposals I was sent earlier in the week. Pushing around lackluster mockups of crystal glasses and decanters reveal other even less thrilling options of bartending sets and barrel themed flasks.

Novelty shit is probably my least favorite for our brand.

As a comic book enthusiast?

I want that shit all day long.

As a man desperate to add to his family’s hard built, earned, and expanded legacy rather than tank it?

Never.

Our liquor brand should be synonymous with elegance.

Prestige.

Not frat parties and forty-year high school reunions.

Once more, I abandon the project and reach for my nearby work tablet that’s also filled with suggestions I don’t want to see.

Like I feared, my impromptu, semi-public appearance has not only been added to the ever-churning headlines, it’s become the sole focus.

No longer am I being accused of experimenting on my estate employees as part of an investment process into pharmaceuticals – which is not an avenue I’m remotely interested in – but my alleged mistreatment of the unidentified female I’m currently involved with.

Some reports claim I dress like a James Bond villain and got into a loud, drunken disagreement with a beautiful woman not interested in my advances any longer while others claim I’m an overly hairy monster who manhandled her in the back room of a nightclub until she left with him.

There’s barely any merit to be found.

Yes, I did manhandle Bryn, but she fucking liked it.

That’s why she was screaming and coming nonstop on my cock for the next two hours.

Our little public rendezvous was wild and loud and honestly the most exhilarating thing I’ve done in my adult life.

However, that decision , which won my girlfriend over – girlfriend being the term we both agreed was best regardless of the preconceived notions about it being “too soon” – did not win any points with the women who control my public relations. In fact, they both demanded that I make an official public statement regarding the situation.

They were even kind enough to send samples.

Truthfully, I hate these even more than the shitty merchandise mocking me across my downstairs office desk.

Letting the device fall back onto the furniture is followed by me reaching for something I know will bring me momentary reprieve. I grab the nearest pen and lean back in leather chair to search for one of the remaining unfound words.

Bryn left it on my bed before work rather than my desk.

Probably because that’s where we’ve spent the majority of the last two days.

We had breakfast there.

Each other.

Lunch.

Each other again.

Sleep was had in between the activities – although not much – as well as a bit of T.V. binging alongside conversations about ex-partners, birth control choices, and circling discoveries in our new comic book themed word search I ordered earlier in the week.

When it came time for her to begin the extensive process of getting ready for the job that I hate that she has, both afternoons, she chose to do it in my bathroom where I could be near.

See that the effort really wasn’t for other men but a simple paycheck.

Watching the process each day led to us arguing – it’s apparently not romantic to offer to pay her to stay home with me instead – and eventually agreeing that she’d let me assist in the cleaning up her résumé this week to get her out of this escort adjacent lifestyle I loathe her having.

It was a small fucking victory, but one I’m thankful for.

My best friend is right.

Her refusal to bend to my will, determination to have a backbone and stand on her two feet is equally infuriating as it is intoxicating.

A light tapping from the doorway redirects my attention to where she’s sultrily leaning against the frame. “ Morning, Mr. Wilcox. ”

“Try again.”

Bryn snickers, steals a bite of her nude glossed lips, and says, “ Morning, Mr. Wayne. ”

“Better.”

“That’s as best as it’s gonna get.”

This time laughter leaves me instead.

Only Gotham knows how she always manages to make me smile.

It’s a skill.

And one not many people in my life have.

I carefully return the booklet to my desk at the same time I ask, “How was work?”

“Long.” Her heavy sigh occurs prior to the lifting of the strappy shoes in her possession. “Looking forward to the day I don’t have to wear these so much.”

“That day could be tomorrow. Just say the word.”

Bryn’s expression along with her arm fall. “We’ve already been over this, and if we have to go over it again, you’ll be left alone to jerk it to thoughts of me rather than me jerk it for you in the shower.”

Additional chuckles are accompanied by me offering my hands up in surrender.

The sound encourages her to melt adoringly in place. “And what about you? How’s work?” She rests her head gently on the frame. “Progress on the event designs?”

“No.”

“Progress on the anniversary merchandise?”

“No.”

“Progress on the state of our union to the general public?”

“No.”

“Then what the fuck have you been doing in here since I left?” Bryn playfully pokes. “And you better not fucking say re-reading Batman comics where he battles Shark King because you missed me.”

“ King Shark. ”

“Excuse you. Do I correct you every time you mix up Kirk and Picard.”

“ Yes. ”

Her playful sneering encourages me to smugly smirk.

I appreciate that she’s interested in getting to know all sides of me.

The feeling is mutual.

Especially since it feels like we have very little in common.

Bryn’s like her favorite creature and show.

Driven by danger and adventure.

Prepared to eat in order not to be eaten or risk her life to save those she’s come to love.

She’s playful.

Whimsical.

Brutally honest although it’s often mistaken for crassness.

Her commitment to herself, to being the most authentic her she can be is awe-inspiring.

And terrifying.

Because like the cape crusader I’ve admired my entire existence, I’ve mastered the art of being two people, at two different times, but never both at once.

Which is what she really wants.

I can feel that in my bones.

“Seriously,” sweetness and curiosity return to her tone, “what have you been working on?”

“Technically, all of those things.” My black hoodie covered shoulders bounce in defeat. “I just haven’t had any progress. ”

“Wanna show me anything? I probably can’t give you top of the ocean advice – after all I don’t have product designer as my career title like the hot little piece Puppet Boy went out with tonight – but I have drunk a lot of booze and feel that could count for something.”

Small chortles leave me, and I motion her over with a small wave of two fingers.

Bryn enters the room, shuts the door behind her, and drops her shoes next to it as if attempting to add additional security measures to keeping us safe.

Despite what’s going on with her mother – who Hamilton says has completely recovered – I trust those that wander these halls. They’re given thorough background checks and multiple interviews with the heads of their respective departments long before access to my property. They’re fingerprinted and documented. Given badges that are checked as they come and go. Cameras plaguing the property leave little to nowhere to hide the malicious activity Hamilton believes to have occurred, and once we’re allowed to talk again in person , I will further reiterate the point for him to take poison as a possibility off the table.

I need less reasons for the woman bearing the plunging neckline beside me to want to leave.

Not more.

“These are the… current options, I’ve been sent.” Dragging them closer is done between explanations. “I want something that screams luxury and opulence and decades of a lavish legacy. Something that shouts timeless. That honors the hours my family put into distilling. Days into bottling. Years into building this business brick by brick around the hell of prohibition, stock market drops, and economical crisis.” I mindlessly give the side of my face a frustrated rub. “I want something that can sit on the shelf that I know will not only make those that came before me proud but will be something my own heir looks on with the same admiration and reverence.”

“Talk about a lot of fucking pressure,” she less than quietly murmurs.

“Running a billion-dollar business often is.”

“And yet the whiskey portion is the one that receives the most amount of critiquing.”

“The media speculates about all of my endeavors fairly equally.”

“I meant from you. ” Bryn’s gaze drops down to meet mine. “This is how you really preserve your parent’s memory, isn’t it?”

A single nod is given.

“And because you have no other family to share or swap stories with, you literally pour pieces of yours into the anniversary products each year.”

There’s no reluctance to nod a second time.

“Then yeah,” her stare swings to the scattered paperwork, “none of this is gonna cut it. Definitely not this congrats on getting your liquor license souvenir bullshit.”

“ Exactly! ”

“Tell them what you just told me,” my girlfriend suggests at the same time she drags the decanter design forward, “and reconsider something like this, but with a small family only detail like gold flakes as a nod to your mom’s Parisian obsession? And perhaps put them in decorative cigar style box as a wink to your dad?” Our eyes lock again. “Puppet Boy mentioned last night that he had quite the collection when he was alive.”

“He did.” An almost wistful smile touches my lips. “I gave it to J.T. knowing he’d appreciate it more than I ever would.”

“You mean you gave it to your ‘brother’ so that he had his own piece of your father to remember him by.”

Pressing my lips tightly together occurs in a wordless admission.

“I know,” she sassily sings. “I’ve got brains and beauty just like Uhura.”

This time there’s no resisting the instinct to smirk. “That you do.”

“So, is it just the rich billionaire expectation that you have to have kids someday, or…” The unevenness of her tone leads to me placing my palm supportively on the back of her toned thigh. “Do um…you actually want them?”

“Had you asked me that two weeks ago I would’ve said no.”

Yet again our attention gravitates to one another. “And now?”

“Much like you look forward to not wearing heels, I look forward to you not taking your shot.”

Bryn’s teeth sink into her bottom lip immediately inspiring my cock to stir.

What can I say except that there’s a lot of missed sex I’m ready to make up for.

“What about you?” I slowly drag the tips of my fingers up her thigh, slipping underneath the loose skirt of her dress. “Do you want kids?”

“I want a real career .” Her cheeky confession is followed by a much quieter admission. “But after that? I wouldn’t mind a pup or two.”

“Pup because that’s what they call baby sharks?”

My girlfriend lets the corner of her lips curl upward. “What do you know, Spock? You have brains and booty too.”

“ Beauty. ”

“Yeah, your ass is beautiful,” Bryn flirts on a bounce of her eyebrows.

“ Mmm ,” leaves me at the same time I roughly cup her round cheek, “ so’s yours, little prey. ”

There’s no denying or ignoring the flicker of thrill the nickname never fails to spark in her gaze, just like there’s no denying or disregarding how fucking hard it makes me to see it.

“ Sit ,” I wolfishly instruct while creating space for her to follow the instruction. “ Legs. Open. ”

The lack of reluctance to do what she’s told receives low rumbles of approval that increase in volume the instant she flips the skirt of dress to guarantee her bare ass is what’s grinding against my dick.

Small wiggles of her hips occur in tandem with her peering devilishly over her shoulder. “ Is this how you want me, Wes? ”

Low, ravenous grumbles seep free as I unhurriedly slide my palm up to the territory between her shoulder blades. One harsh push bends her frame forward, forcing her to brace herself by her fingertips, ass left exposing to me the thin red string she chose to wear to work tonight. “ This is. ”

Labored breaths steadily begin filling the room from each of us, yet it’s hers that are coming out in a much more rapid succession. Watching her lower half roll around in languorous circles while her curtain of dark locks seductively sways has me more desperate to be deep inside her now than I was when she left hours ago.

And due to the drenched nature of the tiny piece of fabric pretending to be a gatekeep to her pussy, I have no doubt that she wants the exact same thing.

“ You wet for me, little prey? ” is attached to my palm sliding back down to hold up the edge of her dress, to put her precious tattoo on full display. “ You wanna show me how beautiful your ass looks bouncing on my cock? ” Bryn’s breath hitches when my shaft kicks in anticipation. “ How fucking perfect you sound coming on it? ”

Her head instantly bobs.

“ Beg ,” I brutishly grunt, free hand working my dick out of my sweats, silently grateful I skipped putting on boxer briefs after my post workout shower. “ Beg me to take what’s mine. ”

“ Please… ” the woman I know I’ve already fallen for needily whispers. “ Please fucking take me. ”

Given that words alone are enough to get my nuts tightening, how I survive the first sharp thrust through her sopping wet heat should be considered a Riddler worthy mystery. Spine breaking shudders surge throughout my entire system and knock my head into the back of my chair. “ Fuckkkkk, baby. ” Both sets of fingers fiercely clamp down on the area underneath them. “ This is all mine. ”

“ All yours, ” she swiftly echoes prior to curling her fingers around my ankles like they’re handlebars. “ All… ” Her new established hold allows Bryn to slyly lift herself up to the very tip of my dick and savagely slam herself back down to the base. “ Yours. ”

Fiendish filled groans rattle my chest as I heave upward to meet her ruthless stroke for stroke.

Pound for pound.

It’s impossible to stop my stare from growing hooded.

Grip from bruising.

Teeth from gnashing.

Gasps originally stolen on every bounce eventually become airy pants presented on each pump. The sound of her inability to catch a steady breath combines with the sight of her pussy coating my cock in thick cream to overrule every ounce of my sanity.

Both hands relocate to her sides where they harshly clamp down for better leverage. Hammering mercilessly harder into her, has her nails clawing through my pants, frantically searching for the stability that’s dissipating more and more by the second.

Gone is her teasing, her determination to torment and in its place is delicious deference.

Undeniable docility.

Having Bryn’s trembling body flop around so effortlessly on every buck, not only encourages me to fuck her faster and harder, it convinces me to curl completely around her, constrict her ability to go anywhere, feel anything that isn’t every part of me conquering and monopolizing every part of her.

The pressure and the weight and the inability to pull away from the intensity damn near instantly sends her over the edge on a room shaking scream. “ Wes! ” Pleased grunts hit her ears to the same unyielding pace that her pussy is pulsating. “ Wes! ” Wetness cascades down my cock over and over and over again, soaking any skin it can reach. “ Wes! ”

“ Keep fucking screaming, little prey, ” I demand while cum floods the quivering space, overflow trickling out alongside hers to drench my tremoring thighs. “ I want everyone in the estate to know you belong to me. ”