Chapter 11

Brynley

You know I’m starting to fully understand the reason why juvenile sharks probably don’t mind being abandoned by their mother.

It beats the fuck out of constantly being smothered.

“You sure you don’t need anything?” Mom asks again for the fourth time since entering Wes’s comic book room in the estate where I thought I would be safe from the household’s suffocating ways. “ Anything at all? ” She lifts my chin up to meet her gaze. “How about a sandwich? You hungry? You’re probably hungry. You need to eat again? Have you been consuming enough calories? Hydrating? Do you need me to get you some more water?”

“Mom, I’m not an invalid. Just pregnant.”

Her hand falls back to her side on a scowl.

“And I’m fine. ” Adjusting the comic book in my lap occurs between statements. “The only thing I need right now is a little bit of space.”

Which is the same fucking thing I’ve needed for the past ten days and still not been lucky to receive.

Sex either.

It just became a “doctor approved” activity after my gyno visit yesterday.

Unlike swimming.

And heavy lifting.

And drinking coffee.

I can’t even have fucking coffee in the morning!

A suggestion was made about ginger lemon tea, and I may have Klingoned out.

Mom lifts both hands in a surrendering nature prior to bowing her head. “I’ll return to work then. You know how to use the intercom if you need me.”

She swiftly shuffles out of the room, but unfortunately for me, her exit becomes Wes’s entrance. “Need anything?”

“To find out what happens next in Batman: Year Two. ” The turning of the page is dramatically done. “Particularly in peace. ”

“It gets darker,” Wes absentmindedly announces at the same time he parks himself on the arm of the couch at the opposite end and continues to text. “And is not technically considered part of the canon in which Year One came from.” Rather than look up, he lets his fingers fly across the screen while he continues to ramble, “Still an excellent read.”

“I wouldn’t know,” I sassily snip. “No one will give me five minutes alone to read it.”

Finally, my fiancé meets my gaze. “ Problem? ”

“With what?” Sarcastically folding my hands in my lap is executed. “Having Hamilton hover? Or Clark? Or Mom? Or J.T.? Or you?” The angling of my head is done for additional emphasis. “Or having to be supervised when hanging out with Calen? Or Vanessa?” I let my shoulders bounce. “Or the fact I’m on admin duty, which is just mindless amounts of paperwork and reading research notes, rather than being hands on with the creatures in our care? Or having to write Steven’s diary notes for his transfer but not getting to see him and feed him? Or not knowing when I get to return to the water? Or if I’ll get to return?”

Wes’s mouth begins to lower in spite of the fact I’m not done.

“Or are you asking me do I have problem with the fact regardless of me getting the approval from my licensed physician about attending the annual Red, White, and Blue event where Evie is already planning for us to officially announce our pregnancy as ‘Red, White, and Due’ that you still want us to cancel once more leaving me trapped in this castle like Belle before the village people stormed the gates to try to prison break her out?”

Responding to me isn’t done due to him answering his phone. “ Wilcox. ”

It’s like getting pregnant is a literal crime with my sentence to be served out in the world’s nicest brig.

I mean am I excited about being pregnant?

No.

The mood swings, the tender tits, the food aversions and the prenatal meds are all not big sellers of the experience.

Not to mention the seemingly ceaseless fight to keep my position in the R therefore, my hours are becoming more limited.

My tasks more restricted.

My purpose more narrowed.

Part of me believes that if it weren’t for my husband’s company – soon to be our company – signing the biggest donation checks, I wouldn’t even have a job anymore.

And that?

That I really fucking hate.

“I understand the Morgan merger is about beer but that’s global. I want us to look into local. Craft. I want the company to be willing to invest in businesses that we believe in that are right here in our own backyard so to speak,” Wes describes to someone on the other end of his phone. “ That’s really the whole purpose of you walking the beer booths at the upcoming festival, J.T.”

“You have a hundred and eleven rooms in Wayne Manor,” I unhappily turn the page backward, “could you please take your convo elsewhere?”

“I’ll call you back.” The ending of his conversation is followed by a gentle touch to my stretched-out leg. “Hungry?”

“Why?” My stare momentarily moves to find his. “Do you wanna spoon feed me like a Gerber Baby?”

“That’s…an unsettling image.”

“This is an unsettling way to live.”

“Your future husband taking care of you is an unsettling way to live?”

“Holding your future wife hostage like Khan in Into Darkness most certainly fucking is.”

“Just like your mother wasn’t a prisoner while being taken care of neither are you.”

“Then why can’t I so much as wipe my own ass without someone from on the other side of the door waiting to offer me a towel when I’ve finished washing my hands?!”

Against his better judgment, Wes inquires, “ Hormones? ”

“ Ohmygod, everything is not my hormones!”

Though this might be.

At least a little bit.

Defeat drops onto his shoulder propelling him up onto his feet. “What do you want to me do, Brynley? Pretend like nothing fucking happened? Like you didn’t suffer from a life altering injury?! Like you’re not carrying around our child?!”

“I want you to remember that I may be carrying your child, but I am not one!”

“I-”

“I can get my own bottle of water. I can drive myself to work. And I can damn sure decide if I’m up for reading or visitors or walking around a 4 th of July festival!”

“I just don’t want anything to happen to you again! I don’t wanna lose you! I can’t lose you!”

“I get that, Wes.” An unexpected sigh shakes my short, yellow summer dress cloaked figure. “But if you don’t let me sit in my own chair on the deck versus your lap, we’re not gonna be able to pilot our ship much longer.”

The words send him sulking back onto the leather sofa closer to me.

“I appreciate how much you love me and wanna take care of me and the little superhero growing inside of me, but I kind of need to breathe some non-Wes infused air once in a while.”

It appears to pain him to hear the declaration; however, he nods in submission. “ Understood. ”

“Good.” Leaning slightly forward precedes me smirking. “Because I would like that right after you do something that takes my breath away.”

His eyes drop to where my bottom lip endures a bite.

“All the swelling in my ankle is completely gone.”

“It is.”

“Yet I don’t think I should push it.” I abandon the comic book on the nearby table and crawl into his sweatpants covered lap. “Meaning…” The winding of my arms around his neck allows for him to rest his hands on my hips. “ I’m just gonna sit here and enjoy the ride, Weston. ”

A low, bestial growl I haven’t heard in what feels like eons vibrates his chest as much as mine. “ Is that what you want, baby? ” One set of fingers slips underneath the edge of my dress and inches over to my thong covered ass. “ To be taken? ” He delivers a gentle nudge to the space between my thighs. “ To be broken? ” The light prodding grows harder. “ To be my prey? ”

“ Always, ” airily leaves me at the same time I needily rock forward.

“ The door is open, ” Wes lasciviously reminds. “ Give me something to help keep you quiet. ”

Before I inquire what, he snaps the string to my panties and presents a devilish grin.

And it’s that exact grin that gets me onto my feet.

Wiggling the delicate fabric off while he slides himself out of his sweats.

I display it like a dangling offering from the tip of my index finger.

His effortless snatching of it is followed by him harshly yanking me forward and stuffing the material in the open space created by my gasp.

“ I wanna be the only one to hear you fucking scream, little prey. ” He rubs the edge of the material that didn’t fit inside across my bottom lip. “ And you will fucking scream. ”

There’s no time for agreement.

Or objection.

Or anything that isn’t me spread wide in his lap with my knees borrowing deep into the couch cushions on each side of him.

Hisses sparked by the roughness of his initial invasion almost instantaneously become louder, headier whimpers.

Having the wet, underworked muscles mercilessly stretched to the point where both ends of me are screaming is enough on its own to warrant my shuddering yet it’s the short, barbaric, pounding that increases the speed at which I do it.

The consistency.

Intensity.

Wes’s palms possessively grip my ass to keep me pinned in place, providing him with the leverage needed not only for every pump to be deeply felt, but to guarantee that each one results in a teasing brush of my clit.

“ This is what you really needed, isn’t it? ” He purrs against the side of my tit that’s popping out of my dress. “ To be fucked? ” His teeth fiercely sink into the exposed skin causing me to arch into him. “ To take that hard dick? ”

My body helplessly bucks into the slamming.

Trembles fiercely when he widens his thighs for a deeper angle.

Another round of biting begins prompting my hands to curl around the back of the leather couch as he growls, “ Is that a yes, little prey ?”

Moaning my answer is attached to my head falling back in ecstasy.

The dangling of my locks becomes too tempting for my future husband not to touch.

Tangle.

Tug.

Jerking me into his increasingly frantic thrusting has my bare ass jiggling uncontrollably.

Bumping into his balls.

Having his balls slap back against me.

Wetness is steadily smeared and slathered along my inner thighs while the friction from my clit constantly being rubbed causes my pussy to ceaselessly constrict around his cock.

Clamp down.

Cry for it to come and come and keep coming until cum is what we’re both covered in.

Wes pulls my ass apart further prompting shivers to run along my spine from the unexpected added sensation, a set of actions that leads to him groaning, “ Fuckkkk, baby. You really want that cum, don’t you ?”

His question receives a throaty scream that’s instantly absorbed by the fabric.

“ You want me to remind you that I’m the fucking apex. ”

The proclamation is punctuated with hard pulls.

Harder heaves.

“ That it’s me you fucking belong to. ”

Whimpers and whines fight to drip down my elongated neck alongside the tiny bits of drool.

“ That this is my pussy. ”

It’s impossible to keep my eyes open.

To stop my nails from trying to tear into the couch.

“ That this will always be fucking mine. ”

Sopping wet throbs begin to occur more consistently around his dick, warning him how close I am to going over the edge.

How desperate I am to feel him join me.

“ That you will always be fucking mine. ” His sharp, piston-like motions, pound the promise into me one undeniable word at a time. “ Only. Mine. ”

On a high-pitched, muted scream, my arms carelessly curl around his neck, smashing him into my chest, smothering his savage roars between my tits as I do my best to withstand the unstoppable withering that’s invading my system . Wes barely manages to execute two more thrusts before my pussy mercilessly milks from him exactly what he’s ripping out of me. Our carnal cries incessantly fuse together to the same relentless rhythm of our orgasms until we’ve merged into one, sweaty, breathless, mixture of twitches and murmurs.

I really am only Weston Wilcox’s.

And no matter what lies ahead…I always will be.