Chapter 22

Brynley

I just wanna leave an important note in today’s Captain’s log.

Getting mouth banged on the way to a mandatory gala for work absolutely defeats doing a word search in the pre-event time passing battle.

Especially when your future husband eats pussy like it’s his last meal on earth before he takes flight in the morning.

Not that Wes flies.

Or is willing to fly.

Or is even willing to discuss the idea of flying.

Fuck, when that shit came up in therapy – all because Stella thought it was important that we approach our honeymoon with the same expectations – I thought he was going to fire the doc on the spot.

Turns out that it’s a really not to be touched subject.

We’re talking locked up in his comic book vault’s vault’s vault.

And unlike her – who gets paid to try to pick those types of brain locks – I simply surrendered.

Suggested he talks to Sawyer about it and pushed onward.

I don’t wanna fight more than we already have to.

Unless it’s the sexy type that ends with one or both of us naked eating chocolate covered strawberries in a warm, Epsom salt bath – since bubbles aren’t allowed according to Hamilton.

Between him and the man I – typically – adore my “do not do while pregnant” list is growing nine times faster than my waist size.

Wes releases a throaty groan and grips the outside of my thighs noticeably harder.

The harsh vibrations add to the voracious lashings in such an irresistibly delicious nature that I’m left with no choice but to latch on tighter to the freshly tussled locks my recently manicured nails refuse to relinquish their hold over and feverishly grind into them, random strands of hair instantly coming loose from the nonstop pleasure-filled head whipping.

“ More, ” slips free between increasingly breathless pants. “ More, Weston. ”

Ravenous rolls are ceaselessly delivered around and around and around my clit, only momentarily breaking to indulge in short sucks that have my toes curling in my black lace up heels. The points on my stilettos savagely stab at his shoulders blade, barbarously carving my pleas to come into his black dress shirt; however, each scrape he receives sparks a brutish grunt.

And every grunt gets buried deeper between my thighs.

And the deeper they get buried the more determined he becomes to unearth them.

To free the sounds by frantically diving his tongue in, desperate to rescue them from the darkest depths where they’re likely to fall off climax’s cliff.

His feral determination and devotion and dynamism pushes him to transition away from torturous teasing to sheer, unmatched devouring.

Withstanding the unrelenting undulation swiftly spikes to impossible levels as my bare ass practically levitates off the limo seat, powerlessly being summoned upward into the carnal cloud of cries I can’t stop creating.

The higher I get, the more furiously his tongue works.

And works.

And plunges, perpetually scribbling his signature on any, tiny orgasmic shiver that spreads throughout my system.

“ Wesssss! ” surges itself out of my mouth at the same time I throw my head back in pure ecstasy. “ Wesssss! ” Additional hollering is offered up in hopes of mercy. “ Wessss! ” Blissful pulsations continue without any indication of ending. “ Wessss! ” His incessant swiping and sucking and lapping persists in spite of my screeching. “ Icanttakeany- ”

“Wes,” Lurch’s voice floods through the speakers in an even tone, “we are two minutes out.”

At that, my fiancé unlatches his mouth from my lower lips, leans back onto his hunches to meet my gaze, and wolfishly grumbles, “ I guess I’ll have to finish my dessert later, little prey. ”

Finish?!

What the fuck does he mean finish?!

I’m pretty sure there’s nothing left for him to have!

I’m practically kin to Clayface who was actually in the comic I was reading while Greta Blank, the hair and makeup stylist I often use for more high-class events, did a marvelous job that my soon to be husband has successfully undone.

Wes swipes away the taste of me on his lips prior to shooting me a shit eating grin.

Oooooo, he’s so lucky this event is about my job and not his.

Otherwise?

I’d take him into one of the private bathrooms and do something for us to switch smug expressions.

Then again…we still might.

Getting my black and sequin, high slit, dress returned to its appropriate position takes about the same amount of time it does for Wes to use the selection of complimentary offerings to clean his face and freshen his breath.

Again, if this was one of the many, many events for Wilcox Enterprises rather than The Institute I’d say fuck it.

Let his breath smell like mint and a good time.

But it’s not.

I mean…he technically is one of their highest donors and was invited as such; however, he’s here for me.

To be my arm candy.

To assist me in kissing ass and belugas and whatever else it is my bitch of a boss demands I do to show allegiance to our organization.

You know I love what I do…but I don’t love doing it under her.

She’s like having to answer to The Borg Queen.

And I won’t assimilate!

I don’t care what she does to me.

I refuse to join her hivemind bullshit.

Seriously.

What kind of deep-sea monster wants to get rid of meaningful celebrations for our precious ocean babies?!

I’m not saying we need to throw a party every time a clown fish pops out of an egg, but what’s wrong with honoring their rescue dates or giving them goodbye parties like we did for Steven?

Who I deeply miss.

I’ve gotten to see him once in person since his transfer; however, their lead shark biologist constantly sends me photos and swears he’s happy.

Assisting in the care of our new baby hammerhead – that I affectionally named Bruce – has been helping me cope.

He’s definitely not the same.

Has an entirely different personality.

But I can already tell he loves me the most in the whole building regardless of what Calen claims.

Inside the underwater themed event, Lurch lingers near the front doors – close to, yet not in interfering range of the already established security – while Wes and I politely conversationally swim around the patrons over to the bar to order ocean themed beverages.

“Mocktails,” my fiancé grunts in an almost confused fashion. “I can honestly say this will be a first for me.”

“I thought the princess was supposed to be the virgin in these fairy tales,” I teasingly wink.

The sight of his cheeks growing a crimson shade instantly gets me giggling, a sound that prompts a wide mouth grin despite his obvious embarrassment.

Thank fuck, Evie isn’t around tonight.

I would have to keep these top of the food chain quips to myself.

“I’m curious what the current profit margins are for mocktails as well as non-alcoholic beer.” Wes’s hand adoringly lands on the small of my back. “And now I’m even more curious as to what the trajectory for such might be in the coming decade.” Our eyes lock about the time the bartender begins shaking around the container. “Perhaps investing in non-alcoholic spirits is the new business endeavor I didn’t know I needed.”

It's impossible to keep a smile off my face. “Never wonder what you bring to the Wilcox legacy, Weston.”

“ Never doubt what you bring to me, Brynley. ”

A faint swoon slips free prior to our mouths gravitating towards one another.

Unfortunately, what would’ve been a sentimental kiss is interrupted by a surprising voice, “How are you late to your own event?”

Angling ourselves to face Puppet Boy occurs at the same time I snip, “I’m not late. The gala started at eight. It’s only eight fifteen, which means I arrived within the allotted range of reasonable or dare I say fashionable in this gown.”

“It’s a great dress,” he flatly compliments in hopes of avoiding his other best friend’s wrathful grumbles, “however, you’re still late.”

“Eight fifteen is not late!”

“It’s eight forty-two.”

“Since when?!”

“Since eight forty-one left.”

His snarky response sparks Wes to chortle under his breath, something he does his best to hide by gliding me over my blue ocean mocktail.

“Maybe the question shouldn’t be why am I possibly tardy-”

“ Definitely tardy. ”

“-but why are you punctual for an event you weren’t even invited to?”

“Except I was invited to it,” Puppet Boy’s clarification precedes a hand motion for the bartender to make him one of the drinks too. “Wilcox Enterprises is a major donor for The Bower and Powell Institute therefore physical representation of the company is highly encouraged by the PR department.” Impishness invades his expression. “I feel like as an employee of one and on her way to being a shareholder of the other you should really know that.”

“And I feel you only get this cheeky when your balls have been emptied in the last twenty-four hours.”

Wes damn near chokes from abruptly swallowing his beverage.

“ Name? ” I interrogate on a swift retrieval of my glass.

“Fionna.”

“Occupation?”

“Didn’t ask.”

“Didn’t care?”

“Nope.” His shrug is innocent and indifferent. “We both just wanted to get laid with no strings attached.”

“Been there.” My glass is tipped in his direction. “ Approve that. ”

Puppet Boy grabs his freshly made drink during his explanation, “Life’s…kind of… insane at the moment. There’s the merger, the app, the off-quarter sales figures…not to mention what we’ve got going on personally with the recovery, the family uniting episode next week, and the wedding.” The beverage is given an adjustment in his grasp. “I don’t have time or the capacity to date right now.”

“Just to get your dick touched.” An enthusiastic nod is attached to my exclaiming. “I get it.”

Wes’s frame presses itself against mine again. “You get it because you’ve lived it, I’m assuming.”

“ One hundred percent. ”

Both men lightly chuckle, although Puppet Boy’s is short-lived courtesy of his sudden gagging. “What’s wrong with this drink?!”

“It’s non-alcoholic,” the bartender professionally informs from the other side of counter.

“ Why ?!”

“ Pregnant. ” I gesture inward to my well-hidden stomach and then outward to my fiancé. “ Recovering. ”

“ Supportive ,” adds the male whose signature blue shade is being worn only in the form of a pocket square this evening as he lifts the glass in a cheers fashion. “Perhaps we should look into the non-alcoholic beverage industry next year. I wonder if it’s a lucrative avenue or if maybe one that could be more lucrative in the coming years.”

“ See ,” I mockingly tease, “Batman and Robin really do share one mind.”

“ Nightwing ,” Puppet Boy playfully bites. “I am Nightwing in the analogy.”

“Who was originally Robin,” Wes points out on an amused beam.

“Which makes me Captain Rightcard.”

“Speaking of the best franchise to ever exist,” he smoothly segues while motioning us to make room for others to order drinks, “they’re auctioning off a pair of five-day, all-inclusive passes to Talk Trekky to Me, the annual Star Trek convention held on South Haven Island every summer.”

My blue drink being housed in a martini glass is carelessly splashed around. “ What?! ”

“Yeah, I’m already bidding on it – because I have to bid on something for the company’s sake-”

“ Do you? ” Wes effortlessly pokes.

“-but I need you to swear, Uhura, that when I win them, you’ll go with me.”

“Absolutely!”

“You mean if ,” the man with his arm nestled around my lower back poorly tries to correct.

“No, I mean when .” Puppet Boy shoots him a wink. “Those passes are mine.”

“ Ours .”

He nods in agreement and tips his head at me. “ Ours. ”

“And does my opinion regarding you whisking what will be my wife away for a five-day romantic nerdy vacation hold any sort of weight?”

“Not really,” I respond on J.T.’s behalf and swim ahead to the more important question. “Now, who do we need to be watching as far as outbidding goes?” My gaze cuts to the direction where the silent auction items are on display. “And please be aware, I am not above pretending said individual proposes a threat to me in my poor pregnant feeble state so that Lurch has to remove them from the area.”

“This is the real reason why Batman and Catwoman are a feared couple rather than beloved,” Wes light heartedly interjects.

“It’s Wheeler “Wheels” Gentry…who is also performing tonight apparently.”

“The boyband dude from One Voice?!”

“You liked boybands?!” Puppet Boy immediately jeers back.

“I was a teenage girl once upon a time.” Stealing a small sip is quick. “Of course, I liked boybands and then boys in bands.”

“Wow,” airily croaks my partner in Star Trek crime.

“Those who hung posters of TLC and Gwen Stefani an d ArKturus – known as the off brand Enya – really shouldn’t judge those may have enjoyed watching groups of young guys sing together when they were younger.” The love of my life presents him with an arrogant grin. “ Just saying. ”

“ Batman is supposed to have Nightwing’s back,” Puppet boy aggressively scolds with a pointed finger.

“Yeah, but Batman also likes getting his Batarang touched, so he has to stand with pussy.”

“ Cat ,” grunts Wes while guiding his drink up this mouth, “and I would really appreciate if both of you stopped referring to my cock that way.”

“ Nah ,” the two of us chime in tandem before open mouth laughing.

More grumbles of unhappiness leave him, yet he secretly smiles.

Not so secretly relishes in the fact two of the most important people in his life love each other as well as him.

“Why don’t you go bid on our dream bro bonding trip while we ,” my free hand gestures between me and the man at my side, “go avoid my boss who is coming this direction by hiding in the jewelry section?”

Splitting in opposite directions is wordlessly done as is the beginning of what I can easily brand to be needless gem browsing.

I don’t need anymore.

I have my airplane necklace, an array of Evie approved accessories, and my engagement ring.

I see no point in adding to the collection.

“I love that these are all made in labs rather than pilfered from the ocean.” Our browsing of the pearl section is quick; however, the aquamarine one is much slower. “I also love that a portion of every purchase from this area tonight will go towards the ocean clean up department of our organization.” Wes leads us to a complete stop. “Honestly? They kind of get shafted when it comes to budget.”

His attention momentarily falls to me.

“I know we only have ‘so much money’ but they’re always first to lose their funding. I swear they might as well just be called volunteers at this point.”

“Let’s change that, shall we?” Before I can ask questions, he taps his fingers near a pair of aquamarine cufflinks. “For J.T.?” Our eyes meet again. “They should pair well with…ninety percent of his closet contents, correct?”

There’s no point in holding in my snickers.

“Why don’t we also get something for Lauren?” The blonde woman in charge of this section across from us gasps in what I imagine to be excitement. “It can be gift to the mother of the bride.”

“She gets gifts?!” my squawking causes him to chortle. “I have to buy her gifts?! I thought the whole point of getting married was so other people bought us gifts?!”

“That is not the only point to being married; however, it is an important one,” an older, attractive, accented male unexpectedly chuckles from beside me. “And although I am not married, I am inclined to agree with you, Miss Winters.” He flashes me an irresistible grin. “Other people most certainly should be bestowing upon you lavish gifts.”

Amusement dances around my gaze as I ask, “Have we met?”

“Not in an official capacity, I’m afraid.” The male extends an open palm in my direction. “Trenton Kenningston.”

“As in the Kenningston?!” My voice squeaks while we shake. “As in the K in The K however, if that is where this conversation ends then so be it.”

“ You can’t be serious, ” is hissed out in a hushed tone.

Can he?

Can he actually have a shark tank built on our property?!

Holy fuck, can he actually buy me a shark?!

Wait.

Should he?

Would that be a good idea?

I mean it would be for me but not the poor creature.

“Alright.” Trenton’s smile threatens to blind us in the dimly lit event. “Your fiancée can have full access anytime day or night to visit Steven.”

“The cost?”

“A favor.”

“I’m listening.”

“My nephew, Kellan, has his own charity foundation that helps foster homeless children. Unfortunately, due to his decision to marry someone of a different ethnicity, his funding is enduring a bit of a financial snag. He will – most likely sooner rather than later – need an additional backer who possesses a significant amount of clout to his name.”

“Wilcox does possess such clout.” A warm-hearted smile slides into the conversation. “Regardless of him needing my clout or not, it would be an honor to support a worthy cause. I’m always in search of places where I can actually see the funding making a difference to the organization versus those who run it.”

The member of the royal family tips his glass towards him. “ Cheers to that. ”

New waves of awe wash over me to the point I’m left speechless.

Literally.

Speechless.

Of all the things he could’ve said or done to show that he’s not only sorry but understands me , understands what really lights up my life, this isn’t one that would’ve ever crossed my mind.

“ Ohgod, not that ,” Trenton abruptly criticizes the piece of jewelry the woman is presenting. “My deceased mother wouldn’t dare wear that on her wrist even in her grave.”

His blunt refusal receives warm laughs from us. Afterward, we resume shopping alongside casually chit chatting, the two of them mostly ironing out paperwork and timing details while I pick out something appropriate for my mom.

And Vanessa.

And Calen.

Calen who, to my surprise, I haven’t seen yet.

I wonder if his ass is shoveling back sushi in private knowing I can’t have any.

Post purchasing presents – that they’ll hold until we return ready to leave the event – we ditch our empty mocktail glasses and relocate to the “Trench of Treats”, the hallway like area where various food vendors are offering bite size samples of their seafood specialties.

Too many of which I can’t fucking have!

Wes pointing to seaweed based dishes has me repeatedly gagging – an action he does his best to apologize to each of the vendors about during our passing – however the second I sprint away to fuss at Calen, he abandons his efforts of kindness to maintain his position at my side.

“ How. Dare. You. ” The sharp finger wag he receives is executed in tandem with an unforgiving glare. “ You’re over here shoveling back Tuna Tataki with jalapenos like a fucking whale shark while the most I can have is seaweed wrapped avocado?! ”

My best friend guilty swallows the contents of his mouth. “I-”

“ Betrayal! ”

“I-”

“ Absolute. Betrayal. ”

“I wasn’t the one who knocked you up,” he playfully jeers back between wiping his fingers clean with his napkin. “You wanna be pissy at someone about you not being able to eat fish the way you want?” Calen kicks his chin at Wes. “ Be mad at him. ”

“Oh, she is,” my fiancé jovially jabs. “ Livid almost every meal we have.”

“No one should have to eat this many vegetables!”

“Stop yelling,” chuckles the man I haven’t seen in a couple days courtesy of him prepping for his return to school. “We’re at a nice event for work , not in the back room at work. ”

A second glare is quickly shot in his direction and more laughter can’t be helped.

And here’s another reason why I could never leave our institute for K however, before it can really get good – and by good, I mean result in that bathroom bang I’m now thinking about again – we’re joined by someone who is more interested in my moves than his in the sex aspect.

“Hate to be a tendy here,” Jenni awkwardly interjects, “but I think we’ve got a problem.”

“Why are you here?” I less than warmly ask. “Who sent you? Was it Evie? Did she tell you that we couldn’t be trusted unsupervised?”

“ Ohnonono, ” brushes off the energetic, young woman, “she doesn’t even know I’m here.”

“Then why are you here, Miss Cohen?” Wes unhappily grumbles. “Disrupting my fiancée’s mandatory appearance?"

“Technically, I’m here to support The Institute. My brother was invited by one his teammates – although I, personally, think they’re secretly dating – who is a huge fan of P&B, having grown up in the area and taken like so many school fields trips to it, and he himself donates and them being here is great PR for the club – and they need it, the Dragons suck so bad in every department – and since he’s in my town , he thought it’d be a good idea for me to tag along with them, so here I am popping champers and shrimp cocktail pretending I’m not excited to hear Wheels sing even though I so totally am.”

An all-knowing wink is shot at Wes.

“And now the reason you’re here interrupting us instead of fangirling in secret elsewhere?”

“ Right! ” Her long fingers deliver a tiny tap to the middle of her forehead. “Okay, so cas’ look to the left and find the tiny blond in the short silk dress. She’s gonna be past the woman with one sleeve puffy shit, but if you’ve spotted the woman with the fish head sticking out of her drink you’ve gone too far-”

“ Whythefuckdoesshehaveafishinherdrink?! ”

“Found,” Wes announces, prompting me to abandon boarding the train of curiosity for whatever one Jenni is requesting.

“The blonde that’s talking to my boss?” I nonchalantly investigate. “What about her?”

“That’s Monica’s assistant.” We cut our glares to Jenni in tandem. “As in the Monica Simmons . ” An uncomfortable cringe is quickly flashed. “As in the woman who seems to have an inside source on all things Bryn, Wes, and Wilcox drama related… I recognize her from the day they came to the office to confront you about your lineage. Monica instructed her to wait at the coffee shop across the street rather than go with her to the meeting.”

“ Holyshit ,” doesn’t finish leaving my lips before I’m jetting off in the direction with them on my heels.

“ Uh…Bryn? ” Jenni poorly attempts to stop me. “ Um…don’t you think- ”

“This Gamma Quadrant, female changeling cunt, is the one leaking information about us to the media?!”

Jenni fumbles out another effort to intervene, “ Maybe we should- ”

“You Bajoran Wormhole using bitch!” One hard push on the back of Raquel’s shoulder stumbles her around. “You’ve been selling my personal shit to the fucking press!”

Her expression pales at the same time her mouth drops to lie. “ It’s not what you- ”

“Of course it’s what I fucking think!” I loudly huff prompting the female she was talking with try to bail. “ Ohnoyoufuckingdon’t .” A harsh finger is thrown at her. “Move another goddamn inch, and I will rip out every strand of your extensions like a fucking bull shark frenzied by chum.”

The unidentified blonde squeaks, yet completely freezes.

“ You’re the leak?” Wes questions in a calmly eerie tone. “ You’re the source that’s spoon-feeding information not meant for the general public to the public?”

Raquel immediately croaks, “ I’m- ”

“It would be wise of you not to waste my time with lies, Ms. Lane, as the longer you lie, the worse this situation will play out for you,” he leans menacingly forward, “ indefinitely. ”

While moaning over his power flex is my first instinct, it’s momentarily suppressed by the new level of irateness coursing through my veins.

“ You have one chance, ” my future husband practically growls, entire body straining to stay in place. “ Use it. ”

Her red stained lip gets pinned harshly between her teeth.

“ Now. ”

“Monica said it wasn’t a breach of contract,” Raquel rushes to explain. “That the NDA I signed didn’t cover second handed conversations I had or conclusions I came to based on information I gathered.”

“Like finding my pregnancy test in the fucking trash?!”

A small sigh of surrender precedes her whispered confession. “Yes.”

“ Sonofawhore! ” The frustrated lunge I make in her direction is barely stopped by the man beside me. “ How could you fucking do this to me?! ” Wes tightens his hold around my waist to keep beside him. “ How could you betray me?! How could you break the trust of your employee?! ” All of a sudden, something else hits me like a brick of whale sharks. “ Is that why you’ve put me on desk duty in the office closest to yours?! ” Additional outrage has my voice rising once more. “ So that you can literally hear my conversations through the fucking wall?! ”

“Mr. Wilcox,” Lurch’s voice forcefully intrudes. “Is there a problem here?”

“There is,” he replies, voice sinking to an alarming, low tone. “Please alert Park that we have two level one situations we need handled.”

“ Yes, Sir ,” the large male responds prior to touching the device in his ear.

“And unless you would like that situation to end with you raising your child via video chat from a foreign country, I suggest you explain to me why you breeched your contract.”

“Monica said-”

“Monica lied!” I shriek garnering more attention.

“She didn’t lie ,” her assistant tries to inject into the conversation. “She simply manipulated the definition of the truth.”

There’s no stopping me from stomping my foot. “That’s a lie!”

“That makes you liable for buying into it. And the loopholes, Monica has led you to believe she legally circumvented, my team will undoubtedly prove were actually still breeched.” Wes states, reclaiming the conversation. “The cost of betrayal is most certainly high financially speaking.”

“That’s why I did it!” my boss hopelessly professes. “I’ve got a shitty ex-husband that doesn’t pay shit to help his dying fucking daughter that’s in the hospital waiting for a transplant! That shit isn’t free! Keeping her alive isn’t free! Trying to figure out how to fucking live not knowing if she’s going to make it another day or seven or thirty-seven is exhausting and costly and I…I…I…did the only thing I thought I could do to help the situation! I did what I thought was best for my daughter!”

“ You put my family in jeopardy to save yours, ” my fiancé coldly claims on a chilling step forward. “ That was a deadly mistake. ”