Chapter 4

Brynley

Friday?!

I have to leave my poor, injured baby on Friday to go meet his possible arranged marriage bride-to-be?!

What type of trip to Murder Planet in the Hirogen star system is this?!

The slamming of the front door to our penthouse is mindless and unintentional and absolutely warrants the unhappy glower Wes is giving me, yet the new sharp stabs in my still upset stomach tell me that’s not what got his Dark Knight having boxers in a twist.

“ Where the fuck have you been, Brynley?! ”

“ Weston is using my full name,” I tauntingly reply, workbag being dropped in the entryway. “This must be serious.”

J.T. poorly hides his snicker from where he’s sitting on our gray, L shaped couch with the man I’m going to marry hovering behind him.

Wes doesn’t even bother glancing in his best friend’s direction. “ Where?! ”

“Work!” Maintaining my far distance is done by lingering closer to the stairs. “Where the fuck else would I be?!”

“Why hasn’t Holmes been able to locate you for the past two hours?”

“Must’ve accidentally turned the tracker in my ass off.”

He aggressively curls his hands around the edge of the couch. “ I am not kidding. ”

“And I know you’re not being fucking serious with this impersonation Bat interrogation shit.”

“Try saying that five times fast,” J.T. playfully mumbles under his breath prompting me to smirk.

Ah.

Puppet Boy.

Our trusty shared sidekick.

Probably the one person in our social ocean that has any real clue how to navigate Hurricane Future Wilcoxes.

“ Brynley, ” is venomously spewed, “ I. Want. An. Answer. ”

“And I want a boss that I don’t have the urge to kick in the cunt.” My shoulders innocently bounce. “But like The Stones sang…’You Can’t Always Get What You Want’.”

“You know I met Jagger once?” Puppet Boy casually interjects, one navy suit covered leg moving to rest slightly on top of the other. “We were eating at the same restaurant.”

It’s impossible to resist the subject. “How hard did you fangirl?”

“Less hard than when I met Patrick Stewart but harder than when I met Simon Pegg.”

“You met Stewart?!”

“ Can we fucking focus here?! ” my fiancé bellows, bringing everyone’s attention back to him. “I need to know why a member of my security team- ”

“ Our. ”

“-wasn’t able to locate my fiancée for the past two hours.” In spite of how irritated he’s making me, I can’t help but enjoy how delicious his heaving chest looks in his dress shirt. “ Where. Were. You? ”

“ Working. ”

His mismatched eyes that I much prefer rolling back in ecstasy rather than glaring at me harshly narrow. “ At The Institute? ”

“No.” My hands slip into the back pockets of my khakis. “Calen and I met with Eoghan offsite.”

“ Why? ”

“Because unlike you – who is his own boss – I have to do what the dreaded Sea Bitch tells me to.”

“Why didn’t you inform Holmes?”

“Perhaps because checking in with my fiancé appointed babysitter simply slipped my mind.”

A deeper glare is thrown in my direction. “ Why didn’t you take your phone? ”

“Why do I feel like you’re accusing me of something you clearly don’t have the balls to accuse me of?”

“Why do I feel like you don’t believe in this merger you clearly don’t seem to give two fucks about?”

“Why are you both asking rhetorical questions?” Puppet Boy intervenes for a second time. “Like an episode of Voyager, it rarely plays out well.”

He has a point.

A really good one.

And one made in a language I approve of.

Lifting my palms is done in a surrendering nature while Wes lessens his grapple of the furniture.

“Pizza and beer?” he slyly suggests while lifting the latter. “I ordered a chorizo, salami, and olive one just for you.”

Dry heaving thoughtlessly occurs.

“ Seriously ?” Puppet Boy gawks in disbelief. “I watched you put back an entire zucchini and prosciutto one like two Sundays ago, which was much crazier than what I ordered tonight.”

“You mean less basic.”

“I mean you are a basic pain in my pizza eating ass,” J.T. chortles prior to indulging in a sip.

The corner of my lip twitches upward as I answer, “The combo’s fine, my stomach’s not.”

“What’s wrong, baby?” Wes instantly asks, voice riddled with concern. “Menstrual cramps? Constipation? Gas?”

“Very romantic,” his best friend murmurs behind another sip.

“Bad waffles.”

Amusement struggles not to appear in his expression. “You had too much sugar.”

“Maybe.” There’s no fighting my grin. “And maybe putting caramel syrup on top of regular syrup on my banana split waffles wasn’t the best idea I’ve had today.”

“I wonder if maybe we should do something with notes of banana?” J.T. ponders out loud, attention momentarily dropping to the product in his grip. “The current Morgan Brand itself is pretty…average. They produce enough profit to stay in the black, which is what made it a great buy, but…” He gently rotates the glass bottle. “It’s just like… beer , right?” His continued contemplative gazing is fascinating. “There’s no signature to it yet. It blends in. We need it to stand out because that’s our brand . That’s what our legacy represents. ” When he glances back up, he’s met by almost identical gazes of admiration. “What? Too idealistic?”

Wes gives his best man a gentle pat to the shoulder. “ Never. ”

Their passion and enthusiasm for alcohol that they share is one I longed to have in my own field and now that I have it?

I understand and respect their bond even more.

“Should I start Star Trek: Nemesis ?” J.T. gestures to the T.V. “Let Wes pour you a sample of…” his voice tails off while glancing at the different bottles on the low to the ground dark coffee table, “something light?”

“ Pass. ” Heading towards them finally begins. “On the beer that is. I could never say no to a Star Trek movie.”

“You wouldn’t be the woman I can’t wait to marry if you did,” Wes sweetly insists during his stroll around the blockade to greet me. “The woman I’m looking forward to finally introducing to the Morgans at the event on Saturday.”

There’s no stopping my eyes from widening in pure panic.

Shit…

Shit.

Shit.

Shit!

Simply two steps away, he stops.

Stills his entire frame.

Meets my stare and states, “ You will be at the event this weekend, Brynley. ”

It’s impossible not to briefly cringe as a wordless rebuttal.

“That wasn’t a question.” Wes folds his arms firmly across his chest at the same time he adds, “It was a statement.”

“Sounded like an order Captain Prickard.” My stance swiftly matches his. “And since I’m already having to follow a different set of orders this weekend, I will be unable to follow yours.”

“ Excuse me? ”

“Raquel is sending us dow n to The K however, I can’t resist the urge to push him more.

Wordlessly continue what feels like a never-ending power struggle in our relationship.

“ Oh! ” loudly precedes leaning over the edge of the couch space between them, tit purposely brushing against Wes’s arm, during the stretching motion. “ There’s my pen.”

An undeniable, dark gnarl rattles the piece of furniture I’m bent over prompting Puppet Boy to whisper, “ You’re evil, Shinzon. ”

“ Picard started it ,” is sassily mumbled prior to popping completely back up, forcing my barely covered chest to bounce. “Enjoy the movie, boys.”

Unsurprisingly, I’m not even in the steamy water, positioned over the edge beside my grabbed pool towel, searching for words for a full five minutes before I’m watching J.T. make the executive decision to leave on the other side of the glass wall.

Of course he’s bailing.

Who wants to be caught in a Battle of Wolf 359 simulation?

Pretending to find something on the page masks my tracking of his cleaning actions.

His frustrated back of the neck squeezes.

His periodic pointless pacing.

It’s more than apparent that something deeper than my inability to go this weekend is bothering him, but what it is… isn’t.

And his obnoxious behavior of recreating the mob boss vibe from Shark Tale rather than just engage in an open discussion with the person he swears he wants to have a future is infuriating.

And unfair.

And the last fucking thing I need after learning that my finned best friend who listens to me bitch about him may be on a ticking clock I didn’t see coming.

I wait until Wes is finally walking in my direction before theatrically wiggling out of my string bikini bottoms. Right as he opens the door, I casually toss them to one side, yet wait until he gets closer to make a bigger production out of removing my top too.

There’s no denying the pained pursing of his lips that’s followed by him shoving his balled fists into his black pantsuit’s pockets while I dry hands on my nearby towel. “ Punishing me, little prey? ”

“ Yes. ”

His mouth moves to speak again, and I purposely readjust my figure to ensure he almost gets a glimpse at my nipples. After deep, primal groans are barely swallowed, he gruffly asks, “If I come closer to have a conversation, are you going to make it even more difficult to have?”

“ Absolutely. ”

Against his own volition, he smirks.

Shakes his head.

Shrugs and sighs in surrender. “Thank you for being honest.”

“I’m not sure how to be anything else.”

“I know.” At that, Wes takes a cautious step forward. “And it is one of the many, many things, I love about you, Bryn.”

“But?”

“No. No buts.”

“It sounds like a but is coming.”

“Just mine swooping down for the perching on this rooftop.”

The Batman like joke receives a playful gag alongside my own head shake. “Terrible phrasing, Mr. Wayne.”

“Eh, it’s an off night, Ms. Kyle.” Post Wes rolling up his pantlegs, he plants himself next to the word search and lets his exposed appendages slide into the heat, water immediately rushing to caress the marred flesh I love even though he still doesn’t. “Do you think the Morgan merger was a mistake?”

Surprise launches my eyebrows to the night sky. “ Do you ?”

“No.”

“Then why are you asking?”

“Because I want your opinion.”

“Why?” Perplexity pierces my crystal glare. “Wilcox Enterprises is your company. You are the majority shareholder. You make the decisions. Your opinion is the only one that truly matters.” My head playfully bobs left to right. “And maybe like an anal fins worth of Puppet Boy’s.”

He lightly chuckles. “You just wanted to say the word anal.”

“Often.”

Additional snickers precede his argument. “Your opinion matters as well, Bryn.”

“That’s why I give it when choosing takeout for dinner.”

“Yes, but as the woman who is adding my last name to hers, who is signing a legally binding document that states this company will in partial become your company , what you think regarding this endeavor along with future ones matters. ” He folds his hands tightly together and leans slightly towards me. “It matters to the media. It matters to the other shareholders. However, it really matters to me. ” Unexpected conflict crosses his face. “I wanna know if you support the direction I’m going and the causes I’m supporting and the risks I’m taking. I wanna know if you hate them. Or something. Or someone. I want your… honest opinion when it comes to everything because you are my everything, Bryn.”

Not melting is impossible.

And so is not tilting my lips upward to indulge in a loving kiss.

Our mouths firmly press together allowing a brushing of our tongues that’s light.

Loving.

Reassuring.

When I finally slink back, I casually confess, “I guess it doesn’t register to me that your company is in any way going to be our company. I mean…it’s yours , ya know? It’s been in your family for generation after generation, so I just assumed it was ‘our company’ in the royal we sense, not the actual one.”

“We are signing literal paperwork that indicates that it is.” A small wince is flashed. “Which reminds me, we have to meet with Hawthorne before we can do anymore wedding arrangements with Velora.”

“Oh no…” I sarcastically call out at the same time I pick up the pen. “How…unfortunate.”

“ Bryn. ”

“The woman is a human dolphin.” Letting my gaze wander the page occurs next. “You know how I feel about that.”

Fuck them for being related to orcas.

“I would like to know how you feel about this merger.”

“It seems smart.” A word from the list instantly captures my circling attention. “The Morgan brand has established roots; therefore, you’re not basically starting out as bottom feeders in uncharted waters and lacks a level of flare that makes it bait you can craft and cut and mold to your liking. They wanted global distribution and expansion. You wanted a new world to explore. They’re winning.” I scratch out the word from the bank. “ You’re winning.”

“ We’re winning ,” he corrects during the transferring of the writing utensil from his fingers to mine.

“And the consumers are winning because they are getting new products to enjoy.” My stare shifts to his. “The only losers in this merger are the ones who decided to take their severance rather than board USS Wilcox Enterprise to boldly go where the brand has never gone before.”

“I agree.”

“Yet you asked for my opinion.” He’s tossed a quirked eyebrow. “Which means you had doubts.”

“I had…” the tugging of the booklet closer is executed to avoid eye contact, “ questions. ”

“Brought to you by the letter A, for absent fiancée ?”

“You’re not… absent. ”

“Not what you were arguing earlier.”

“ My apologies for that. ” Wes’s gorgeous brown and blue stare latches onto me. “I was out of line.”

“You were definitely swimming in sleep on the couch territory.”

The corner of his lip kicks upward. “And now?”

“Now depends on what happens after we wrap up this conversation.” Waggling my eyebrows receives a small chuckle. “And also, what brought on the accusation that I’m a heartless affair having slut who cares more about her career than her future husband.”

A long, uncomfortable lull presents itself prior to a deep sigh of exasperation. “I was ambushed at the press conference by Global Laundry. ”

“That trash site that you thought I sold our picture to?!”

The picture that’s framed – along with the one of him kissing my cheek – and hung at both the manor and our penthouse.

“That would be the one.”

“Why were they even there?!” Bewilderment bulldozes itself through my expression. “ How did they even get access?! It was supposed to be for local press only. Your way of…inviting the ‘b class villains’ to enjoy a panel in an ‘a class’ issue.”

“ I’m way more turned on by that analogy than I should be, ” mutters my partner in crime while circling a word.

“Just the way I like it.”

After an amused headshake, he says, “I have no idea how they got in, but Evie and Luther are both looking into it.” The pen is offered to me in tandem with our gazes connecting again. “She managed to get under my skin-”

“Which is why you were trying to get under mine rather than in my pants.”

“We both know I always wanna be in those pants, little prey.”

A tiny lip bite is attached to the snatching of the pen. “Yeah, well, you have a greater chance of that when you’re not attacking me for shit that I didn’t even do.”

“Again,” he sheepishly sighs, “ apologies. ”

“And I’m sorry I have to work this weekend.” Sincerity snakes through my stare. “It came up last minute. And unexpected. And honestly? I don’t want to go. I don’t want to possibly lose Steven. Yeah, I wanna get the dude laid and keep his species going or whatever, but…” Sadness slips into my tone, “I hate the idea of losing him.”

“Isn’t that the entire purpose of his time at The Institute? To heal and eventually be re-released into the wild?”

“Less logic, more emotions right now, Spock.” I teasingly wave the pen in his direction. “Read the bridge.”

Wes releases a round of laughter that’s warmer and louder than I’m anticipating. “You know I actually get the reference you’re making.”

“Which is one more reason why you are the man I can’t wait to marry.” Tossing the drawing tool on top of the word search occurs between announcements. “Or swallow.”

His jaw lowers in tandem with his gaze to where my hands are sliding up his thighs. “ I thought you weren’t feeling well. ”

“Cum does the body good.”

There’s no delay in him smirking. “ That’s milk. ”

“They’re both white.”

Rather than provide an opportunity for a rebuttal, I smoothly glide my hand over his swelling dick and squeeze.

Wes leans back onto his palm on a deep groan.

Widens his legs.

Grants me access to the button of his pants.

The zipper.

Groans again louder and hungrier when my fingers slip inside to tease his boxer brief covered shaft. “ Still punishing me, little prey? ”

“ Yes. ”

Wes lets his hooded glare latch onto where the tops of my tits are barely being kept under the hot water.

“Why don’t you do the hard work?” I salaciously suggest at the same time I slink away. “And I’ll just reap the benefits.”

One deliciously slow lick to his lips is all that precedes him nodding.

Pulling out his cock.

Giving it a lasciviously long and lustful stroke.

“ Is this what you want, baby? ” Wes purrs during a repeating of the jerking motion. “ To watch how fucking hard you make me? ” Another dragged out caress is executed. “ To see how much I wanna fuck you? ”

I violently chomp down on my bottom lip to trap in a moan.

“ You want this cum? ” His tone becomes ferine and tenebrous. “ You fucking beg for it. ”

“ Come for me, Wes, ” thoughtlessly leaves my tongue as though incapable of saying anything else.

“ Show me those tits. ”

Hesitation to rise to the tips of my toes in order to do so is nonexistent.

“ Squeeze them together. ”

Once more, following an order meets no reluctance.

“ Perfect… ” he grumbles between slightly faster tugs, precum continuously being spread his entire length. “ You’re the perfect fucking prey. ”

I certainly feel that way whenever he’s looking at me with his sexually glossed stare.

And struggling to steady his rapid breath.

And fighting to keep his moans confined behind his gritted teeth.

“ Pull a nipple, ” is grunted alongside harsher grinding. “ Pretend it’s my teeth. ”

“ Like this ?” I ask while gently executing the action.

“ Harder. ”

A slightly more forceful one is given.

“ Harder. ”

Again, I increase the strength.

“ Fucking. Harder. ” Before another attempt is made, he adds, “ Clamp down on it. ”

Yet again, as if no longer in control of my body, it does what it’s told.

“ Those are my goddamn teeth, little prey, ” insists my fiancé, “marking my territory. ”

It’s impossible not to whimper and whine.

Rock my hips forward in spite of their being nothing waiting for me under the water.

“ Marking my mate. ”

Heavier and headier moans propel me closer.

Cause him to rub faster.

And faster.

Savagely snarl to the same sadistic speed of his stroking. “ I wanna mark my fucking mate, Bryn. ”

“ Mark me ,” I echo and continue to creep forward. “ Please, fucking mark me, Wes. ”

The instant I’m within reach, he snatches a fistful of my hair, yanks my head down to his thigh, and smashes the tip of his dick against my lips. “ Open. ”

Creating space is swift.

“ Wider. ”

Expanding further happens even quicker.

“ Swallow. ”

Sweltering rushes suddenly begin running rampant across my tongue in their race for the back of my throat while his animalistic bellows are barked into the star riddled sky. The feeling of my predator’s legs tensing against my cheek combined with his toes lightly teasing the very edge of my nipple not only has me eagerly guzzling but greedily moaning for more.

More pain.

More pleasure.

More Wes.