Personal: The Extended Edition (Private #3)

Chapter 11

Brynley

How is it possible for one person to look so damn delicious?

He really is like a real-life Bruce Wayne.

And honestly?

I fucking love being his Selena Kyle.

She has an amazing dress collection.

And this little black, fitted, thin straps, glittery number with the lower dip and high front slit would totally be found in there.

Just like these stilettos.

“ You’re late, Miss Kyle ,” Wes sexily scolds on an equally irresistible smirk.

“Four seconds, Mr. Wayne.”

“ Four minutes. ”

“And tell me those four minutes weren’t worth it for me,” I salaciously spin a circle upon my arrival, “ in this dress. ”

My husband’s gaze hungrily sweeps across my ensemble, making sure to linger longingly at my full tits doing their best to be beamed out of my tied up attire and into his mouth. “ Worth. ” His glare glides itself along my exposed inner thigh. “ Every. ” It admires the bit of my ass on display courtesy of me cocking my hip. “ Second. ” The mismatched glare that’s already making me wet gravitates its way to mine. “ It always is. ”

“ Exactly ,” sassily leaves me alongside a slow trailing of my fingers down his black dress shirt covered chest.

“Love the new hair,” he warmly compliments prior to lovingly brushing a lock away from my face. “The color. The cut. The style.”

It’s impossible not to steal an excited bite out of my bottom lip. “ New hair. New me. ”

“I love the old hair and the old you.” A tender stroke is slowly delivered to my cheek. “And I can’t wait to love this hair and the new you.”

“Ugh, send me to med bay,” I dramatically gush on a small tug of his shirt, “because you’re making me weak in the knees and that is so not normal.”

“ I want you weak in the knees, Little Prey, ” the man that’s easy for me to love purrs in tandem with dragging his knuckles lightly down my throat. “ And by the end of the night, I want you on them. ”

Whimpers seep free against my own volition.

Not that I’m sure I would’ve stopped them even if I could.

I fucking love when he takes charge.

Not when he’s controlling.

Something tells me that even after all our years together, he’s still learning the difference.

“What’s that doing out of the Batcave?” my chin kicks itself towards the white ’65 Shelby he’s leaning against. “They forget to put her away after her bath this morning?”

“No, I just thought it’d be nice if we took her out for the night.”

“We who?”

“You and me.”

“You don’t drive.”

“I do drive.”

“Mmm…you’re driven. ”

“I am usually driven-”

“Which is why our stock in everything we invest in stays so steadily high.”

“ But, ” he struggles not to grin, “I can drive.”

“Can you?”

“I used to drive you to work all the time.”

“When Lurch or Franken No Fun were unavailable?”

The glare I’m twitched gets me giggling in a snarky fashion.

What can I say?

I didn’t mean an all new me.

I’m still me.

New hair or old hair or no hair.

Which I briefly considered, by the way.

“ We’re taking her out ,” he firmly announces on a pull of the handle to the passenger door. “ Making new memories. ” One hand is gestured towards the leather interior. “ Shall we? ”

Slipping past him allows me to slide into the very confined space with a pleased smirk.

Is this about to be comfortable?

Fuck no.

Am I about to enjoy every minute of it?

Without. A. Single. Doubt.

Once I’m settled, he shuts the door, walks around the front for his side, and joins me in the condensed space.

I wait until he starts the engine to playfully poke, “You sure you know how to handle a stick?”

“That wasn’t the question you were asking me at three in the morning when you were bent over my desk, now was it, Mrs. Wilcox?”

Heat flushes my face forcing me to distract myself by buckling the lap belt. “And where are we headed?”

“Into the unknown,” he teases on a wink.

While the reference seems to strike a memory with him, it doesn’t with me.

I mean it most likely should.

I’m sure it was meant to.

I appreciate that it was even if I can’t recall exactly what.

Maybe to our first date?

Our exit off the main estate property is slow and gradual and done to the sounds of us arguing over music choices – because old car to me means old music – however the instant we’re onto the main public road of transportation everything shifts.

The gears.

The speed.

The intensity.

Heavenly engine roars overpower the sounds of Duke Ellington and delectable vibrations rattle every fiber of my being until I’m left almost dazed and defenseless.

In a matter of mere minutes, gone is the overly cautious, overly controlling, comic nerd I let educate me in the vast difference between Deadshot and Deathstroke and in his place, a cocky, confident, car aficionado that can absolutely afford the speeding ticket that we – along with our trailing far behind security escort – are going to get.

“Left,” Wes abruptly begins after cutting around an older sedan, “is not only where Vanessa lives, but the same direction as our favorite movie theater.”

It’s hard to fully drink in the area we’re passing at the speed we’re going.

“We have a theater room at the estate yet the two of you are convinced the popcorn there is much better than Lucky’s.”

“Is it?”

“Yes.” His smirk gets me giggling. “However, if you ever tell Lucky I said that – or anything remotely close – I will thoroughly deny it like our son does when it comes to Lucky’s Brussel sprouts.”

There’s no stopping my theatrical gasp. “He likes Brussel sprouts?”

“As long as the two of us aren’t watching.”

“Asshole.”

Light laughter sounds get lost in between the upbeat jazz and system purrs but I see it.

And I love to see it.

And I wanna see more of it.

And more.

“To the right,” Wes proceeds, whipping in front of another vehicle in tandem with moving that direction, “about seven minutes away from the highway, there’s an exotic fish breeder – Mercurio – who sold us the fancy guppies that we just had to have for Wy’s first birthday party – because you read him The Rainbow Fish and both became obsessed – that Clark now plays cribbage with at least once a month.”

“I love that he loves that book.”

“He loves alotta books.” My husband doesn’t even hesitate to beam. “Mostly ones about the ocean or creatures from the ocean.”

More gleeful giggles escape encouraging the describing to continue.

Mentions of comic book shops prompt rounds of teasing that have us play fighting back and forth until more familiar terrain comes into view. At that point, the tour resumes with gestures to hole in the wall beach cafes, local thrift stores, and even surfboard shops that Calen evidently loves.

It’s obvious by the change in tone, the slight discomfort he has for my male bestie I haven’t seen or spoken to since the incident, yet rather than pull off that snorkel mask, I swim into other waters.

Do my best to keep us focused on the here and now.

Present.

“All the public beach parking areas are closed, Mr. Wilcox,” I playfully poke as he pulls into the gated territory. “ Hence the bar blocking our path dead ahead.”

Cockiness doesn’t hesitate to hop into his expression. “I have a way around that.”

“You bought a beach, didn’t you?”

“No,” the corners of his lips curl upward at the same time he tosses me a mischievous look, “but I am in the market for a beach manor. I think it’d be good to have for you and Little Hero.”

Excitement immediately drops my jaw.

“Our agent – Kirsten – hasn’t seen anything we’d like, but she’ll expand her search to South Haven Island when she returns from the real estate symposium, she’s attending in Hawaii with an old course mate.”

“Do I get a say in our beach residence?”

“I can’t imagine you’d accept one you didn’t.” Smugness is flashed mere seconds before our security detail finally pulls in behind us. Afterward, he rolls down the window, closes the small amount of distance between us and the booth, and greets the guard inside. “Evening, Abbas.”

“Evening, Mr. Wilcox,” says the male inside.

“Anywhere in the lot?”

“Yeah.” He leans down giving me a glimpse of the long, thick bearded, amber skinned individual. “Remember beach fires and camping overnight are currently prohibited. You have until four a.m. to vacate the premises. I’m here if you have any questions or need any further assistance.”

“Thank you.”

Nods are exchanged prior to the gate lifting, granting us access inside.

Wes veers to the left while our SUV escort branches off to the right presenting us with more than enough space to give the illusion of seclusion, which I’m beyond grateful for.

“ Spill, Mr. Wayne. ” I demand at the same time we both unbuckle our seatbelts. “How’d you pull this off?”

“Donations can get you quite far in life, Ms. Kyle.” His gaze glides over to me. “Something you may want to remember upon your return to the office.” We each flash smiles yet post mine he inquires, “Miss it?”

“The office or the ocean?”

“They’re one in the same for you.”

“They really fucking are,” leaves me in a swoony nature.

“We should spend more time here as a whole family,” Wes suggests as he kills the engine and relocates the keys to the dashboard. “You and Wy visit often without me, but I’d like to change that. And I have a feeling buying a beach property will aid in that process.”

“Are we here often without you because of work?”

There’s no reluctance to his nodding. “Which is a habit I’m working to break.”

“Need me to crack my leather whip.”

“You know we have one of those, yes?”

“Uh-huh,” I let my head eagerly bob, “I found it in the locked wall of our closet while playing hide and seek with Wy.”

“How’d you find it if it was locked?”

“It was locked when I found it…” An impish eyebrow wiggle gets us both grinning. “It was open when I left it.”

Additional chortles precede a headshake. “We keep that locked for a reason.”

“Yeah, you don’t like talking about sex in front of my mom-”

“ She’s your mother. ”

“-I can’t imagine you trying to explain to our son why we have dress up masks in our closet that he’s never allowed to wear.”

This time we laugh loudly together, an action that has my frame thoughtlessly rotating in the seat to face him. “Speaking of things, we’re not allowed to wear…”

“Intriguing segue.”

“While we’re permitted to enjoy our picnic on the beach – PBJs only because they travel better than grilled cheese – we are not allowed to wear our birthday suits on it or in the water.”

“Unlike our first date where that was my actual requirement.”

He cocks a curious eyebrow during the slight shifting of his frame. “You wrote that down?”

“What?”

“That we went skinny dipping.”

“No, of course not.” My amused eyeroll is accompanied by girlish giggles. “That’s the type of shit that falls into the ‘leave no paper trail’ tank.”

Undeniable hope wades through his expression as he asks, “Then who told you?”

“No one,” I thoughtlessly reply, irritation threatening to cross my complexion. “I don’t need anyone to tell me something I was there for. Especially when it involved seeing you soaking wet coming on my fingers.”

Wes presses his lips tightly together in tandem with tipping his head slightly to one side, clearly waiting for something else, but I don’t know what.

Why’s he looking at me like that?

What’s he waiting for me to add?

That it was hard not to come when I heard him come?

That I had tiny hickeys I didn’t wanna cover up?

That I almost always recall our next morning together whenever I have avocado toast?

All of a sudden, a large gasp escapes me, “ Iremembered! ”

He slowly nods, smile expanding.

“All on my own!”

“ All of your own. ”

“ Ohmygoooodddd! ”

“I brought you here to…sort of…recreate our first date…but not to jog your memory,” Wes innocently confesses. “Simply to make a new one.”

“Yet you’ve done both.”

His beam transitions to a teasing one. “I am quite talented, Mrs. Wilcox.”

“And I’m about to be quite naked, Mr. Wilcox.” Wes starts to rebut when I pull the dangling string to my dress causing the tight material to cascade downward, almost completely exposing my tits. “What do you think?” I wiggle the tight fabric lower and lower, slightly rocking the vehicle. “Should I leave my heels on?” It finally pools near my feet prompting me to step out of it. “They might damage the leather.”

“ Fuck the leather ,” he snarls before smashing his lips against mine.

Our tongues instantly twist and tangle and twirl.

His fights for the right to lead while mine refuses to submit, leading our mouths to hasten in speed.

Become sloppy in execution.

Disregard breathing until air isn’t an option so much as a necessity to continue our devouring; our devouring that starts with us in separate seats yet escalates to me crawling across the middle to his.

Unbuckling his slacks between bites being delivered to my neck.

My collarbone.

I slide his zipper down while his large palms roughly cup my tits, and my knees knock into the door.

The window handle.

My back and ass mercilessly crash into the steering wheel creating what should be just enough discomfort to deter me from continuing to work his dick out of his pants, yet it doesn’t.

No.

It pushes me to move faster.

Grip his shaft harder.

Clamp one hand onto Wes’s shoulder and savagely sit on it.

“ Fuck! ” is barked in tandem with his forehead banging against mine. “ How do you always feel this good, baby? ”

“ Magic, ” I tease during my slow ascending to the tip of his dick.

Rather than let me reach the peak, he yanks me back down by a fistful of hair. “ Stay here, Little Prey. ” His hips sharply thrust upward. “ Stay right. ” He bucks again. “ Fucking. ” And again. “ Here. ” It’s impossible not to let my head loll into the rapid tugging. “ Take. Every. ” Pulls once more to sync to pumps. “ Fucking. ” Shutting my eyes during his other hand’s ass squeezing can’t be stopped. “ Inch .”

Choppy moans unrelentingly reverberate around the small space making it impossible to hear the light jazz music coming from his phone, I imagine is now buried under my dress.

Our frames smash together again and again, rocking the vehicle in ways it was never intended to be rocked.

Contorting our figures in ways I’m sure weren’t originally on the menu.

Warm, wet pulsations not only keep Wes’s cock imprisoned just like he requests, they coerce it into thickening.

Tearing the taut area into two.

Stretching the slick muscles to the point I can’t so much as take in a breath without feeling him and only him.

Burning sensations build in my bending legs and clenching thighs and lengthening throat, however I push through them.

Moan past the pain from having metal jammed into my flesh and pant around the increasing rawness of my vocal cords.

“ You want my cum, Little Prey? ” Wes growls against my swollen lips, thick streaks of sweat slowly sliding down his jaw. “ Is that what you really wanted on this date? ”

“ Yes, ” airily leaves me, squeaks from the shocks we’re wearing out, echoing my answer.

“ Tell me what I wanna hear, Bryn. ” The use of my name warrants my sexual haze filled gaze finds his. “ Tell me what I always wanna fucking hear. ” His pounding doesn’t decrease in pressure or speed but fumbles in precision. “ Tell me what I always fucking need to hear. ” Additional uneven pumps have me melting. And trembling. “ Tell me the only thing that matters for me to fucking hear. ” He suddenly cups my cheek with the hand that was just on my ass and uses his thumb to strum my bottom lip. “ Tell me the one thing that makes my life fucking complete, baby. ”

“ Yours ,” escapes on a hitched breath, the only precursor to my pending orgasm. “ I’m. All. Yours. Wes. ”

“ All. ” He savagely heaves, thumb hooking itself on my teeth. “ Fucking. ” This jerk curls me tightly against him, pussy now uncontrollably thrumming, determined to take from him what he’s taking from me. “ Mine. ”

Sweltering splashes suddenly splatter against my quivering muscles successfully causing another round of screeching to skate across my tongue. The love of my life watches for only a split second before deciding he’d rather taste the window shattering screams than hear them.

Together, we whimper and whine and groan and moan and rock to the faint jazz music and even fainter sounds of the ocean, refusing to separate even a centimeter.

Because we don’t just belong together.

We are together.

Now.

Always.

Forever.