Personal: The Extended Edition (Private #3)

Chapter 16

Wes

I adjust the grip I have on Wy’s neon pink, beach bucket that’s covered in Batman stickers at the same time I squat down to point to a twisty brown and white seashell. “What about this one?” Once I have his attention, I add, “It reminds me of an ice cream cone.”

He drops one hand onto his bright turquoise Batman themed swim trunks and uses the other to stroke his hairless chin, clearly imitating a villain having a thought.

Which he is.

At least when it comes to seashell collecting.

I can’t help but think this is how his uncle feels when presenting me with a new idea.

His uncle who we picked him up from this morning for this family beach vacation moment.

After apologizing to J.T. yesterday at an impromptu brunch outing with the entire in-town family – including Vanessa – he offered to keep Little Hero for the rest of the day, allowing Bryn and I a chance to not only make up further but to discuss with Park what information he as well as Finnigan, our in-house private investigator, had managed to discover regarding the mystery assailant.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t much.

Surveillance cameras lost her at a busy coffee shop filled with entirely too many fingerprints to try to sort through.

Finnigan has been tasked with looking into all the individuals who arrived within the predicted timeframe while Park is waiting for us to legally obtain the footage from the academy.

And Wy will be going to school on Monday.

However, we will be arranging it so that at least one member of plain clothes security can pose in the lobby each day as a “potential parent” for an extra measure.

It was the closest I could get to compromising.

I understand he needs stability and security, but I need him safe and alive.

Happy is the only thing that’s debatable.

Gingerly persuading him occurs with a loving smile as I pick it up. “For Aunty Nae?”

“Oooo,” my son coos in return and prepares to reach for it, only to abruptly stop. Frown. Put a tiny hand in front of my face and wave it in denial. “ No. ”

I grunt, roll my eyes, and toss the tiny shell back on the wet sand.

This is why his mother swears he’s an asshole.

Bryn lowers herself to her knees, bunching up her white, oversized, crew cut out, coverup that’s concealing the tiny black bikini she bought after brunch yesterday during the process to avoid getting it dirty. “I think I see something you might like.” She gently brushes away the sand with two fingers until it can be revealed, leaving the two of us no choice but to curiously watch. The instant she’s finished, she sings, “ Tadahhhhhhh! ”

“A smand dollaaaaa!” Wy dramatically gasps before dropping to his knees as if he’s about to worship at Poseidon’s alter. “ Whooooaaa! ”

She shoots me a smug smirk. “It’s better to leave seashell hunting to the professional .”

The glare she’s offered in return is attached to a less than clever flashing of my middle finger.

Bryn giggles, flicks wet sand on my flip-flop covered feet, and giggles again.

MadHatterhavemercy, that sound drives me insane in all the best ways.

And the fact that Wy’s laugh sounds more like hers than mine only makes the shit that much more magical when they’re doing it together.

I swear my world literally stops.

“What’s the rule about sand dollars?” Bryn inquires at the same time our son attempts to wind his tiny fingers around it.

“Amime no mucket, no amine muck it!”

“Why do I feel that rhyme contains a swear, Little Prey?” I playfully scold.

To no surprise, my wife ignores me to ask, “And is it alive?”

He shakes his head. “It might!”

“It is wh-wh-white. ”

“And no moving wistles!” Wy carefully scoops it up to prove it. “ See. ”

“Very good.” The gentle boop to his nose receives his boyish giggles. “You could be a marine biologist like Mom!”

“Or marine cletarine like nucle Cay!”

Watching him put the item in the bucket I’m holding is followed by me declaring, “Am I the only one getting jewelry appraiser vibes from this experience?”

Airy laughs precede her rising back to her bare feet . “Not everything kids do when they’re younger sticks around when they’re older.”

“I would be more inclined to believe you if I didn’t know when your Star Trek origins began.”

More snickers escape.

“Dis wayyyyy!” Wyland charges further forward along the coastline, leaving us trailing behind.

Rather than rush to catch up – since we can keep him clear in our sights – I shift the bucket into the other hand and let my fingers slip together with hers. “What did you wanna be when you grew up?”

“A mermaid.” Her blue eyes somehow get bluer when they peer up at me. “I wanted to have gorgeous hair, swim all day, and talk to sharks because-”

“Fuck dolphins,” I finish with her unison.

She snickers and innocently shrugs. “What can I say? I’ve never been much of a fan.”

Which is the reason why no one has ever been allowed to gift our son that particular ocean creature toy.

“What about you?” Our fingers fold tighter together along our stroll. “What did you wanna be?” An impish expression slips onto her face. “Was it Batman? The man you ultimately became?”

“Being a hero seemed like wayyyyy too much pressure, even as a kid.” Shaking my head gets us both laughing more. “All that crimefighting? And locking them up in Gotham just for them to escape again ? It’s like…when does it ever end? When does he ever get to have a grilled cheese sandwich?!”

“Your priorities have always been in the right place, Mr. Wayne.” Another round of chuckles slips loose. “So, not a superhero but a…?”

“Paleontologist.”

“Aw…” Her head tilts lovingly to the side as she curls in closer. “You wanted to study dinosaurs like a typical little boy! That’s so cute!”

“Found one!” Wy unexpectedly shouts lifting another shell high into the air. “ For Gampi! ”

“Could that be the reason why he likes to dig so much when we’re at the beach?” I thoughtlessly question, around an unexpected shiver down my spine. “Did I somehow genetically pass that down?”

“Hate to break it to you, Wes, but he’s just a normal toddler. He likes to get messy and make messes.”

“The reason you two get along so well.”

“Absolutely.”

More laughs bounce between us while he scurries another foot ahead to pick something up. “Does that mean that when we have a daughter, she’ll be the same way at his age?” Our stares gravitate to one another in tandem with our footsteps slowing. “Loud? And messy? And stubborn?”

Her lack of immediate response tempts me into turning back the page, yet I fight against it.

Hold my ground.

Our couple’s therapist has been advising we discuss the subject in a natural setting versus withdrawing whenever we get near it.

We’ve lightly touched on the miscarriage; however, we haven’t explored the possibility of actually trying for another or seeing what naturally happens or being content with just the one we have.

I don’t need us to deep dive into the issue.

But we should at least be dipping our toes in.

“Pokey!” Wy cries out, instantly receiving our attention just in time to see him nodding in approval. “Lurch like.”

“I know it’s unlikely given how messy I am-”

“Organized challenged.”

“-but when we do have a girl I kind of not so secretly hope she gets your neat nerd habits.” It’s impossible not to let the corners of my lips tug upwards. “ Idontknow if I can handle the stress of searching for the seaweed green marker lid for an hour before bed just so that it doesn’t dry out and I don’t have to hear our child sob like they’re watching ‘The Inner Light’ episode for the first time.”

“That’s the one where Picard lives that whole life in his head after being hit by a probe, correct?”

She somberly nods and places her empty hand on her chest. “It hurts. It legit hurts every time I watch it. Nae and I have to have a carton of ice cream on emergency standby.”

I lightly laugh, shake my head once more, and drop a kiss onto the side of her forehead, not only relieved that she’s open to the idea, but that we talked about it.

That we can talk about things, not just fight.

My mouth twitches to express my gratitude about that when Holmes’s large palm lands firmly on my shoulder and his words closely to my ear. “Hurst is reporting suspicious activity coming from the south and advising us to proceed directly to the yacht.”

I angle my face away from Bryn’s that’s battling strands being kicked up by the wind to ask, “Should we head home instead?”

“Park believes the inaccessibility of a yacht by an outside party is a wiser safety measure.”

“Unless that’s their plan,” I hiss back at the hushed volume. “Force us to the boat and attack there.”

Holmes flashes a small cringe on an even smaller shrug. “That’s a possibility, Wilcox; however, you don’t pay me to consider those types of strategies. You pay Park for that. And Park doesn’t seem concerned with an aquatic attack.”

“Perhaps he should be.”

“Maybe he should, but,” another bounce of his shoulders is wedged between statements, “between what Hurst has reported and the less than subtle movements I’ve been observing of that woman in the pineapple print bikini at our two o’clock, I would advise us moving to the yacht now where the three of you are easier to cover, we have high ground, and a weapons advantage.”

An immediate nod of agreement is given.

“Everything okay?” Bryn cautiously inquires as Holmes lags back to speak into his earpiece.

My jaw lowers, a casual lie of protection prepared to soar off, yet I stop.

Take a small swipe of my lips.

Release a deep breath and let her haunting words from just a couple days ago rewrite my words.

“ No. ”

Her eyebrows immediately launch to the beautiful blue sky.

“We’ve got questionable activity surrounding us, so we’re going to have to abandon seashell hunting and head straight for the yacht.”

She bobs her head in understanding and swiftly calls out, “Little Fins! Come here!”

Wy dramatically spins towards us and shouts, “Not done!”

“I wasn’t asking,” sasses his mother sharply. “ I’m telling. ”

The phrasing thankfully works yet to showcase his displeasure he comes to linger near me rather than her. “ I touble? ”

“No, Little Hero,” reassurance is attached to swooping him up into my arms, preparing to shield him as much as her. “We just need to get to the boat where the Captain Wally is waiting.”

“Captain Wally!” Wy enthusiastically exclaims on a clapping of his tiny hands. “I be Captain!”

Huh.

Why didn’t that cross my mind?

Considering he loves the captains on Star Trek and the ocean and bossing people around, a ship captain actually makes quite a bit of sense.

Our walk across what remains of the beach to our waiting golf cart is quick as is the drive over with Hill to the marina where the yachts are docked.

The process of getting loaded and settled onto La Bouteille En Verre – The Glass Bottle – provides security with an easy cover to extensively sweep the area while Wy, Bryn, and myself casually chat with Walter Rosewood – aka Wally – in the wheelhouse where he lets our son wear his hat.

Pretend to steer.

He gives fake directions to Wy who rambles them back to an imaginary crew – since the actual crew is busy preparing for departure – in between telling us how having his heartbroken in the small town he grew up in – Sunshine Bend – ultimately led him to indulging in the life of his dreams, which is this.

Living on and driving a beautiful vessel.

Once everyone is given the all clear on both land and water, we head for the open waters.

It doesn’t take long for our son to get noticeably fussy, revealing the obvious need for a nap, and instead of discussing who should put him down I volunteer.

Insist she goes down to the pool.

Relax.

Enjoy basking in the sun as much as the cool ocean air.

The process of getting Wy to crash out on a boat is vastly easier than that of the estate or penthouse and having Helena McLain, our on-yacht nanny who is also Wally’s much, much younger life partner, on duty to assist with bringing him to us when he awakes provides Bryn and I both with an adequate amount of comfort to truly unwind while he’s out of sights.

About the time I arrive at the pool area where Byn is stretched out in the water, peacefully staring out into the waves, we’re joined by Hurst who seems to have information to report.

“False alarm,” he announces while I ditch my black tank top. “Both females in question were nothing more than social media sharks.”

“Don’t disgrace my babies like that,” my wife mirthfully bites.

Fighting his urge to grin isn’t impossible but noticeably a struggle. “One works for Global Laundry- ”

“Of course they do,” I grunt during my shoe removal.

“And the other for some celebrity tracking site.” His eye roll encourages mine. “Jessie’s friends constantly use it to see which bars or clubs they should be near to increase their chances of meeting whatever actor or knickknock star they’re into.”

“You mean TikTok ?” Bryn questions in obvious amusement, body rotating our direction.

He shrugs off his mistake. “Sure.”

She swallows her snickers, leaving me to steer the conversation back on course. “Does Park believe the celebrity tracker site is how they located Bryn the day of the first incident? Or the hospital? Or even Wy’s school?”

“He doesn’t; however, I can inform him you’d like him to explore the possibility again.”

“Do that.”

“Yes, Sir.” He slides his hand into his pocket to retrieve his device. “Anything else?”

“A privacy perimeter.” Stealing a glimpse of my wife’s soaking wet tits, practically bursting out of the string opening pushes me to sternly add, “For at least an hour. Understood?”

Hurst smirks, nods, and spins on heels, “ Understood, Wilcox. ”

Subtle?

No.

Effective?

Undoubtedly.

Which is what truly matters.

I want completely uninterrupted time with my wife while it’s available.

Her back at work, me working, Wy’s never ending school needs, health appointments, along with our social and family obligations has this unappealing way of limiting our one-on-one opportunities.

And honestly?

Post the incident?

I now clearly see what it is she saw pre.

We have got to figure out how to make more time together for just us.

“Tell me, Little Prey,” I nonchalantly begin during my descent down the stairs into the long rectangle pool. “What were you looking at the water and thinking about?” She swivels her frame to face mine. “Blue sharks? Whale sharks?” The cold liquid reaches my lowers abs. “The rare speartooth shark you want us to make a special trip to Australia just to try to see?”

“I was actually thinking about when you walked us into the water on our wedding night, but now that you bring up the shark thing, let me just clarify, that that doesn’t have to be an us thing.” Giggles get me shaking my head in disapproval, leaving me no time to reflect on the latest memory that’s returned to her. “That can totally be just a me thing.”

“I’m not letting my wife travel across the world – alone – to maybe see an elusive shark.”

“I can take Calen.”

The rebuttal narrows my gaze and gets me slowly stalking towards her. “I’m absolutely not letting my wife travel across the fucking world with another man without me.”

“ You’re so sexy when you’re growly, Mr. Wilcox, ” she lightly snickers on a splash of water.

“ You’re so sexy when you’re mine, Mrs. Wilcox ,” I flirt in return prior to lunging forward to grab her.

Unfortunately for me, she executes an evasive maneuver to ensure she’s not caught and drops below the water, expecting me to pursue her.

To chase.

To never stop chasing no matter how hard she tries to get away.

I grab a giant gulp of air, drop below the surface, and dart after her knowing the only way to win is to be creative about my methods.

I repeatedly fake moving one direction and then the other, doing my best to continuously block her pathing, only to fail. The Slippery Little Mermaid skates past me along the very edge of the pool by swimming on her side while I’m simply trying to twist to face her yet again giving her space to get away. Frustrations push me up for air and the instant I rise to grab a gulp, so does she, prompting me to abandon the act mid suck in a desperate attempt to catch her off guard.

Except there is no “off guard” when Bryn’s in the water.

Here she’s somehow both relaxed and laser focused.

Carefree and cutthroat.

Fun and free and feral.

Her resolve – to no shock – lasts longer than mine forcing me to breathlessly surrender sooner than I care to admit. “ You win, baby. ” Wiping away the water off my face precedes a defeated grin. “ You are the queen of swim tag. ”

She uses both hands to push all of her wet locks away from her face. “ And what exactly is my prize, Weston? ”

The tone.

The name.

The fact that the strings to her top are already beginning to loosen.

“ What exactly would you like, Brynley? ”

One small pull liberates her tits from the bikini prison they’ve been screaming in. “ To be your prey… ”

I snatch her over to me by the ends of her hair and savagely smash my mouth on top of hers.

There’s no gentle nipping or light licking.

Her lips are roughly spread in tandem with her legs ruthlessly nudged wider.

And wider.

The hand gripping her hair, callously winds the strands around my fingers for a better grip while the other drops below the surface.

Barbarically yanks at her bottoms.

Creates a matching grasp to the one above the water and ferociously tugs causing the material to teasingly caress her clit.

An attempt to break her lips free immediately occurs on the most irresistible whimper prompting my wet muscle to whip around hers faster.

Trap it deeper.

Punish it for its desire to escape and ceaselessly provide more reasons to steadily strengthen the pressure against her swelling nub.

Increase the pace.

Grind my tongue, my hips, and my wrist all at the same speed until I literally feel her knees buckling.

Then – and only then – do I allow my mouth to fall from hers enough to airily command, “ Beg. ” Completely undoing her bottoms is executed alongside a growled, “ Beg for me, Little Prey. ”

“ Please, ” Bryn shakily implores, lower half anxiously rocking back, desperate for connection. Satisfaction. “ Please, Wes. ”

“ Please…what, Little Prey? ” I guide the tip of my dick out of my shorts and tauntingly circle it around her entrance. “ Please, touch you? ” Repeating the action receives a whimper. “ Please, fuck you? ” A small push inside has her pussy needily clamping down on the head of my cock. “ Please, make you fucking scream? ” Another shallow rock is delivered. “ Be. More. Specific. ”

She drops her head backwards so that her hooded gaze can find mine and purrs, “ Please, make me yours. ”

Sharply thrusting forward bows her back on a boat shaking scream, leaving me no other option than to do it again.

And again.

To possessively cup her pussy and fuck her into my hand.

Wet wave upon wave washes over my cock, commanding I ride them, control them, claim them or become completely consumed by them.

Our bodies effortlessly crash together resulting in the pool water splashing us.

The sides of the deck.

The chairs containing our coverups.

Hypotonic melodies of the ocean crashing into the yacht fuse with the heavenly howls of my name being offered in mercy and gratitude and desideratum.

A ferocious pendulum of hair pulling and pussy pounding precedes her fingers planting themselves on the very edge of the pool for leverage and her knees carelessly colliding into the wall during their struggle for stability.

“ Such a good little piece of prey, ” I wolfishly pant, teeth sinking into the nape of her neck. The side. “ You’re gonna come all over my cock, aren’t you? ”

“ Yes, ” my wife agrees without hesitation, ass bucking unrelentingly into each pump.

“ You’re gonna show me that I’m the predator. ”

“ Y-y-y… ” her head tries to whip away inspiring me to clamp down on the sensitive skin harder. “ Yes! ”

“ You’re the prey ,” is purred between bites. “ You’re my fucking prey, baby. ”

“ Goddddyessss .” Bryn wildly trembles when the grinding of my palm quickens. “ So close. ”

“ You want my fucking cum? ” The sensation of her sopping wet muscles swelling around my shaft has me sucking in air through gritted teeth and throwing my whole body into every frantic thrust. “ You want what only my little prey ever gets? ”

“ Y-y-y-yes ,” can barely leave her quivering lips.

“ Scream my fucking name, Bryn. ”

Once more her movements and breath falter.

“ Scream my fucking name and I’ll give you everything you want. ” My legs wobble as my balls tighten in warning. “ Everything you fucking need. ”

“ Wes ,” escapes in what feels like just a whisper before carnal cries come rushing out to the same searing hot cadence her slick muscles are delivering. “ Wes! Wes! Wesssss! ”

“ Mine. ” Red-hot ropes of cum rush to blend with the erotic effusion I’m victoriously relishing in while Bryn’s head snaps back into my teeth’s latest unyielding grip. I gormandize on the vibrations of her gracious whines of gratification in tandem with my dick delightfully drowning in a second round of orgasmic waves. “ Only. ” Smugness can literally be felt as my lips spread against her neck, and we both love it. “ Mine. ”