Personal: The Extended Edition (Private #3)

Chapter 20

Brynley

The best part of basically being held hostage in our downtown penthouse for the past week where I’m working from home and healing from the car wreck injuries while my son is with his grandparents in another country?

All the orgasms I can handle.

And even more of the ones I can’t.

Wes’s fingers roughly dig into the globes of my ass as he spreads it wide for the taking. His tongue rolls around the freshly washed tiny hole, violently thrusting the tip past the instinctual resistance, demanding it accept his brutal invasion.

Light whimpers swiftly shift into deeper sighs of satisfaction that have me arching forward towards his bent legs.

Needily clawing until it gets him groaning.

Spanking.

One cheek.

The other.

Having his tongue smoothly slide downward to slip inside my pussy instantly crumples my frame further towards the couch due to the trembles becoming too overpowering not to succumb to.

“ Wes, ” floats off my tongue during my first rock back into the rapacious lashing. “ More. ”

Unbalanced and even more unpredictable whirls of his wet muscle wildly whip around the bare area, spreading the scorching, sticky juices onto his cheeks and his nose and his chin, bathing what was his recently washed face in my seemingly ceaseless sexual content.

More moans of approval prepare to grace our ears when his efforts abruptly transition back to my ass where he savagely swipes.

Sucks.

Swipes.

Stabs.

Swipes and skates his tongue the short distance inside my pussy yet again.

An unabated oscillation between the two areas effortlessly begins, starting with agonizingly slow licking, the type that leaves me no choice but to whine for more.

Wordlessly beg by wiggling my hips.

Grinding myself against his unhurriedly moving muscle.

“ More, ” I unhappily pout hoping it’ll increase his celerity.

Inspire new actions.

Unbearable licking unfortunately becomes unbearable lapping due to it being delivered at the exact same tortuously slow speed and accompanied by shiver worthy grumbles against my clit.

This is the only thing that makes the man I married a monster.

No one should enjoy controlling someone else’s orgasm this much.

“ Wesssss… ” seeps past my lips as I toss a scowl over my shoulder. “ More. ”

His response is growled against my lower lips, “ Manners. ”

“ Please .” There’s no reluctance or shame in my pleading. “ Please, give me more, Wes. ”

“ How. ” A tiny nip is taken of my drenched thigh. “ Much. ” Another from the opposite side. “ More? ” One toe curling lick is trailed from one entrance to the other where it then salaciously teases and taunts the taut hole.

“ Allofit, ” thoughtlessly rushes out prior to my head dazedly dropping forward. “ Give me all of it, please. ”

Barbarously gripping my ass cheeks is attached to a deep, guttural grumble, “ Fucking sit on my cock, Little Prey. ”

What type of selfish twat waffle wife would I be if I didn’t do what I was told at this very moment?!

Getting off his mouth and onto his dick occurs in what feels like a single blink.

I don’t waste time easing down.

Or dragging out the spine-tingling sensation that is sparked during my descent.

No.

I voraciously slam down, clit brushing so delectable with his balls, that I’m instantly tempted to do it again.

And again.

And again.

Yet before I can continue the cycle past the initial caresses, Wes is sitting up.

Curling his hand on my shoulders.

Yanking me into each primitive pound as he grunts and growls.

Growls and groans.

Groans and bucks and fucks and until my incessant panting ceases courtesy of my inability to catch a breath, to have a single thought that isn’t me jerking my ass into his deliciously frantic thrusting.

Our hasty, headless heaving creates a concupiscent concert of slapping skin, dripping juices spreading, and inhuman howls that would probably have security wishing they were allowed earplugs while on duty.

Tingling in my toes precedes the tightening in my calves and thighs all clear indications of what’s coming.

Warnings of the orgasm I’m by no means trying to fend off.

Thick, torrid torrents abruptly begin deep inside igniting my own heavenly rushes that immediately race to fuse with his, an action made even easier when he possessively winds his arms around my torso, trapping us together on a gluttonous growled, “ Take that shit, Little Prey. ” Additional twitches of his cock have my pussy greedily gormandizing the latest little bursts. “ Every. Last. Fucking. Drop. ”

We shudder through the aftershocks together, yet it’s me that gasps when his teeth sink into my shoulder blade.

And me that sighs when his lips skirt across the bite.

And me that moans the instant I feel his shaft stirring for a second round still inside me.

“ Again, ” Wes airily declares, mouth impatiently inching its way towards mine. “ I wanna come inside you again. ” He tugs my face towards his by my earlobe. “ I need to. ”

Familiar chiming from his nearby tablet sadly doesn’t leave time to even consider the notion. “Looks like we need to cover up.”

He reaches the nearest throw blanket while I grab my abandoned robe that’s been balled up under the coffee table for some unknown stretch of time.

Time’s already a concept I’m not great with.

Being locked behind closed doors for the past week where we can snack and fuck and binge to our heart’s content didn’t exactly help.

Answering Clark’s video chat is done the second my tits are respectfully out of view.

“Afternoon,” he warmly greets from his end of the phone. “Am I interrupting?”

“Of course not,” I coyly play off after delivering a ruffle to my hair. “We were just…getting ready for the day. It’s only morning here.”

“We were having breakfast,” Wes cheekily adds.

“I see,” my stepfather amusedly hums. “Let me remind you both to properly clean your faces now that you’ve cleaned your plates.”

Crimson remorselessly coats his cheeks leaving the smooth segue up to me. “And speaking of those with messy faces, how’s my baby boy?”

“The usual.” Clark briefly angles the camera to the room behind him where Wyland is beaming brightly at Brie Kenningston. “ Charming. ”

“Mo’ spinkles?” Wy adoringly asks.

“You already have so many,” she snickers, shaker still moving towards whatever treat is in front of him despite the objection.

“Jus’ oneeeeeee ,” he playfully taps her nose, “mo?”

“ Ahhhhh ,” girlish giggles are attached to her caving, “you’re too cute! How does anyone resist you?”

“Should I be concerned that the little lad is clearly making his move on you, love?” Kellan playfully inquires while watching her fawn all over my son.

“ Maybeeeeee. ”

Clark rotates the camera back to him. “I should probably go help the situation before my grandson accidentally starts an international incident.” He does his best to keep his tone light. “I just wanted to touch base before you became unavailable.” A familiar fatherly expression falls onto his face. “Make sure that you both are alright.”

Wes offers him the most reassuring smile he can muster up. “ We will be. ”

He hates this plan.

He actually hated all of Park’s proposed versions of the plan, but this one the most because it requires me to be out of his direct sight.

But the truth is, he has nothing to worry about.

I have an extra safeguard for this situation.

I’m gonna be fine.

It’s the unidentified twat that should be worried.

“ Gammmpiiiiii ,” calls Wy in the background. “ Want spinkle?! ”

“He’s only trying to get me to eat sprinkles with him because Gami is still napping,” Clark mirthfully chuckles. “I’m onto him.”

“He most certainly is a lady’s man,” Wes laughs. “I blame his uncle.”

Curiosity has me quickly questioning, “Which one?”

“ Either ,” my husband chortles. “They’re both a little too flirty – even married.”

“Such a prude for a man who just had his tongue in my-”

“We’ll call when we have news,” Wes hurriedly cuts me off. “Tell Little Hero we miss him.”

Clark waves goodbye and ends the call presenting me with the perfect moment to declare something that’s been on my mind since we abruptly put them and Hill on a plane in the middle of the night. “You’re flying with me to bring them home.”

His body shifts itself to create a bit of space between us post tossing the tablet back on the table. “ Excuse me? ”

“You haven’t flown since your parent’s death.”

“I’m aware.”

“Don’t you think it’s time to-”

“No.”

“I think that-”

“ No. ”

“Yeah, that whole, not letting me finish having my own independent thought didn’t work with the queen in that parable they tell Wy at bedtime, and it damn sure isn’t about to work for the mouthy princess now . ”

“You remember that story?”

“How can I not?” My eyebrows pull together in perplexity. “They’ve been telling some version of it to him at least once a month since he was born. I’m honestly surprised they haven’t put it in picture form yet.”

Wes doesn’t bother hiding the grin growing on his lips. “You remember it.”

“ Yeah. ”

“It’s not written down anywhere.”

“ Nope. ”

“And they haven’t told it to him since the incident. Since…your… condition. ”

“That’s-” The realization he was trying to express finally hits me. “ That’s…true… ”

One hand tenderly lands on my thigh. “Seems like the less we focus on the past, the more that comes back.”

“And I love that,” my palm falls on top of his, “but I love moving towards our future more. ” Curling my fingers around his is followed by adding, “And in that future, I want us to travel. For work. For pleasure. For family. ” He attempts to pull back encouraging me to tighten my grasp. “I understand the anxiety that’s stirred whenever you so much as look at your family jets; however, I know you’ll never be able to fully let go of the guilt you still harbor about what happened to your parents and my dad until you step foot onto one again. And I may not be as counselor amazing as Troi was on the ship, but I’m willing to bet my 3-D chess set that that’s root of the reason that you don’t . Because you are not ready to forgive yourself yet.”

“ It was my fault, Brynley. ”

“ It wasn’t. ” Gently cupping his cheek forces his stare to stay with mine. “But it will be yours, if you’re not there to experience any part of your son’s first big plane-based vacation.”

Which is what we’re cleverly calling hiding him at the royal palace in Doctenn where attacking it would be an actual declaration of war.

As far as his school is concerned, this was not a panic tactic.

This was a pre-planned trip to simply visit family friends.

Post putting them on a plane, Park helped concoct cover stories that wouldn’t alert anyone to the progress in uncovering answers that we’ve made or how terrified for our son’s safety we’ve truly become. Them out of town for vacation took care of the school – who emails daily the lessons of the day in case we want to keep him in sync with his classmates – while needing space to recover from a “hit & run” handled the rest.

Our secluded nature provided Park and Finnigan adequate space and time to narrow down the leads as well as the details of setting the bait – which we casually did yesterday when we met J.T. and Nae for local pizza – setting the trap – which they handled this morning – and setting the stage for the interrogation I cannot wait for us to get to.

To my surprise, my husband meekly argues, “I don’t think my passport is still valid.”

“It is.” A sassy smile is accompanied by my hand falling away. “J.T. had Zaidee renew it when he thought we were going to fly to a tropical honeymoon rather than yacht.”

“You didn’t hate yachting.”

“What kind of ocean loving vixen would I be if I hated yachting, Mr. Wayne?”

Light chortles precede him slowly nodding in what can only be considered conceding. “You’re right, Ms. Kyle.”

“ So. So. Often. ”

“You’ve proven you can move forward.” He lovingly leans forward for a kiss. “It’s time I do the same.”