Personal: The Extended Edition (Private #3)

The Evening of The Wilcox-Winters Wedding

Wes

Black and yellow décor.

Both bartenders dressed like Guinan.

Band currently playing “Pour Some Sugar on Me”.

It’s seemingly a perfect evening.

By far the most perfect one we’ve ever had together yet…the bride is nowhere to be found.

Why?

Arriving behind my best friend, my best man, and by far the drunkest member of my wedding party, I prepare to ask him has he seen his other best friend – the one I married about two hours ago – when he whines, “Come on, Vanessa! Introduce us!”

Vanessa’s dark strands brush her bare shoulder as she defiantly tilts her head. “You’re not his sister’s type.”

“Why not?” He absentmindedly fiddles with his half-full whiskey glass while she does the same to her yellow bouquet of bridesmaid flowers. “Am I too tall? Too short? Too rich? Not rich enough?”

“Too pretty.”

“What?!”

“You keep your nails more manicured than I do.”

“I’m in boardrooms where people stare at my hands!”

“And she’s in fire stations where people stare at her arms!”

I drop one hand onto his shoulder, not only interrupting the futile conversation but summoning his glossy gaze up to mine. “Bride?”

They flick their wrists in tandem to point off in the distance where the woman of the hour has secluded herself near the water, far away from all the fun.

All the guests.

Me.

Dread drags itself along the length of my spine during my stroll over; however, I don’t let it stop me.

Whatever is wrong I’ll deal with it head on.

Whatever I’ve done wrong I’ll deal with it straight forward.

We aren’t going backwards.

We aren’t going to hide our unhappiness whenever it shows up.

We’re going to confront it.

Communicate.

We’re going to do all the things we vowed to do in front of our guests just a bit ago.

Upon my arrival beside her, I brace myself for the worst by sliding my hands into my black tux suit pockets. “Was it my dancing or my singing?”

Bryn snaps her head in my direction, long flowy locks immediately swept up by the warm October breeze. “What?”

“Was it something else?” Concern struggles not to coat my entire complexion. “Was it the lighting? The choice of word searches on the tables? The vases? The cake?”

“I loooooooooove our cake,” Bryn enthusiastically gushes at the same time both hands adoringly wind around my bicep. “The fact that Yasmine made it this whole Gotham City meets Starfleet thing is so fucking incredible that I literally cannot wait to tell every Trekkie me and Puppet Boy meet at the convention about it next summer.”

“Can we hold off on being excited to spend a romantic getaway with my best man for a moment and tell me why you’re unhappy now at this one with me?”

Confusion doesn’t hesitate to hop onto her face. “I’m not unhappy.”

“Then why aren’t you back there?” My head slightly tips towards the reception area. “Uncomfortably watching your mother and stepfather grinding to 80s hair metal bands like I was?”

“First off, I would never be uncomfortable watching my mom dance-”

“You might if you saw her reenacting a music video from her youth.”

“And second,” she emphasizes around snickers, “I’m here instead of there to properly watch the sunset.”

Relief instantly seeps into my stare.

Onto my shoulders.

Allows for air to reach my lungs.

My stomach to settle.

“One of my favorite things to do at the beach is watch the sunset – or sunrise – over the water while in the water. It’s this weird, perfect moment in time where everything is simultaneously ending and beginning made even more magical by the sounds of the wind and water and being at one with the ocean, but because I’m wearing this,” she points to the gorgeous lacy, boho, off-the-shoulders number, “having my bare feet in it is – unfortunately – as close to ‘being in’ the water as I can get.”

“Why?”

Her brow twitches a new wave of bewilderment. “Why what?”

“Why are your feet in the water as close as you can get?”

“Skinny dipping at a public beach in front of everyone we know seems like a bad call.”

“Agreed.”

“And this,” a finger is gestured along her gorgeous growing frame – and Gothamhavegoddamnmercy is it fucking stunning on display in the white gown that’s framing her tits like the world’s sexiest flotation devices – “isn’t exactly meant for getting that kind of wet.”

It’s impossible to resist smirking over the sexual tease. “Says who?”

“The designer.”

“Not here.”

“The storeowner.”

“Also, not here.”

“The wedding planner.”

“Works for us.”

“The photographer.”

“Also works for us.”

The mischievous quirking of her eyebrow is everything I want.

Now.

Always.

Forever.

“Mr. Wilcox,” she seductively begins while gently tugging me forward, “are you suggesting I get into the water like this?”

“No.” Swiftly swooping her up into my arms hitches her breath. “I’m suggesting we get in the water like this, Mrs. Wilcox.”

Bryn excitedly sinks her teeth into her neutrally painted bottom lip and wraps her arms securely around my neck. “I love hearing you call me that.”

“Good.” I adjust my grip while toeing off my shoes. “Because I love saying it.” Getting my feet sock free requires a little more finagling. “And I love you being it, little prey.”

She gives my white dress shirt a sweet tug. “And I love being it, Wes.”

Happy hums precede me marching us straight into the water.

Coldness immediately seeps through the expensive material of my pants, yet it doesn’t slow me down or deter me.

No.

The only thing that matters today and tomorrow and always is being the reason the woman in my arms smiles rather than frowns.

Moans instead of groans.

Giggles versus gags.

Although, I don’t mind the latter when she’s on her knees.

Water steadily climbs up our attire, higher and higher and higher, until I’m damn near chest deep and the edge of her ass can be repeatedly spanked by waves that seem just as eager to see her as she is them.

Once I settle in place, she gently cups my cheek to turn my mouth to hers. Our lips lightly press together while our tongues take a billowier approach, mimicking the movements of the ocean that’s softly swaying our figures. Each time it knocks into us, we tighten our holds on one another, preparing to withstand whatever the water brings.

Whatever the world brings to us next.