Public (Private Book 2)

by Xavier Neal

  “Out the ass-”

  “-about safety and then of course demanded you call me as often as possible, but I would’ve never prevented you from leaving, baby.”

  To my surprise, she sheepishly says, “I’m sorry, Wes.”

  “I’m sorry you feel you can’t talk to me,” I instinctively counter.

  Her face inches closer to mine. “I’ll work on it….”

  A low groan is grabbed from her proximity. “You’re really going to have my son?”

  “Or daughter.” She shifts from beside me onto my lap. “But if it is a boy, no junior.”

  On a short chuckle, I wind my arms around her. “Is that up for debate?”

  “Absolutely not.”

  We exchange a smirk. Shortly after, I sincerely ask, “Are you okay with this?”

  She doesn’t answer.

  I push down the expanding knot of apprehension. “I know this isn’t the best timing-”

  “As long as we figure out a way for me to be a wife, mother, and a continued employee of the Bower and Powell Institute, I think everything will end up better than I could’ve imagined.”

  Her words soothe the alarm that had surged. Brynley lowers her lips to lightly linger against mine. I patiently wait for her to press them completely together yet when she doesn’t I realize what she’s offering me. Forcefully, I push her against me, lips capturing hers without resistance. She melts from the contact and locks her fingertips onto the nape of my neck. My tongue takes advantage of her desperation for its commanding touch while my hand wanders underneath her dress. I drag my soft graze across her ass cheek until it reaches the delicate fabric of her thong. When I slip past the border to let my fingertip slide down her crack, she enthusiastically arches into me.

  I roll my finger around her wet entrance, but don’t enter.

  She abruptly pulls away and grumbles, “Don’t fucking tease me, Wes.”

  A cocky smirk spreads across my lips, yet I continue my taunting movements. “Or what?”

  Without hesitation she thrusts herself back onto my finger. The unexpected impact causes us to moan in unison. Her muscles clamp down around the visitor, providing a gracious welcome. She begins a slow, tantalizing torture of lifting her pussy up to the tip of my finger to then slam it back down. Each powerful push wedges the wet digit deeper and tears another groan from my chest.

  “You’re so fucking sexy, baby….” This time I curl my finger when her pussy hits my palm. She salaciously sighs at the action, and my free hand swoops around to press down on her shoulder. Her body bucks to fight the added pressure from two different ends, which forces me to barbarically growl, “Take it.”

  The combination of words, actions, and tone tighten her pussy around my finger. I watch as her head lolls backward from her falling faster and faster towards the ecstasy floor. She increases her velocity, and my hard cock knocks against my pants in a perfect paired rhythm, pleading for its release. Pleading to feel what it is my finger is just moments from feeling.

  Brynley’s entire body begins to uncontrollably shake as if I’m trying to hold onto an earth quake by the mere tips of my fingers. On a sharp shout of my name, her pussy profusely pulsates, and my dick threatens to do the same.

  Our mouths hastily smash back together to sync our tongues to the pace of her orgasm.

  Unfortunately, the moment we start to tug at one another’s clothing, my cell phone starts to vibrate in my pocket.

  I prepare to ignore the device when the entire reason I demanded we meet in the middle of the work day storms to the front of my mind.

  Brynley snaps at me over the decision to reach for it. “Are you fucking kidding me right now? You’re about to be balls deep in your pregnant fiancée and decide now is a good time to answer your phone?”

  Opening the text message from Evie, I retort, “I will be balls deep in you, baby. I’m not leaving the penthouse again until that happens.”

  There’s a pleased hum proceeded by a wiggle of her hips.

  Evie: Question Brynley’s best friend Calen about unusual people as well.

  I begin to type my reply, “Bryn, do you remember seeing anyone unusual while you were out of town?” After I hit send, our eyes meet again. “Anyone who maybe gave you an uncomfortable vibe from a distance? Anyone lurking or loitering too close?”

  She shakes her head quickly. “No. And believe me; my rapey radar is extremely effective.”

  The chosen choice of words causes me to cringe. “Does this radar include the possibility of non-rape potential threats? Such as stalkers or gawkers?”

  Her body dislodges itself from mine and she positions herself back on the bed. “What is this about?”

  “Someone knew you were pregnant, Bryn, and leaked it to Global Laundry. The article they published mentioned you finding out when you did and included details of your injury which we had not mentioned to the public, meaning someone was there and sold that information to the media.” I push past the fear of the verbal lashing waiting for me. “You’re sure it wasn’t Calen?”

  Brynley glares instantly. “Are you sure you just don’t want it to be Calen, so you have an excuse to hate him?”

  It’s my turn to scowl. “Do not act like I don’t want you to have friends.”

  “You don’t unless they lack a dick. You get pissy anytime I hang with Calen or J.T., though at least with the latter you’re getting better at hiding it.”

  My heated response jumps to the tip of my tongue, but thankfully is halted by the vibrating of my phone again.

  J.T.: Am I gonna be an uncle?

  His comment causes me to cock a grin.

  “Why are you suddenly smiling? Are you sending someone over to Calen’s now to like break his knee caps or something? Because I swear to God-”

  “How long do we wait to tell everyone?”

  Being blindsided by my question sends her jaw bobbing.

  “Can we do it soon?” I question, my smile staying.

  “Is this to help clean up the media shit being flung on our door step?”

  Quickly, I shake my head, toss my phone to the side, and pull her close to me again. “I wanna tell the whole world how fucking lucky I am that not only will you marry me, but you’ll start a family with me too….”

  Her face softens. “We can get everyone together for dinner tonight at the manor and tell them.” Brynley’s body climbs back into my lap. “But you promised you weren’t leaving this penthouse until after you were balls deep….”

  A hungry sound echoes around the room, and I tug her lips down to mine by the front of her dress.

  We’ll deal with Evie, the possibility of a leak, and the completely fabricated story about my deceased father later. Right now, the only thing that matters is the woman I plan to spend the rest of my life with knows how much I love her and how excited I am we’re going to be establishing our very own family.

  My mother grabs me firmly by the hand and drags me towards the boutique. “You’re being ridiculous, Brynley. Even for you.”

  I dig my heels even harder into the sidewalk. “What the fuck ever. You’re not the one who had to spend the entire time listening to Carol Lynn or Carol Ann or whatever Hillbilly Barbie’s name was complaining about her boyfriend of like a decade not ready to marry her yet. She really killed the mood of wedding dress shopping.”

  Which wasn’t exactly hard. I’m not enjoying it at all. Doesn’t help that the price tags have me refusing to even touch them, and it helps even less to realize the super sexy ones I wanna wear won’t be the same level of sexy with a round stomach. Unfortunately, Wes and I haven’t had much time to celebrate the pregnancy though we had no trouble finding time to bump heads about it. We did thankfully establish I won’t be quitting my job. That topic was on the top of my list during our discussions. We agreed on having a nanny to help us, agreeing it would be best, with the crazy schedules we both work. When we told our family and friends they all seemed to spiral into unexpected joyful tangents. Our officia
l public announcement goes up first thing tomorrow morning, and Evie had a photographer come out to the manor early as fuck this morning to take “official photos” to help defend our “decision” to wait. It also makes Global Laundry look like an asshole for “spoiling” our special moment. Gotta say, Evie isn’t always my fucking favorite, but the woman handles her job like she was raised by Amazons. She deserves to be side by side with Wonder Woman. Though giving Evie a lasso of truth feels like a conflict of interest considering her chosen profession.

  “Brynley, Wes rented out this entire boutique for just the two of us today. If you won’t do it for me, then do it for your fiancé who spent so much of his hard-earned money to give you privacy.”

  Her parenting lecture puts an unwanted pep in my step.

  “I didn’t tell him to do that….” I mumble.

  “He did it because he’s thoughtful,” she hums his praises.

  Rather than argue, I simply roll my eyes and follow her into the store.

  The freshly polished, dark hard wood floors and the chrome decor create a chic impression. Along each of the gray painted walls are built in shelving used to display wedding dresses of various styles, while in the very back of the store there seems to be units of colorful gowns, most likely for the bridesmaids, though a colorful wedding dress has crossed my mind. In the center of the boutique there are two curved white couches facing one another and a coffee table to separate them.

  A stunningly gorgeous, black haired woman cheerfully states, “Hello! I’m Kristal, the owner of Weardeville. You must be Brynley and Lauren.”

  I admire her fit frame that’s covered in a sleeveless black dress with ruffles on one side, her dark brown eyes, and flawless tanned skin. The perfection she’s radiating causes me to deny, “We’re so not shopping here.”

  “Brynley!” My mother scolds.

  “Sorry. She’s way too fucking pretty to sell me something.”

  Kristal tries not to smile. “I appreciate the compliment-”

  “Really wasn’t the intention-”

  “However, please do not be mistaken, Miss Winters. All the focus will be on you. Mr. Wilcox rented out the entire shop to guarantee you get only the very best at all times.”

  Before I have the chance to rebut, another woman, who looks like a copy and pasted version of the one standing in front of me, strolls out. “What the fuck? Are you multiplying?”

  Kristal successfully snickers this time. “Identical twins.”

  “In identical dresses for shits and giggles?” I point to their outfits.

  “Black helps keep the focus on the bride and bridal party,” her twin informs. “I’m Kristine. I will be assisting my sister and when you’re ready to discuss bridesmaid’s dresses or mother of the bride dresses, I will take the lead.”

  An unexpected sadness drops down onto my shoulders.

  Bridesmaids? I don’t have any fucking friends that can be a bridesmaid? Vanessa? Maybe? Are we really that close? Someone you see for dinner every once in a while hardly seems like someone to invite to hold your dress while you pee. What about Callen? Can dudes be bridesmaids? Bridesman? How fucking hard would Wes object to that?

  “Why don’t we start with something to drink to help calm the nerves?” Kristal suggests. “Wine, champagne, coffee, or water?”

  “Champ-” the word instantly registers not to finish. “Coffee?”

  My mother clears her throat to catch my attention. She shakes her head slowly, and I roll my eyes once more.

  Ugh. Fucking being pregnant is like going on an unwanted diet.

  “So it’s not bad enough I can’t drink my favorite beer any more, I can’t have its day time equivalent?”

  “You’re allowed to have coffee in moderation and small amounts.”

  Another groan of complaint slips out, “First it ruins my wedding dress selection, now my drinking too?”

  “Excuse me,” one of the women speaks up.

  When I turn back around I meet eyes with both, unsure where to look.

  “You’re pregnant?” The one to the left asks.

  “Is that a problem? Don’t carry that selection?”

  The woman I believe to be Kristal smiles brightly. “We have a dedication here to help every woman regardless of her size, status, and financial situation, to find her dream dress. You have us at your complete disposal on this journey, and if you let us, we can help you find whatever it is that will make you feel as stunning as you are, even if you’ll be a few months pregnant.”

  Her speech relaxes my shoulders.

  “Kristine, why don’t you make a special run for the Winters? Would you two ladies like something different? Perhaps a smoothie? There is a little shop at the corner that makes an amazing low fat, peanut butter one.”

  “Yes.” My instant reply causes the room to fill with giggles. “Please.”

  “And for you, Mrs. Winters?” Kristine questions.

  “You can call us by our first names,” I quickly announce, unsure of the last time someone called my mother Mrs.

  I can’t imagine it upsetting her all these years later and while she’s happily involved with someone, but why risk it?

  Kristine nods. “And what would you like Lauren?”

  “I think I’ll have the same.” She offers me a smile and reaches for my hand, both actions to remind me I’m not alone in this.

  At least she and Wes know that’s the shore of worry I am sitting on. I’ve done the total, one hundred and ten percent, Destiny’s Child Independent Woman thing. Having a baby is not something I wanna add to that list. I wanna have my husband involved and his support. I wanna have my mom reassure me sore nipples will fade even if my future stretch marks won’t. I wanna have a secure foundation for this experience. For once in my life, I actually want help.

  Kristine says to her sister, “Looks like it’s a round of PB for everyone. I’ll be back shortly. I’ll have my phone.”

  We watch Kristine head towards the front door, slide a panel on the wall open, grab her clutch, and exit the store.

  Afterwards, Kristal ushers a hand towards the couches. “Why don’t we sit and have a small chat before we get to searching?”

  The three of us move the direction she suggested, and I poke, “Are you paid by the hour? Is that why you wanna talk instead of shop?”

  “Brynley,” Mom sternly snips under her breath.

  Kristal has a seat on the opposite couch from us. “My day has already been paid for. Mr. Wilcox booked the entire day, which has a base fee, followed by the potential for sales fee, both in place to prevent me from losing anything if you don’t find what you are looking for today.”

  “Makes sense.”

  “However, my concern isn’t with making a sale. And trust me, I know how much of a line that sounds like, but I really am more interested in helping you find something that makes you not only look stunning, but feel that way too. I’m not going to sit here and sell you a sixty-thousand- dollar dress just because I know your fiancé will pay for it. I’m going to put you in something that takes your breath away and allows you to feel like you’re floating in pure joy.”

  Another wave of relief runs through me.

  “And he told me to remind you he is paying for it no matter the size of the tantrum you throw or whatever threats you aim at me.”

  Loveable bastard.

  She grins sweetly. “Do you have any idea what you’re looking for?”

  “Not really.”

  “Would you like me to pull some ideas I think might suit you based on your shape, your growing shape, and your personality?”

  I quickly nod.

  “Alright then, you two sit here, talk, and get comfortable. I’m going to go grab my tablet, and we’ll discuss a few ideas momentarily.”

  Kristal dismisses herself from the room leaving me and my mother alone.

  As if she can hear my screaming concerns, she questions, “Have you asked Calen to be your….bridesman?”

  With a sarca
stic smirk, I shake my head.

  “There’s no harm in asking. Besides, I doubt he’ll say no.”

  “Wes’ head exploding seems to be like a major harm.”

  She lightly laughs. “He’ll cope. This day is about both of you.”

  “Between him, the wedding planner, and Evie’s annoying ‘do not’ reminders, it damn sure doesn’t feel that way. Fuck, if it were up to me, we wouldn’t wait until December. We’d get married ASAP.”

  “Is that so you can wear a dress you love as opposed to one you feel you just settled for?”