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My tongue slips teasingly inside and like I hoped, his instinctively strikes to capture it, momentarily forgetting that we’re not alone.
That someone else he has not pre-approved may see a glimpse of his face.
His scars.
Attempting to pull back sparks displeased grumbles, yet it’s the light toying of just the tip of my tongue against his that receives darker growls.
Has him winding one hand possessively around the nape of my neck to enjoy what’s his.
What I can’t help but feel like will always be his.
“Um…excuse me?” Heidi meekly interrupts, successfully separating us, forcing Wes to turn his head in order to fix his mask. “Hate to mate block…” she pokes in a punish fashion, “but we really need to get started. It’s important for target feeding to stay on the schedule.”
“Yes!” I deliver one more kiss to his now covered cheek, grab a pair of gloves, and close the gap between us. “I’m all ears.”
Heidi begins the basic explaining of what target feeding trains aquatic life to do, how the different color poles are used for the different creatures, and the significant difference it makes in ensuring all living beings are getting enough to eat – especially smaller animals like pup sharks – which ultimately prevents them from turning wrong fish into food.
Her pole movement summons over a young hammerhead that excites me so much I can barely swallow my squeaks. My instructor motions her head for me to grab a handful of the food reward, and the instant I release it into the water, the small creature eagerly gobbles it up, flooding my system with additional excitement and gratitude alike.
This is by far the best gift anyone’s ever gotten me.
And Weston Wilcox is by far the best man a woman could ever ask for.
Chapter 21
Wes
I love falling asleep with Bryn beside me.
However, I love waking up to her on top of me a tad more.
My girlfriend’s lush lips brush the shell of my ear at the same time she spins her lower half in a slow circle to stir my cock. “Good morning, Mr. Wilcox.”
The tiniest lick of my lobe leads to me growling my retort, “Morning, little prey…” She happily hums as I glide my palms up the side of her bare thighs towards her ass. “Serving me breakfast in bed again?” Her girlish giggles instantly transpose into needy whimpers when my fingers flex into her cheeks. “How thoughtful.”
“I am thoughtful…” Feeling her literally grow wetter gathers more groans and tightens my grasp. “So thoughtful.”
She is.
Yes, because she bought me the shark shirt I’m going to wear home this morning.
And yes, because she bought me a new shark pen to sign paperwork with.
But more importantly because she’s let me pick the speed of this relationship.
When we go out in public.
Where we go.
How long we stay.
Who we interact with.
She never pressures me to be a “normal” boyfriend that wines and dines her at the hottest spots where we can have our photos taken or end up on someone’s bullshit blog or possibly run into an actress or athlete.
No.
Bryn let’s me do what I feel comfortable doing while occasionally pushing the limits knowing it’ll do me some good.
