Total pages in book: 69
Estimated words: 69129 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 346(@200wpm)___ 277(@250wpm)___ 230(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69129 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 346(@200wpm)___ 277(@250wpm)___ 230(@300wpm)
Billionaire Weston Wilcox is possessive.
Protective.
Parenting and partnering to the best of his abilities.
However, without warning, the prominent public figure finds his wife and son at the center of violent attacks by a mysterious threat.
Due to the individual's unknown identity along with the love of his life's new medical condition, he's forced to reassess everything and everyone close to them.
And while Weston isn't afraid to use any of his vast resources during his hunt for answers, he's also prepared for the final reckoning to be quite personal.
*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************
Chapter 1
Wes
There are several notable things I love about my downtown office here in Highland.
The first being its location.
This is the perfect point between our penthouse, Brynley’s job at The Bower and Powell Institute, and the private academy that our two and half year-old son, Wyland Wayne Wilcox, attends.
Next?
The view.
Awe-inspiring is an undersell.
Having the ability to randomly take a moment to admire the remarkable architecture that creates our city is most certainly a pro for being in the building rather than a con.
And most importantly?
Impeccable privacy due to the soundproofing I had installed during our honeymoon.
I can have my wife under my desk or over my desk or on my couch, moaning and groaning and screaming like she’s Harvey Dent, having half her face burned off by acid.
Interestingly enough, Little Prey is still quite vocal despite having a son with Superhero level hearing.
I swear the kid can hear the second my zipper lowers from across the fucking property in one of the guesthouses we sneak away to for a little “alone time” while he’s with his grandparents.
Hamilton believes I’m exaggerating; however, he did his job and provided me with the best otolaryngologists in our area to further investigate if necessary.
Which I just may.
My family’s health is not a subject matter I take lightly.
It’s not one I’ve ever taken lightly.
It’s not one to ever be taken lightly.
Especially when it comes to my son.
“We’re feeling very optimistic about our final quarter of the fiscal year,” Winston Bofshever, our new head of social media marketing for our beer brands, states into my earpiece at the same time Bryn’s fingertips relocate themselves to my belt buckle. “Between the influencer data reports and Shaw’s proposed strategies for expanding into our weaker demographics, the fifteen-point plan we’ve put together for the Morgan Brand as well as Runt’s Beer hold remarkable potential.” Her manicured fingers nimbly undo the tiny blockade while her eyes flash their infamous mischievousness. “Did you have questions or feedback regarding the influencer reports, sir?”
“No.” I instantly repeat the single word to my brightly beaming wife in a mouthing nature. “No.”
The sarcastic head tilt I’m instantly given causes me to smirk.
Fine.
I do want her lips wrapped around my cock.
I always want her lips wrapped around my cock.
I’d have to be having other…uncomfortable health conversations with Hamilton and Sawyer and Yang if I didn’t want them there.
I always want this woman.
Even at times when I probably shouldn’t.
Like during Wy’s first trip to the dentist or ten minutes post a conference call with HR about too much sex occurring in the workplace.
I understand I’m exempt from such rules.
That as the man whose name is literally on the building, their paychecks, and investment options, I am in several ways immune from them.
However, I should probably refrain from flaunting it.
Especially by having the love of my life blow me during my very next business conversation.
“Do you have any questions or feedback regarding what we have successfully identified as our weaker demographics?” Bofshever inquires while I watch Bryn disregard my wordless objections and slide down onto her knees between my legs. “Perhaps a preference on how they’re sorted going forward, whether it be business or recreational, rural or metropolitan, or even something less traditional such as similar social media accounts that they follow, which can also be sub sectioned into numerous categories.”
I’m sure it can.
Just like I’m sure she’s going to be sucking my dick no matter how many times I shake my head.
“I…” is all that manages to escape due to her warm palm firmly wrapping around my shaft. “I…” The sight of her tongue snaking past her lips so close to my cock is enough on its own to warrant me ending the conversation; however, it’s the long, lascivious lick to lap up the drop of precum falling that has me lifting my fingers to tap the side of my earpiece. “I have to go.”
“Excuse me, sir?”
“An emergency just…” Bryn sloppily drags the head of my dick around her lips as if it’s stripper lipstick. “…fell into my lap.”
“Oh no,” croaks Bofshever, clearly concerned. “Is it something with the company? The reports? Your assistant? Mr. Reese? Your family?”
My wife teases the slit with the very tip of her tongue forcing me to grumble through gritted teeth. “The latter.”
“That’s terrible!”
It’s actually going to be incredible when she stops toying with me.
“I completely understand.”
He doesn’t.
“I’ll let you go-” barely manages to leave his mouth before I push the button severing the call.
I don’t leave a moment for her to victoriously smile or verbally gloat.
No.
I simply bury my fingertips in her thick, wavy locks and drive my dick to the darkest depths it can possibly reach. The invasion is immediately greeted by harsh constrictions, yet I don’t pull back.
I don’t pull away.
I merely latch on tighter at the same time I growl, “Swallow, Little Prey.”