by Xavier Neal
“How many are there?”
“Nine.”
His eyes bulge. “From one pregnancy?”
“They can have up to like thirteen in one go,” I snicker and shove an apple slice in my mouth. “Plus, they get knocked up basically whenever they feel like it. They can store the sperm inside of them until they feel like it’s a good time to alternate their lives.”
Wes’ eyebrows pinch together, though I’m not sure if it’s in bafflement of the creature’s nifty trick or at the disdain emphasis I implied.
My mother’s words have been haunting me since last weekend. While I don’t think I’m pregnant I’m too much of a chicken shit to take the test just to double check. I will say I haven’t been drinking, which is raising J.T.’s suspicions, and have had constant waves of nausea once a day, though I haven’t been puking. No puking means no pregnancy.… At least that’s what I’m choosing to believe for a little while longer. The last thing I need right now is to take a stupid test, discover I’m knocked up, and have to have this big ass argument about going out of town for work. They need the extra hands on this one. It would almost be career suicide not to go. If I really am preggers, which again I highly doubt, I’ll still be preggers when I get home Sunday night after this trip. It’s not like I’m diving in or anything. I’ll be on deck. Everything will be fine. I can’t get hurt there.
The selfishness of my own thoughts is too bitter to ignore. I shove another sweet strawberry in my mouth in an effort to erase it.
“Just so you know, Jeffrey will be escorting the two of you this trip.”
It’s my turn to dart my eyebrows down.
“He’s been instructed to conduct a light follow.”
“Or he could just not come.”
Wes puts down his coffee cup. “Not an option.”
“Most definitely an option,” I argue.
“There have been information leaks that make me uncomfortable, Brynley. It’s about more than just the press getting wind to our personal schedules and making up bullshit stories about our unfaithfulness to one another. They’re aware of your whereabouts when you’re out of town. Which hotels to stalk you outside of. Which restaurants you’ll be eating at. Where you will be spending your downtime if there is any. Having Jeffrey accompanying is about safety.”
“You mean soothing your paranoia.”
I expect him to bite back yet he sighs, “I’m not doing this because I don’t trust you, baby. I’m doing this because I love you. Because I don’t trust the world not to try to harm you.”
A look of understanding covers my face.
He leans over and slowly wipes away the juice on the corner of my lip. “I promise Jeffrey will keep an appropriate distance.”
My tongue snakes out to taste his thumb. The immediate groan causes me to whisper, “How about you keep an inappropriate one?”
Wes growls and moves with celerity. With a quick tug of the hand I’m up on my feet, robe being yanked off. As soon I’m naked, his hands land on my hips and shift me onto the edge of the round table in front of where he was sitting. He lowers himself back into his chair and slowly slides his hands straight down my legs to my knees. There’s one sharp pull of them apart before the heat of his tongue drags itself across my clit.
I arch forward on a gasp of his name, “Wes!”
There’s a pleased grumble proceeded with a harsh sucking. My fingers anchor themselves to the back of his head, desperate to keep him in place. His tongue dips deeper and begins to devour my wetness like it’s an oblation. Each time his tongue pushes inside, my hips helplessly lift to ride the undulating motion. Wes’ grip on my knees tightens at the same time he buries his face completely between my trembling thighs. He increases the pressure. The speed. He scrapes his teeth just softly enough over my clit that it threatens to collapse my entire body backwards. I hastily grind against his movements vaulting with everything I have towards the climax eagerly waiting to be enjoyed. My whimpers and pleads for more are met with low grumbles that add just the right amount of vibration to push me over the edge.
I tighten my grip to hold him in place and come undone on a loud cry of his name, “Wes!”
His tongue wedges itself between the clamping of my muscles and continues its feats of erotic torture. Scorching wetness overwhelms his senses, yet the only thing he seems to be concerned with is swallowing every little drop. My head falls backwards while my eyes screw shut in an inability to breathe. Wes’ unrelenting efforts at tearing free another orgasm become too much, and I attempt to push him away. He barely budges.
My voice is practically air. “Wes, please….”
Finally, he detaches his face from my pussy to flash me a devious expression. “Do you mind? I was enjoying my breakfast.”
The jovial tone receives a wide, wicked smile. Unfortunately, the doorbell ringing wipes it away.
Wes instantly glowers. “He’s early.”
I snatch a cloth napkin off the table and wipe his face. “He’s on time.”
“He’s-”
Our lips meshing silences his attempt to continue the dispute. His tongue swiftly overpowers mine, the desire for additional claiming clear as day. Only when I whimper my surrender does he ease back.
“I’ll answer the door.”
Unable to overlook the easy opportunity to toy with him, I question, “You sure you don’t want me to greet him like this?”
He growls and possessively cages me against him. “Test me and you’re going to be late leaving….”
The sexy warning has me preparing to beg, but the doorbell interrupts again.
“Impatient.”
I plant a sweet, soft kiss on his lips. “It’ll only take me a couple minutes to get ready. Think you can make nice with Calen that long?”
He grunts but doesn’t bother elaborating.
After a quick change and grabbing of my travel bag, Wes walks the two of us downstairs to our parking garage to Calen’s car. He reminds me of our escort, kisses me needlessly hard, and wishes us safe travels.
The drive to the coast is primarily filled with work discussions. Calen reveals to me the employee gossip he unwillingly lends his ear to, as well as lets me in on a few tour mishaps that are worth a laugh. Eventually, the conversation hits the personal point, and I listen to yet another disastrous date story.
Calen, like J.T., is a total catch. He’s charming, he’s hardworking, and despite being occasionally vain, he’s pretty sweet. All the things most women who are not prone to the troubled situations, actually want in a boyfriend. Personality aside, he’s definitely a gene pool lottery winner with abs you could carve a Thanksgiving turkey on. From the stories he’s described and the ex-girlfriend tragedies I’ve heard, his biggest flaw is a fatal one. He becomes too clingy too fast. Calls too often in the beginning. Wants to introduce them to his friends or family too fast. Always first to suggest the next step and say I love you. He always dives head first into love, and I’m not sure the appropriate way to say, quit being such a chick.
Several accidents along the highway put us in town later than expected. Rather than check into our hotel like we had originally planned before heading to K&T, we head straight there, our tardiness understood, but not appreciated. We quickly change into the wet suits provided and join the rest of the team for the release.
The process of releasing animals from captivity into a new environment can be stressful and at times dangerous, but it is also fascinating. There are sets of divers who accompany the less threatening creatures and observe them, but for the others, the cages and nets have mechanisms that are remotely operated from the deck. From up top we can also safely watch their new aquatic adventure begin courtesy of the aquatic cameras installed towards the bottom of the boat.
Releasing a family of rays is almost a quarterly routine for K&T, but due to the litter being larger than the last two they’ve relocated, and recent unexpected rescues at the institute, we were asked to aid in the process. While Calen’s in the wate
r for extra assistance, I’m stationed on deck keeping watch on the screen. As much as I wish it was me in the ocean, I’m grateful it’s not. This possible pending pregnancy has me unreliable, which is the absolute last fucking thing anyone needs in an aquatic atmosphere. It would put us all at risk, animals included.
We watch the stingrays disperse on the monitor and give Jillian, Jacques, and Calen a moment to assess the area. Sometimes during a release procedure, other wounded creatures are found, and rescued. In a weird way, we’re almost like the Baywatch team for ocean species. I definitely look that sexy in my swimsuit. I mean not now, but on a regular basis. You can’t really save wildlife with your tits bouncing around.
All of a sudden, I spot something out of the corner of my eye. I dart my head left and notice a pair struggling with a net. Before I even have a chance to comment on it, Lance is on the radio asking about the ship’s clearance. The moment it’s announced it hasn’t been permitted to boat in the water, Lance alerts the divers and starts the interference protocols.
It only takes a few minutes for them to cross to the situation. Upon arrival, Jacques informs us that it appears to be an attempted finning expedition by the net. The information grinds my teeth at the same time Lance reports them to the proper authorities. Unexpectedly, the people on the boat are spooked and dump something overboard. They abruptly take off afterward barely giving the team time to dodge out of the way.
Once Lance has been reassured everyone is fine, he commands for their return, which is when Jacque informs, “They just dropped a fresh finned batch.”
My heart lurches into my throat. Fucking monsters.
“How many?”
“Looks like a small portion of a school. Mainly young.”
Bile boils, but I shove it down.
Lance’s eyes fall shut in frustration. “Any salvageable?”
“One.” The ache in my chest deepens. “We’ve got it secure.”
Just a few short minutes later, Lance and I are reaching over the side of the boat for the net it’s being held in. Together, we carefully tug it on board. The sight of the laceration where the young scalloped hammerhead just barely avoided losing its life returns sickness to the pit of my stomach.
Lance’s assessment is instant, and the only thing I can do is obey orders. “They’re cosmetic wounds. Let’s get him moved to the tank.”
Quickly, the two of us carry the net that contains the squirming shark to the opposite end of the boat where the small rescue tanks are kept for transports like this. On our rushed way, my foot slips from underneath me, and I sharply twist my body to keep the hold on the net. The pain is immediate, but I push through by swearing under my breath.
As soon as the young shark is in the tank he’s almost too long for, Lance questions, “You alright?”
I start to reply when the ache increases warning me not to lie. “I’ll….I’ll be fine.”
Calen’s concerned voice appears over my shoulder. “What happened?”
Turning to face him, I quietly confess, “Lost my balance.”
His mask free face frowns. “We’re getting it looked at the minute we hit the shore.”
Lance leaves the two of us to continue the conversation and to instruct Tonie to start the ship.
“Don’t be over dramatic. I’m sure I’m fine.”
“Yeah, well, I’d rather actually be sure you’re fine.”
The lack of teasing in his voice causes me to roll my eyes. I attempt to storm past him in a defiant manner when the pressure on my ankle falters my step at the same time the boat rocks. The combined unevenness unexpectedly tips my body forward, and I land face first on the wet deck.
“Bryn!” Calen’s shrieks almost sound far away. “We need the med kit!”
I groan through the new throbbing in my skull and shift myself slightly upward. “I’m fine….”
His hand lands under my chin as his green eyes bore into mine. “You are not fine, Brynley.”
Okay, maybe not now that I’ve hit my head, but I’m sure I’ll be alright. These are merely cosmetic wounds, just like our new baby shark’s.
The idea of having a new creature to love and tend to distracts me from the discomfort coursing through my veins.
It’s days like this I absolutely fucking love what I do. Not only did we release new creatures back where they belonged, we rescued one before its life was ended too soon. Even if the damage to me is slightly more severe than it is to the shark, it was beyond worth it. Saving one defenseless ocean creature is worth a bit of minor pain and so much more.
“A concussion?!” Wes shouts on speaker phone.
“Possibly,” I correct from where I’m lying in the hospital bed.
There’s an explosive roar from his end of the phone, which is when Calen holds my device far away from himself.
“We hope to have more answers soon,” Calen states while I begin to shut my eyes. Immediately he snaps his fingers in front of me. “Nope. No. Keep those eyes open, Bryn. You heard what the doctor said. We need you awake.”
“Fuck Dr. Dork and his Screech stunt double looking face.” Groaning, I turn my head to the side and attempt to close my eyes again. “I’m tired….”
“Yeah, that’s a symptom,” Calen tries to comfort between finger snaps.
“That sounds like more than a fucking possibility, Brynley!”
“Stop yelling before I make Calen hang up on you!”
“He wouldn’t!” Wes argues.
“He would!”
“Wouldn’t!”
“Would!”
“How about we don’t put me in the middle of this relationship spat?” Calen finally interjects. “Look, Wes, I gotta help keep Bryn conscious, so I suggest you wrap up eating caviar at the Billionaire Boys Club or whatever the fuck it is you do and meet us at Tellman Medical Center. She’s in room 308.”
Wes’ growl is a combination of territorial and rage. “I will be there soon.”
Calen clicks off the phone and shoots me a puzzling look. “Does he have a plane?”
“Three.” I answer on a hum. “Two private. One corporate. Oh! And a helicopter.”
He shakes his head slowly. “Guess we really will see him shortly.”
A shrug escapes. “I don’t know about that. He doesn’t fly.”
“He doesn’t fly?”
“No.”
“At all?”
“Never.”
“Then how-”
“Too many questions,” I mutter out and give my head a small rub.
Calen chuckles, drops down into the waiting chair next to me, and states, “Having you think will help keep you awake until the doctor comes back.”
My face scrunches in irritation, and my eyes settle on his movements. After putting my phone on the table beside the bed, he relocates his tablet to his lap, where he appears to be scanning something.
“What are you reading?”
He lets out a heavy sigh, “An email from Raquel.”
“About?”
Calen hesitates to answer. “Steven.”
The mention of my favorite companion’s name wakes me right up. “What about him?”
There’s another reluctance to reply. “It’s official. They’re moving him to K&T for breeding in a few weeks.”
A new-found pain pumps through my system as I hit the back of my head harshly on the pillow. “Not. Surprised.”
“It’s what’s best for him, Bryn.”
Quietly, I agree, “I know.”
“She wants me to call her. Report on the release today.” When I don’t move my face to look at him he tempts, “Should I ask her about convincing K&T to let us have the little guy we rescued?”
My face slowly turns, smile expanding. “Uhhhh….Yeah!”
Calen laughs, pulls out his cell phone, and prepares to dial.
“Miss Winters,” the doctor’s voice invades the room.
I command my attention to settle on the scrawny figure whose name I can’t recall.
Ugh. A concussion? Really? Not what I needed in my life.
“Do you remember my name?” He ponders as if trying to slyly test my brain function.
“It’s probably not Doogie Houser, huh?”
Calen laughs louder than intended by the way his face brightens. Promptly, my friend announces, “I’m gonna step out into the hall. Give Raquel a call. Holler if you need me.”
