Epilogue
Tripp
The white and pink flowers surrounding me are Quinn’s doing, but the arch that holds them in place is mine—built with my own two hands.
Rows of chairs line the backyard, twinkle lights strung above, and a huge white tent with tables dressed in centerpieces—that’s all the wedding planner and Janine Dawson.
My palms are sweaty, but it’s a beautiful day—the perfect day for an outdoor wedding. The photographer snaps pictures as I wait. We wanted my first look of Quinn in her dress to be private, just me and her—well, and the photographer, I guess.
Nerves buzz through me, making me bounce on the balls of my feet in anticipation. It feels like I've waited a lifetime for this moment.
And then, she comes around the corner and I’m frozen in place, my breath stalling as I stare at the love of my life dressed in white.
The lace clings to her curves, flaring at the bottom. Her hair’s pinned up in an intricate braid, soft curls threaded with pearls. Standing in place is nearly impossible.
I want to run to her, gather her in my arms, and crush my lips to hers. But Nina, the photographer, gave me strict instructions to stay put and let Quinn come to me.
Tears fill my eyes, and my hands clench and release, aching to feel her.
She’s beautiful. She always is—whether she’s in her scrubs for work or all dolled up.
But this?
Christ, I didn’t know anyone could be so perfect.
After what feels like hours, she reaches the arch of flowers. I lift my hand and cup her face. She smiles, closing her eyes in contentment.
“You’re the most beautiful creature I’ve ever seen,” I whisper, resting my forehead on hers.
I tune out the sound of the camera clicking furiously, basking in this moment with the woman who was always the one meant for me.
Her grin widens. “Don’t make me cry. It’ll ruin my makeup.”
I let out a soft chuckle, already dissolving into joyous tears. She brushes at my wet cheeks.
“Sorry, honey. I’ll try to get it together.” My voice comes out a croak that makes her laugh—soft and steady, like home.
I pull her tight against me. She fits perfectly, like she was always meant to be right here.
We stay like that for a few beautiful moments until Nina starts giving orders again.
“Whisper something in her ear,” she commands. “Make her laugh again.”
I lean down, lips brushing her ear. “Think we can sneak off? You look so damn pretty in that dress. All I can picture is it bunched around your hips while I’m buried inside you.”
She lets out a startled laugh, then melts against me with a breathless, “Please.”
My lips ghost over her neck, and I inhale her scent, floral and soft and fucking mine.
“Oh, that’s so good, you two,” Nina squeals from the ground where she’s kneeling.
Pictures drag on far too long, and by the time Nina finally has everything she wants, we’re only thirty minutes from the ceremony. The plan was that the women would be inside and the men out near the tent. But I’ll be damned if I let Quinn out of my sight.
When she starts toward the house, I catch her wrist. She gives me a look—half question, half warning. I pull her close and murmur, “Meet me in our bedroom.”
Her brows lift higher, but I just wink and take off at a jog, slipping into the house through the garage before anyone can stop me.
Guests are starting to arrive, and I give Brooks and his daughter a brief wave as he snags a bottle of milk from my fridge before I sprint up the stairs.
I slip off my gray tux jacket and hang it up so it doesn’t wrinkle. Quinn better not keep me waiting long or she’s gonna be late walking down the aisle.
I’m jittery, a mixture of nerves and anticipation buzzing through me like a hive of bees. I’m wound up too tight. I need Quinn here to ground me, to anchor me in the way only she can.
The bedroom door clicks open, and she glides inside, a vision in white.
“I had to tell Marlowe I had a nervous stomach and to let me use the bathroom up here in peace to get her to let me out of her sight.”
“Thank fuck,” I say, closing the distance between us in two strides. “I’m not sure her following you in here would have stopped me today.”
She giggles. “God, I love you.”
I smirk. “I love you too. Now, let your husband fuck you in this dress, hm?”
“I like the sound of that.”
So do I. More than anything.
I lead her to the accent chair that’s pushed against the wall—one that Allie convinced me to buy when she was helping me decorate the place. The back is curved, and there’s an antique standing mirror to the right of it. It’s the perfect stage for what I want.
“You ready to be mine, Quinnie?”
Her eyes meet mine. “I’ve always been yours.”
My thumb catches on the vintage gold marquise ring I’d found to go with the wedding band I would give her—the same band my dad had given my mom on their wedding day. Using his band as ours had been my way of making him a part of the ceremony.
The smile I give her feels permanently etched on my face now. I haven’t been able to stop since the moment I slid that grass ring on her finger.
She lifts our joined hands and presses a kiss to my palm. The simple touch unravels me all over again—love, awe, need.
“On your knees on the chair, honey.” I slowly ease the fabric of her dress up her thighs, hoping it doesn’t wrinkle too much. There are way too many buttons on this thing for me to take it off.
She does as I ask, leaning over the curved back of the chair as I relieve myself from the confines of my slacks. My fingers slide between her legs.
“No panties on your wedding day?” I click my tongue at her. “Filthy girl.”
She smirks at me over her shoulder. “You know how I feel about undergarments.”
I bunch up the fabric of her dress and hitch it up above her ass, so I can see the jeweled plug I put in this morning still in place. The gem is her something blue, and I’m insanely gratified that she’s kept it in.
I let my finger graze briefly over it. “How does it feel?”
She groans softly. “It makes me desperate to have you inside me.”
“Good,” I say, gripping her hip with one hand while I notch myself at her entrance with my other.
Her back is arched, ass up, jeweled plug sparkling as the sun hits it through the window. She’s already dripping, and I can’t wait to devour her later tonight, to taste every inch of her. Her legs shake as she tilts her hips higher, wanting me to fill her up.
I slide my cock through the slickness between her thighs, spreading a mixture of her arousal and my pre-cum over her clit. She’s wound up now too, and I’m eager to give her the release her body’s begging me for.
“You want me to feed my cock into your wet pussy, Quinnie?”
“Yes,” she gasps. “Please. Hurry.”
I chuckle. God forbid we’re late for our own wedding.
“Later, when I can take my time with you, I’m gonna pour champagne on those tits and lick it off. What do you think of that?”
“Oh God,” she rocks back, chasing my cock. “Yeah. I want that.”
I wrap my arm around her waist and ease into her in one smooth thrust. She nearly cries out but bites her lip at the last second.
“Everyone’s waiting for us downstairs, but I don’t think I give a fuck. I could fuck you like this all night, wedding guests be damned.”
“Tripp.” Her voice is a warning, a reminder we don’t have all night. "Please."
I catch movement and glance to my right. The image of me fucking my wife is reflected in the antique standing mirror. Her eyes find mine in our reflection and, Christ, I’ve never seen anything so beautiful in my life.
“Are you watching us?” I chuckle darkly, a mixture of insanely turned on and somehow still a little surprised by how unapologetically she’s watching me move inside her.
Her cheeks go pink, but she holds my gaze as she nods.
Fuck, I love this woman.
“Do you see how beautiful you are when you're wrapped around me like this? How fucking perfect you look when you’re squeezing my cock and begging me to make you come?”
My thumb finds her clit, and I draw slow, lazy circles over it as I rock into her again and again.
Her soft chants of oh God and yes and right there and don’t stop are almost my undoing as I watch my cock slide in and out of her.
“Goddamn. I can’t take my eyes off of us together like this.”
“I know,” she gasps between strokes. “Neither can I.”
“I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life fucking you.”
Her laugh cuts off in a sharp gasp when I pinch her clit, and then she’s pulsing around me, dragging my release out of me. I spill inside her, dizzy and completely undone.
Quinn rises from the chair—breathless and glowing—as she pushes against my chest. "We're going to be late to our own wedding."
"Totally worth it," I murmur, gaze locked on my release dripping down her thighs as she stands.
She swats me, trying to hide a blush that only makes me hard again.
“Come on,” she whispers, cheeks pink and eyes shining. “You can stare all you want after I say I do.”
And when she walks down the aisle, minutes later, with the evidence of what we just did still glistening on her skin, I’m ecstatic that she’s finally mine.
Forever.
Just like she was always meant to be.
The End