epilogue
Wren
A knock sounds at the door, and I look over myself in the mirror before I answer. My hair is in big barrel waves and my makeup is demure and classic. I tighten the belt of the white satin dressing robe before opening the door just a crack.
“Hey, how are your nerves now? Do you need a cocktail or a mimosa?” Cassie, the wedding planner, asks. She’s wearing a gray pantsuit and is accompanied by one Crow and a Sparrow.
“I’m fine, thank you,” I reply through the crack in the door.
“Okay, well, just ask if you need anything. Have you heard from Colton? His mom is looking for him and he needs to get dressed,” Cassie says and uses a stylus to check something off on her tablet.
“I don’t know, but I need a bit more time for quiet contemplation,” I say with what I hope is a shy expression.
“Don’t worry, you still have thirty minutes until we come and get you in your dress.”
“Thank you.”
“The rest of today is going to be loud and busy. Get in all the quiet time you can before it’s time to walk you down the aisle,” she says encouragingly before giving a little wave.
I close the door and lock it after I hear three sets of feet head back down the hall. Earlier, I had been nervous. That part is true. I am very excited to be marrying Colton, but also nervous to be the center of so much attention. Cassie is the best wedding planner out of all the ones we met with over the past year, and she suggested a few moments of quiet time. Prayer. Meditation. A half of a Xanax. Anything to center me before I got into my wedding dress.
I, however, know only one thing could bring me peace today.
And that thing is currently naked, bound, gagged, and blindfolded on the floor of the bridal suite of our wedding venue.
“You’re needed in the groom’s suite to get dressed,” I tell him as I approach him from behind. I check his blindfold. It’s bad luck to see the bride before the wedding, after all.
He grunts through the cotton of his own boxer briefs currently shoved in his mouth.
“I’m not done with you yet,” I say and move to be in front of him. He’s kneeling on a throw pillow from the ornate chaise lounge, and his body is trembling from the edging I’d been putting him through before our interruption.
Sweat slides down his chest and in the abdominal muscle ridges that keep appearing and disappearing with each heaving breath. His arms are bound behind him and his shoulders roll with effort.
“Are you ready to come for me?” I whisper in his ear.
He hums an affirmative sound.
I slide the silky dressing robe fabric over his face and shoulders as I take it off. “I want you to paint my skin with your come. I want to put on my dress and walk down that aisle to you with you all over my skin.”
He moans as I wrap my hand around him again. It takes less than five strokes to get him to suck in a sharp breath and shudder out his release. He groans, low and long, as his come sprays over my chest and stomach. I catch the drips of it before it reaches my lace panties and rub it into my skin.
“I’m rubbing it in,” I narrate to him. “Now, I want you to lie back and let me return the favor.”
I untie him quickly so he can lie back on the floor, his head now resting on that throw pillow. I bring his right hand up to my pussy as I straddle his abdomen. The angle is awkward and unnatural, so he adjusts us quickly and uses one hand on my clit and the other fucking into me.
I squeal and he smiles around the cotton gag. His hums around the black fabric are encouraging sounds. I didn’t know someone could hum praises, but he sure can. It’s not long before I’m coming. Coming hard after edging him for at least twenty minutes. I was so turned on by his sounds and the sight of him at my mercy that it took very little stimulation to get me painting his chest.
As I come down, he smacks at my pussy with a deep chuckle, making more of a mess. I rub my come into his chest in the same way I’d done his. He sighs contentedly. Gently, I pull his underwear out of his mouth, and he stretches his jaw a few times before he smiles at me, still blindfolded.
“Ready to go put on your tux?” I ask and kiss him.
“So ready,” he rasps, and runs his hands up and down my thighs, still spread around his hips.
“I can’t wait to marry you,” I say with one more kiss before I get off of him.
“Well, let me go get dressed and we can get going,” he says in a bratty tone.
I spank his ass as he stands up. He yelps and then laughs.
“Thank you,” I breathe as I hand him his clothes.
“Princess, I knew you were going to need me before the ceremony. Why do you think I had a blindfold in the first place?” he chuckles as he dresses, said blindfold still in place.
I hadn’t even thought of that. I was just so eager to see him after I texted him about feeling anxious. Seeing him, albeit blindfolded, at the door to the bridal suite was a balm to my spiky nerves.
“Oh,” I say.
He chuckles and turns to reach for me. His hands clasp my bare shoulders, and he walks his grip up to my chin. He leans down and kisses me slowly. “Let’s go get married.”
****
I can’t see him yet, but I know he’s there. My arm is looped through Dad’s and I can’t tell who is shaking more while we wait for the wedding planner to cue our walk.
Limited media has been allowed inside the venue, but none are in the vestibule with us now. It has been more than a year since my reveal to the world, and the public unveiling of the culprits of the leak, but I continue to be a person of interest in tabloids and fashion magazines. While nothing negative has been printed since Dad threatened Maxwell and Grey with the ruin of their families’ businesses if they spoke about me again, the world maintains a watchful and interested eye. My exposure to the world was done because of the fragile egos of weak men, but my relevancy is maintained because of my uplifting contributions to public service, my unwitting fashion influence, my shenanigans with Gemma, and of course the anticipation of my wedding to my bodyguard.
“Take deep breaths,” Dad hisses to me.
“You take deep breaths,” I snap back.
“We sound like we ran here.” He tugs at his tie.
“Should we run out of here?” I ask.
“What? We’re running?” Dad says, fear in his voice as he tugs me toward the exit behind us.
Two Crows stare at us with horrified expressions, but I tug Dad back to the chapel doors with a laugh. “Thanks for being my ride or die, but I really want to do this.”
Cassie looks at us, amused, as she listens to the music in the chapel. The procession is scheduled to be long, despite the low number of people in the bridal party. Accommodating Marjorie’s new cane after a recent fall added a good three minutes to the processional. She is one of my bridesmaids and Frank is one of the groomsmen. Their walk down to the altar is the slowest, but it gives ample time for guests to enjoy the skilled quartet orchestra. Next is Colton’s friend Matt, accompanying Mrs. Stewart, who also needs a few extra moments to make it down the aisle. Then, Gemma with Lance. Our maid of honor and best man. Gemma was a shoe in and would have been mortally offended if she wasn’t my maid of honor. Lance was shocked at being asked to be best man, but he was honored to take part.
At first, I felt left out and embarrassed at not having a large bridal party. Really, my first thought was only Gemma. But then I realized that while my friendships are not conventional, I still have people I value, love, and trust the way anyone can hope for with a friend. Then, the decisions for my bridal party became a lot easier.
There’s a flower girl and ring bearer wrapped in one bird shaped package. We spent months practicing what she needed to do, and Angelica is ready. Cassie takes a vintage looking golden cage from a Crow and opens it at the chapel door.
Angelica gives an excited squawk and flies from the cage with a flutter of her wings.
“If she flies away, you’re without wedding bands,” Dad mutters as we watch her fly down the aisle. Everyone claps for Angelica.
“Don’t be silly, Lance has the real rings,” I whisper back as Cassie holds up her hand and silently counts down from five for me and Dad.
The music changes, and Cassie gestures for us to walk. This is it. I’m walking down the aisle, about to marry the man of my dreams. Dad walks before I do and encourages me along with a little tug. The walk is long down the aisle of the large chapel, and I try to keep my eyes focused on Colton up at the altar.
The veil I’m wearing covers my face and obstructs my view so I focus mostly on what I assume to be Colton’s shape. I should have practiced walking with tears in my eyes and a lace veil over my face, because if it weren’t for Dad’s guiding arm, I think I would accidentally keep walking.
Dad and Colton shake hands, and I hear the rumble of their voices before I feel Dad leave to go to his seat. Colton chuckles, and his voice now echoes throughout the chapel as we face each other. I tuck my lips into my mouth to contain my giggle. Colton lifts my veil, and his handsome, smiling face is clear. His expression is amused but obviously saying, “Really?”
“I thought about a white balaclava, but it would have smudged my makeup,” I say, forgetting I am also now wearing a live microphone.
The guests in the chapel break out into laughter. Most in attendance are Crows, Sparrows, and people who have been in our lives long enough to know about the masked staff. My joke about the veil didn’t escape anyone.
Our carefully selected officiant talks, but I can’t hear him. Staring up into the electric blue eyes of the man I love has me feeling overwhelmed. This is the face I loved before I even knew, the eyes I saw the world with first, the man who both protected and submitted to me. The man who wasn’t scared off by an insecure and hurting woman. The man who stepped up in every way I needed and also kneeled at my feet when it mattered. The man that gardened with me, birdwatched with me, and ate every single thing I baked. The man I’d be with for the rest of my life.