33. Jasper
THIRTY-THREE
JASPER
It’s not even close to the craziest thing I’ve heard her say, so when Carter triumphantly declares she wants to attend her own fucking wedding, I absolutely roll with it.
There’s a glint of mischief in her eyes, something that hasn’t been present since we rescued her, but our time together has reignited the beast, and she’s ready to jump back into the fire, with us right beside her.
“Now you’re the one who can’t be serious, Carter. What the hell are you thinking?” Tyson asks, but rather than interject, I let Carter explain her train of thought, the plans of destruction sounding much sweeter coming from her lips.
“He said it himself, he wants to see me at the wedding. My father is many things, but he’s also dying.
He can’t bop around like he once could, but he wants all the fucking power, so in eight days, four hours, and about twelve minutes …
I know exactly where he’ll be.” She ends her argument with a beaming smile, like she’s cracked the deepest code, but in all honesty, she’s finally feeling powerful again, the ideas of blood and violence invigorating her like nothing else can.
Carter may have temporarily felt useless, like a discarded soldier with minimal amounts of hope, but over the course of the last couple days, she’s been slowly thawing, coming back to life just enough for the final transformation to occur right before our eyes.
“Your wish is my command, my little bride,” I say in response, programming our GPS to the next safe house, knowing that we have a few hours until we arrive, but the road is wide open, and I don’t anticipate any further firefights along the way.
We have a million things to go over, a logistical nightmare as we continue East, but eventually, we’ll have to return West, cross the border once again, and eat up the miles we already conquered.
At first, Tyson’s plan seemed feasible, like we could accomplish anything as long as we had checkpoints, safety nets, and an hours-long head start, but that naive thinking is what got Carter shot in the middle of a deserted highway.
As much as I admire Tyson for having faith before I did, planning this escape down to the letter, it’s time to change gears, and although my harsh declaration was met with resistance, ultimately, we all made the right choice.
“I’d rather die than be that man’s bride. White is not my fucking color,” Carter jokes, smirking from the cocoon she built in Tyson’s arms, and I can’t help but smile, knowing my little devil could make any shade in the color wheel bow down to her beauty.
“You’ll make a beautiful bride, baby girl. I’ll take you to a million dress shops until you find your dream gown,” Tyson proposes, and she melts even further into him, a smile bigger than the universe painted on her face.
“Black?” She muses, a color typically reserved for somber occasions, but it wouldn’t be authentic to Carter if it weren’t the funeral shade.
“I’d expect nothing less, my little grim reaper fairy princess,” I interject, knowing that in my rolodex of nicknames reserved for the creature who deserves a trillion ways to be showered with love, that one is at the top of her favorites list.
“I’m not kidding, you know. I may not have dreamed about my wedding day as a little girl, but there’s nothing I want more than to meet the two of you at the end of an altar.
Even if we have to kidnap a fucking priest,” she says matter-of-factly, the sternness in her voice attempting to be taken seriously, but I’ve never doubted what’s reserved in her heart for not only myself, but Tyson, too.
“Kidnapping a priest sounds like the perfect foreplay, Principessina,” I tease, meeting her gaze in the mirror, and I’d recognize her flared cheeks and shifty eyes anywhere, the mere idea of behaving outside the lines igniting a fire in her bones.
“You two are going to spend eternity driving me fucking crazy, aren’t you?
We can’t kidnap a fucking priest!” Tyson joins in the madness, playing Angel to our devilish games, but we wouldn’t expect him to be any other way, filling his place and balancing out the twisted shit that lives in our minds.
“Why the fuck not? It’s not like they’ll deny our access to Hell for such a villainous act,” she snarks, earning herself a harsh spanking from Ty, and I can feel the strain in my jeans, hating the fact that I’m driving, and the sounds of ecstasy rolling off her lips aren’t of my doing, or participation.
“You two better not start fucking around back there, I’ll drive with my feet if I have to,” I warn as if I’m yelling at two little kids in the backseat, threatening to turn this damn car right around, a stark contrast to how Carter and I usually fall into mischief together, with Tyson normally taking on the role as the clear-minded adult.
Carter’s sweet giggles fill the silence, both of them ignoring me as she crawls up his chest, tangling her tongue with his, and while his hands roam along her curves, she drags her hips along his crotch in deliciously slow thrusts, my eyes glued to the mirror as I watch them devour each other like horny teenagers.
This is nothing but a losing battle, but I’ll be damned if I don’t step on the gas a little harder, driving this fucking car as if it were on fire, except my desire is the only thing burning, the urge overwhelming to get my hands on the little temptress in the backseat.
If I thought this was a game before, she sits up ever so slightly while Tyson drags his tongue along her collarbone, a devilish smirk on her face like she knows I’m watching them, but when her eyes meet mine, all I get is a quick wink before she returns her attention to him, furthering this war she’s conjured.
Little does she know, I’d lose a thousand battles just to witness as she writhes in pleasure, screams out in euphoria, or cries from the new heights she conquers, and the only one who wins each time we play is her.