"That was about damn time is what that was."
"You approve of that? Them hooking up?"
"Wholeheartedly."
"Well, I don't think I do. He hurt her. Badly. I'm team Danika on this one."
I sighed. "He did. But people change. He won't hurt her like that again. I'm certain of it."
"So you're team Tristan, then?"
I pulled her against me in the dark, finding and kissing the tip of her nose. And copping a feel. "I'm team happily ever after, love. And as impossible as it seems now, those two won't be happy with anyone but each other."
She made a disbelieving noise. "I think you're wrong."
"Well, only time will tell."
"I think we should stop them. Danika will regret that later."
I started walking, tugging her with me. "I think not. We're not interfering."
"That's not what you said when Tristan rigged the seating in his favor. You were all for interfering then."
I smiled in the dark, and knew she could hear it in my voice when I spoke. "Team happily ever after, love."
I snagged an arm around her waist and started tugging her again.
I found the hidden lantern, lit it, and headed into the woods, away from the house and the reception. There was no trail, but I knew the way.
We walked for about five minutes in silence before we came to a clearing. The sound of a nearby creek and our progress through the brush was the only noise that accompanied us.
"Stay there," I told her, and lit four torches I'd driven into the ground earlier.
The clearing was small, surrounded by a tight circle of trees. I'd chosen the area because it was secluded, and one of the trees had branches that were just the right height and strength for what I planned.
Everything was already laid out: Spreader bar with white leather ankle cuffs, an armbinder that had been designed to match her wedding dress, a white riding crop.
I grabbed the armbinder. It was a conical, single glove sheath that hugged her arms from her fingertips to just above her elbows.
I tugged her to stand under a strong low-hanging branch, pulled her arms behind her back, and began to bind them tightly together.
"You planned this out rather meticulously," she pointed out breathlessly.
I smiled down at her, a wry twist of my mouth. "Are you surprised?"
She laughed, a joyful sound. "I shouldn't be."
"While you were off getting hair and makeup done for the wedding, I was planning bondage and debauchery in the woods."
She let out another happy laugh. It rang out loudly.
I pulled her arms up high behind, and strung her from the tree with a strict strappado—a position that stretched her into helplessness.
I pushed the riding crop into her mouth, making her bite down on it, and left it there. It was not meant for spanking, not tonight. Tonight it had other uses.
A dark, heavy anticipation pumped through my body, making me throb.
I circled her.
I kneeled behind her, getting under her long skirt, spreader bar at the ready. I softly kissed the back of each lithe stocking-covered leg, then swiftly strapped and buckled her ankles into the contraption, spreading her legs far apart to do so.
I dragged the skirt of her dress up and pressed hard against her from behind. I didn't take anything off, just pulled my heavy erection out, pushed her panties to the side, grabbed each end of the crop, pulling it out of her mouth and dragging it down flush against her hips, using it as a handle with both of my hands, taking some of the pressure off her shoulders in this position, and started f**king her hard.
She was already sopping the second I made contact with her, but it wasn't a smooth ride. It was jerky, frenzied, and quick. I jarred into her at a pace meant to take her over the edge, and myself in the process, the tight press inside of her squeezing and sucking at me with each desperate thrust.
I hit the end of her, poured my seed into her womb as she clenched and milked me with her own orgasm, and started again.
I took her arms down, used the armbinder to fasten her arms in front of her now, and rigged them up above her head, pulling them high and securing them there.
I released her from the spreader, straightened, wrapped her legs around my waist, and shoved into her again.
I gripped a hand in her hair, the other cupping her cheek, and stared into her eyes as I took her again.
I went much longer this time, rutting in her for long minutes, lost in her eyes. They were pale windows to her soul, and I saw straight to it, with no impediments. It was the most intimate joining.
She was my sin and my temple. I both worshipped and defiled there. Gloried and desecrated. Revered and debased.
In her, I'd found my own earthly paradise.
"You're mine, Mrs. Cavendish," I told her, voice full of wonder.
"Yes," she breathed, "yes, Mr. Cavendish, and you're mine."
I arched my back and came, eyes never leaving her.
I f**ked her, made love to her, again and again, c**k marking her as mine, filling her with my se**n, greedy in the claiming and the taking.
Eventually, I relented and led her, with mussed hair, a wrinkled gown, and on unsteady legs back to our celebration, hand in hand, sated and content.
I felt so complete, so content in my bones, so lucky.