We recorded the entire ceremony.
Trip had set up the camera, capturing every moment– the vows, the way we looked at each other, the way our daughter stood between us, her little hand holding ours like she was anchoring us to this world.
But we don’t post it. Not yet. This moment is ours. Just ours.
For now.
And after we send Alia off on a plane to Grandma and Grandpa’s house, leaving her safe and sound, Trip and I are alone.
Completely. And the moment that door closes behind us, he isn’t gentle.
His lips crash against mine, his hands tangling in my hair as he backs me toward the chair next to the bed, his body pressing against me like he can’t get close enough.
“Mine,” he growls, his voice a low, dangerous whisper that makes my knees weak.
“Yours,” I breathe, my body already arching into him.
His hands are everywhere, tearing at my clothes, his lips devouring mine as he walks me backward until my knees hit the edge of the chair.
He pushes me down.
“Stay right there, killstreak,” he murmurs, his eyes dark and filled with hunger as he grabs the silk restraints from the nightstand.
My breath hitches, my body already trembling with anticipation as he ties my wrists to the legs of the chair, his fingers brushing lightly over my skin, leaving goosebumps in their wake.
“Trip…”
“Shh.”
His lips brush over mine, his tongue sliding into my mouth as he kisses me deep and slow, his hands trailing down my body.
“Tonight,” he whispers, his lips brushing against my jaw, “I’m going to worship you.”
And he does.
His eyes never leave mine, dark and filled with pure hunger. He moves with precision, his jaw clenched, his breath coming out in slow, controlled exhales.
Control.
But I can feel the barely restrained beast just beneath the surface. Begging to be set free.
The man who has killed for me. The man who has claimed me in blood and chaos. The man who is about to ruin me once again.
“Comfortable, little killer?” he murmurs, his voice a low growl that vibrates through me, sending a shiver down my spine.
“Trip…” My voice is breathless, already trembling, my body aching for him before he even touches me.
He kneels between my legs, spreading my thighs wide, his thumbs tracing slow, lazy circles against the sensitive skin of my inner thighs.
“So fucking beautiful…” His eyes devour me, his fingers brush over my soaked pussy, teasing, but not giving me what I need.
“Please…”
My voice is barely above a whisper, my body already arching toward him, desperate for his mouth.
“Patience, killstreak.”
But I have none.