She shakes her head, eyes wide.
“Talk to me,” I coax, gentler now. “What’s wrong?”
Her lips part, trembling. “I just… I’ve never—”
And suddenly, I understand.
I pull back, breathing hard, fighting against the need still thrumming through me.
“You should’ve told me,” I say softly, pressing my forehead to hers. “I could’ve hurt you.”
She shakes her head. “You didn’t.”
I close my eyes, trying to gather what little control I have left. “You don’t understand. You—” I stop, letting out a shaky laugh. “You deserve better than rushed. You deserve to know that when it happens, it’s because you want it.”
Her fingers tighten around my wrist. “Langston—”
When she looks up at me, trusting and open, everything inside me shifts.
Whatever control I thought I had is gone.
I lower my forehead to hers, my voice barely above a whisper.
“Tell me you want this, sweetheart.”
Her answer is a small nod. “Please, Husband.”
The world narrows to the sound of her breathing, the warmth of her skin, the soft way she whispers my name when I touch her.
The word Husband—the weight of it, the unexpected tenderness—snaps the last of my patience. I don't move immediately, instead, I lean in and capture her lips again, kissing her with a fierce, possessive reverence that says,You are mine, and I will be gentle.I keep the kiss going, deep and slow, letting her taste her own arousal mixed with my desperate need.
When I finally pull back, my breath hitches. I slide my hand under the small of her back, lifting her just slightly against me so our bodies are flush. I press a soft, lingering kiss to the pounding pulse at the base of her throat.
“I will go slow,” I promise, my voice thick with emotion. I close my eyes for a single second, accepting the intensity of the moment.
I move between her legs, but pause, my body hovering over hers. I slide my hand down, cupping the curve of her hip, grounding myself in the feel of her skin. “Look at me, Sabrina. Eyes on me.” Her eyes snap to mine and I use the tip of my erection to trace the line of her entrance, a hot, wet friction that makes both of usgasp. I don’t press in. I just tease the edges, drawing out a long, desperate moan from her.
“Langston,” she whispers, a plea for more, not for release. The sound is everything. I gather my final ounce of control, focusing on the small, almost imperceptible tremor running through her body.
She holds her breath when I start to push into her.
“Breathe, sweetheart. You think I didn’t make sure I got this sweet cunt nice and ready to take me? You think I didn’t make you wet enough?" I make a clicking noise with my tongue. "Maybe we should try for more."
She shakes her head back and forth when I pull out of her slightly, reaching down between us I start circling her clit while running myself through her wet core. Then press into her slowly. I feel the moment she becomes mine. No going back. I'm keeping her forever.
She trembles, and the sound she makes breaks something deep inside me. I realize it isn’t just about wanting her. It’s about needing her to feel safe. Seen. Cherished.
When her tears spill over, I brush them away with my thumbs.
“Hey,” I whisper, voice rough. “You’re okay. I’ve got you.”
Her eyes find mine—wide, glistening, full of something that looks like wonder.
“I’ll take care of you,” I promise softly. “Always.”
Every move I make is slow, careful—like I’m trying to prove something I can’t put into words. She shatters around me and I can't hold off any longer. I come with her name as a shout and bury my head in her hair.
Her hair smells like everything I’ll never forget.
