Page 18 of My Only (My First, My Last)

This song had always been ours . It wasn’t just the first song we danced to as husband and wife, it was a reminder of everything we were.

I thought about our wedding and our honeymoon in the Caribbean at least once a month.

One of the happiest times of my life. Of our lives.

And every time Ayla was upset with me, I played this song to remind her of that.

I rolled out of bed and made my way to her side, extending my hand toward her.

Ayla stared at it for a breath before looking up at me. Then she rolled her eyes.

“You gonna leave me hanging, Mrs. Franklin?”

She kissed her teeth. “You left me hanging tonight.”

But I didn’t drop my hand. I just waited.

With an exaggerated sigh, she finally placed her palm in mine.

I pulled her into my arms, swaying with her in the dark once I got her in my embrace, the glow from the streetlamp outside casting a soft light over us.

At first, she avoided my eyes.

But the longer we moved together, the more her body softened. Slowly, her arms lifted, coiling around my neck.

I grinned down at her.

She rolled her eyes again, but this time, smiled back. “I’m so mad at you.”

I tightened my arms around her. “I know. Tell me what I can do for you to forgive me.”

She pursed her lips, looking away.

The song ended, then started over. I’d put it on repeat. Planned to keep holding her, keep swaying, even if we stayed up all night. I just couldn’t let her go to bed mad at me.

So I leaned in and kissed her.

It started as a simple peck. That was the plan.

But the second our lips touched, it was over.

Ayla moaned, and I did too, our mouths parting, tongues meeting in a slow, deep kiss.

Soft caresses turned into something more, like they always did.

I guided her back toward the bed, keeping my lips on hers as she fell onto the mattress with a breathy giggle. But then she was moaning again—me on top of her, her fingers dragging along my shoulders as I kissed a path from her jaw to her neck.

She arched slightly, letting me pull her cami over her head, and I immediately took her nipple into my mouth.

“Hassani,” she sighed, her voice melting into the music.

I groaned against her skin, flicking my tongue over her soft nipple before giving the other the same attention.

Rising slightly, I yanked my white tee over my head, tossing it aside, then trailed kisses down her stomach as I hooked my fingers into the waistband of her shorts, sliding them off.

She lifted her hips to help me.

Then I spread her thighs, pushed them back, and buried my mouth between them.

Ayla gasped, her back arching against the mattress as her fingers grabbed the back of my head.

“Happily Ever After” played softly in the background, her moans mixing with the song’s melody.

I groaned at the taste of her on my tongue—sweet, warm, already slick for me.

She lifted her head, watching as I twirled my tongue over the soft pink bundle of nerves that made her body tremble.

“ Mmm-hmm ,” she whispered, her lips parting, her dark eyes half-lidded as she held my stare. “That feels so good, baby.”

That look alone made my dick throb.

Her head fell back, her body shifting against my mouth, chasing pleasure, rolling her hips as I licked her, sucked her, made her come on my tongue.

I groaned at the feel of her pulsing against my lips.

My hands pressed into her thighs, holding her open, keeping her exactly where I wanted her.

Her moans turned breathless, and she shuddered, legs tightening around my head as she let go.

And I wasn’t close to done.

The moment she collapsed against her pillow, chest rising and falling, body spent, I climbed on top of her—sinking into her wet heat, hands-free.

“ Mmm ,” I exhaled, shuddering as her velvet soft walls stretched to take me in then wrapped tight around me. “Damn.”

Ayla’s body came alive again beneath me, her mouth parting, her eyes locking onto mine.

“I love you so much,” I whispered, drinking her in. “You know that right, baby?”

She nodded, breath hitching as I rolled my hips in slow, desperate strokes, not caring about the time or that we had places to be in just a few hours.

By the way she pulled me down, pressing her lips to mine, moaning at the taste of herself on my tongue, I knew my wife didn’t care about the time either.

“I’m sorry,” I groaned against her lips, my hand searching for hers, interlocking our fingers. I slid deeper, listening to her whimper in time with my thrusts. “Forgive me, baby.” Another slow stroke, deeper this time. “Forgive me, aight?”

Ayla moaned, nodding, gripping and releasing me between her thighs, her body stilling as pleasure stole through her.

Our wedding song played on repeat, wrapping around us like a promise.

Our bodies moved together. Lips tangled. More words whispered between kisses.

But then, something shifted.

Subtle. Tiny enough it could’ve been missed. But I felt it .

She moaned my name like always, held onto me like always, but when I locked eyes with her, there it was. A distance that hadn’t been there before that night.

She was forgiving me.

But she wasn’t forgetting.

I’d never canceled on her for anything. But things were different now. Since construction on the project started over the summer, everything had changed—no matter how much I wanted to deny it.

Deep down, I knew what Ayla and I were doing wasn’t enough to fix the shift happening between us.

But for tonight, though… it would have to be.

So I loved on my wife that night, hoping, praying, that this would be one of the few times I’d ever have to tell her I’m sorry.