Page 5 of My Only (My First, My Last)

Sitting here now, on this chaise lounge, had been the longest we’d gone without putting our hands on each other.

Saint Lucia had been a dream.

And I wasn’t looking forward to waking up outside of it.

I peeked over at Hassani again, catching the way he smiled at me, pencil still moving across the page.

He had shown me some of his sketches, and as always, I marveled at how effortlessly his hands translated what he saw into something tangible.

His sketches weren’t just of the villa.

Some of them were of me.

Doing simple things—like right now, lounging on this chaise.

I aimed my camera at him, focusing on the way his fingers gripped the pencil, the slight crease in his brow, the way the sunlight highlighted his profile.

And then… click .

Hassani smirked, his gaze lifting.

I said, “I’m going to start charging you for all these sketches you make of me.”

Hassani smiled but said nothing in response.

I lay back against the chaise, eyes squinting against the sun. “I’ll never forget this place.”

“Same,” he said softly, closing his sketchbook and setting it on the side table. “We need to start getting ready for the surprise I have for you, though.”

Excitement made my heart flutter in my chest.

It was our final activity on the island—one Hassani had saved for our last full day in Saint Lucia.

We had done everything else the island had to offer… except for this.

And whatever it was, Hassani had been keeping it a secret.

Hassani walked over to me, the sunlight catching on his defined arms, abs, and chest, casting a shadow on the floor as he moved.

Even though he no longer ran track competitively, running was still part of his daily routine—even here, on the island.

He had kissed me out of bed every morning to join him, and I had never refused him. Not when I was always rewarded with a return to that bed and good sex until noon.

So, of course, I never complained.

My camera was in my hands again as he sank onto the edge of my chaise, my lens aimed at his handsome face.

He leaned around the camera, making me giggle.

His lips brushed against my neck.

“And how much should I charge for all these photos you’ve got of me on this thing?” he asked, his deep voice rumbling in my chest.

I closed my eyes as he sucked lightly on my skin, heat pooling low in my stomach.

Hassani trailed soft kisses from my neck to my cheek, then toward my lips.

I blindly reached for the side table, setting my camera down to free my hands, so I could take his face between them.

And when he pressed his lips to mine, we both moaned.

Didn’t waste a second parting our lips, our tongues caressing as our kiss deepened.

Hassani settled between my thighs, his body heavy, his heat melting me from the inside out.

I didn’t know if it was the island, the high of being newly married. But whatever it was, it was new .

And I liked it.

It was as if another layer of our relationship had peeled back, revealing fresh, untouched skin.

Because the way Hassani kissed me as a husband was different.

The way his hands moved over my body, the way he massaged my skin, taking our kiss deeper, drove me the kind of wild that felt like sin.

“ Mmm ,” he groaned, lips moving against mine. “We gotta stop, or we’re gonna miss the surprise I have for you.”

I nodded but didn’t let go.

Didn’t stop kissing him.

Hassani chuckled, successfully breaking our kiss, but I pulled him right back in.

He pecked my lips once—twice—then finally pulled away.

A second later, he was on his feet, his swim trunks visibly tenting in front.

That was all I saw. All I wanted to see.

Hassani slid a finger beneath my chin, tilting my head back so I’d meet his gaze.

“Not right now. Later.” He smirked, holding out his hand for me to take. “We gotta go.”

I giggled, nodding as I took his hand and let him pull me to my feet.

* * *

The surprise was a sunset cruise around the island.

My jaw dropped when we arrived at the marina and Hassani revealed he had rented a private yacht for us to sail at sunset.

When we boarded, we had dinner on the upper deck, just before setting sail.

And once we were on the crystal blue water, I wanted to see everything.

I stood at the edge of the upper deck, one arm draped over the railing, one hand nursing a glass of champagne. My eyes locked on the sun, dipping below the horizon, painting the sky in fiery shades of orange and soft hues of pink.

I had brought my camera, but for the first time, I didn’t want to capture anything.

I wanted this moment to exist only in my memories.

I lifted my champagne glass to my lips for a sip just as Hassani approached me from behind.

His hand slid along my stomach as he pressed his body close to mine.

I smiled from my heart before it even reached my lips.

“I feel like I’m living out a fantasy I never even knew I had,” I whispered to myself, totally fine with him hearing it.

We had been together for four years, though it didn’t feel that long.

Not when life had kept us so busy. Me with my work at the school, Hassani with his private architecture firm.

Our days had been filled with deadlines and due dates, making those four years feel more like one.

We didn’t talk much about the wedding that never happened—the one he was supposed to have with someone else.

But sometimes, it found its way into conversation.

And yet, standing here, on this yacht, in his arms, with an island sunset before us, those four years felt more like one month.

Because getting married made everything feel new again.

Hassani turned me to face him, his arms locking firmly around my waist.

His eyes searched mine, his skin drinking in the fiery colors of the sunset.

“You’re a fantasy I’ve lived out in my imagination way too many times to count,” he remarked low. “A. Boogie.”

I bit my bottom lip, lifting my arms to wrap around his neck, balancing on the arches of my feet.

Hassani walked me backward—stopping only when my body pressed against the ship’s railing.

We shared a kiss, like always.

Hassani’s hand found a home on my ass, squeezing firmly as his tongue moved against mine.

I pecked his lips before leaning back, my gaze locking with his.

“Planning this sunset cruise seems like it took a lot of effort.”

“Nothing is too much effort when it comes to you.” He tightened his hold around my waist. “You know that.”

“ Mm-hmm .” I smiled. “Don’t go designing me a yacht, though.”

He arched a brow. “You want me to design you a yacht?” His smirk deepened. “I can design you a yacht.”

I leaned my head back in laughter, and when I leveled my gaze, he was watching me, smiling.

“You’re not sleeping tonight, Mrs. Franklin,” he promised the second our eyes met. “Not on my watch.”

“Oh, I hope not,” I replied, holding him tighter.

* * *

Eventually, sleep found us.

But as the seagulls cried overhead and morning light painted soft gold across our villa the next morning, I blinked awake to find Hassani asleep beside me.

Like most nights in the villa, we had fallen asleep on the outdoor daybed, just inches from the pool.

Waking up to the sound of waves, the scent of salt and sun, the endless stretch of ocean before us, had become a norm I would miss.

We were leaving today.

A part of me was sad, but another part of me was excited. Because when we left, I would be leaving as Mrs. Ayla Franklin.

I sat up slowly, shifting my gaze toward Hassani.

Last night, after returning from the sunset cruise, we hadn’t wasted a single second getting our hands on each other.

The candles we lit flickered in the breeze, casting soft shadows against the walls, their glow blending seamlessly with the rhythm of the ocean ahead of us.

For our final night, we had slept outside in the nude, letting the warmth of the island wrap around us.

We wanted the sun to wake us.

Before we had drifted off, we had massaged each other. Our hands were slicked with the chocolate-coconut-flavored oil we had discovered in our honeymoon suite’s gift basket, courtesy of the resort.

Hassani had been the first to use it.

Our first morning in Saint Lucia, he had drizzled it onto my skin while I slept—then woken me with his tongue buried between my thighs.

He had cleaned every drop of oil from my skin, stroking my clit in slow, tight circles until my back arched so high I couldn’t breathe.

That man had wrecked me before I had even opened my eyes.

By the time my release had ripped through me, I was boneless, slipping back into sleep not long after waking.

I had vowed to get him back for that.

And now… I saw my opportunity.

I slipped from the bed, tiptoeing into the villa and toward the bathroom.

After freshening up and brushing my teeth, I returned just as quietly.

Hassani was still asleep.

I smiled, knowing he was about to wake up the same way I had.

I watched him for a moment, the daybed’s light summer bedding barely covering him—his torso bare, the sheets pooled at his waist.

The massage oil from last night still gleamed against his golden-brown skin.

He looked like a well-chiseled statue, the slow rise and fall of his chest the only movement against the stillness of the morning.

With the bottle of edible massage oil in hand, I slipped onto the daybed’s mattress, careful not to wake him.

Slowly, I lifted the covers.

Drizzling the warm oil onto his abs, his dick, I wrapped my fingers around him, my touch light. Focused.

Then, I took him into my mouth.

“ Mmm ,” he groaned in his sleep, his body stirring.

His lashes fluttered, brows tensing, breath hitching.

Then, his eyes blinked open.

“Good morning,” I mumbled, my lips still wrapped around him.

“Gah—” He growled, his jaw going slack, his abs clenching as I bobbed deeper.

His fist gripped the pillow I had slept on, pressing it to his face, his muffled groans spilling into the fabric.

I moaned, hollowing my cheeks, my tongue stroking where I knew he liked it most.

His free hand found my curls, fisting them, his grip tightening with every flick of my tongue.

His grunts deepened, roughened, his chest rising and falling in quick succession.

He tugged at my hair, the silent plea clear and not missed on me.

He was close.

Too close.

“ Fuck , Ayla, fuck!” he groaned, yanking the pillow from his face. “I’m about to come, baby. I’m about to come.”

I didn’t stop.

Didn’t pull away.

His entire body went still, every muscle locked tight, his abs rippling, his fists clenched, his jaw tensed in a silent cry.

And then, he let go.

A long, guttural groan tore from his lips, his body shuddering beneath me as I took everything he gave.

Only when he lay completely boneless against the bed, his breaths ragged, his limbs heavy, did I slowly release him.

For a moment, he didn’t move.

Couldn’t.

His chest rose and fell, his lips parted, struggling to pull in air.

I smirked.

Then, I drizzled more of the oil into my palm, wrapping my fingers around his softening shaft.

And stroked.

His body jerked beneath my touch, his breath catching.

“Shit,” he exhaled as I climbed over him, straddling his waist.

His hands immediately gripped my hips, his fingers digging in as I dragged my slick heat over him, teasing. “ Damnnn , baby. Damn.”

Our wedding night and honeymoon were the first times we’d made love without a condom.

And while I was still on the pill, a part of me looked forward to the day when this— us , together, like this —would lead to something more.

To something we created.

I sank down slow, my body molding around him, my walls stretching to fit him perfectly.

His pupils dilated, his jaw slacked.

I smirked. “I told you I’d get you back, right?”

Hassani laughed lazily, then groaned, his hands tightening on my waist.

I rolled my hips, shuddering each time his erection grazed my most sensitive places.

His heat, his slick skin against mine, the way he rubbed against my clit with every motion.

It sent rolling pleasure shooting up my spine.

Hassani’s grip tightened, his fingers digging in as he met my rhythm, thrusting up into me with well-timed strokes.

“Damn,” he drawled, baring his teeth as I picked up speed. “I don’t ever wanna wake up from this shit, baby.”

As his hands roamed over me, as the waves whispered against the shore, I thought…

This is how it should always be.

Effortless. Whole. Weightless.

But a hum of doubt curled at the edges of my mind, too. A voice I wasn’t ready to listen to…

Could it always feel this easy?

I let the warmth of his touch drown it out.

I lost myself in him.

In us.

In now.

I closed my eyes, surrendering to the pull of my release, my body tightening, my breaths coming quick and shallow.

And I whispered,

“I don’t ever want to wake up from this either, baby.”

But somehow…

We did.