Chapter 17 Eyes On Me
Eyes On Me
Langston
She’s fire under my hands.
Soft, warm, alive—and I swear every time I touch her, I feel it in my bones.
I drag my palms down the sides of her body, slow and reverent, like I’m trying to memorize the way she curves. “You feel amazing.” I whisper against her throat.
She shivers, and it undoes me.
I’ve been with women before. Beautiful ones. Polished. Practiced. But none of them ever felt like this. None of them made me feel like I was standing too close to something that could change me if I wasn’t careful.
Her breath catches as I trace her hip, my fingers skimming skin I’ve imagined for too long. “You’re driving me insane,” I admit, voice low, rough. “Every sound you make, every time you move under me… I can’t think straight.”
I kiss her again, slower this time, trying to keep myself steady when all I want is to lose control. She tastes like heat and need and something dangerously close to home.
Every small sound she makes sends sparks through me, and I can’t help the words that slip out between kisses.
“Sweetheart… you don’t know what you’re doing to me.”
Her fingers twist in my hair.
“I want to learn you,” I breathe. “All of you.”
I placed one hand on her stomach, sliding my other hand down until I tuck the tips of my fingers into her panties. She gasps when I push my fingers through her wet core, circling her clit twice before I do it again.
She starts moving her body against me and I smile against her neck. Slowly moving my mouth down her body while pulling her clothes off.
When I reach the apex of her thighs I run my tongue along her core. “Is this okay?”
“God, yes.” She moans and I smack her pussy lightly.
“Not God sweetheart.”
She hums her agreement and I continue to feast on my wife.
“Jesus you're tight.” I push a finger inside her. “Your pussy is begging for me, sweetheart.” I slowly start to stretch her out and she starts wiggling below me.
“Please.” She begs me quietly and I chuckle against her skin. That tips her over the edge. She grips my head between her legs and I glance up to see a slight pained look on her face before the most beautiful smile breaks out and she releases her grip on me.
I pull my clothes off while she is still in utter bliss.
“You're so pretty.” She smiles at me.
“Pretty?” I laugh at her as I pull my boxers down my legs. “I've never been called pretty before.”
She gives me a little smile and shrugs. “Well, you are.”
I climb over her and press a deep kiss against her lips. Wanting to make sure I feel every movement of hers.
When I shift, she gasps—sharp and uncertain—and I freeze instantly. My body is fire, but my mind catches up in time to see the hesitation in her eyes.
“Hey.” My voice drops to a whisper as I brush her hair back. “What is it?”
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 us gasp.
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.
I can still feel the heat of her skin clinging to the strands — that soft, salty mix of sweat and sweetness it has only happened after her.
The faint trace of her shampoo is there, vanilla maybe, something warm and familiar, but it’s been changed—claimed—by us.
It smells like the night, like the air between kisses, like the place where her neck met my mouth.
It’s intoxicating. Every breath pulls me back to her skin, to the sound she made when I whispered her name, to the way her fingers tightened around me.
I know I’m ruined now. Because no matter where I go, if I ever catch this scent again—this blend of warmth, skin, and her—I’ll think of her.
I’ll think of this. And I’ll want it all over again.
I push off of her and lean back.
My cum has leaked out of her, mixing with her own pleasure and the evidence that she is now mine. I can't stop myself. I reach down, gather every drop that has spilled out, and sink my fingers inside her, shoving my seed as deep as I can.