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With practiced precision and a tenderness born from our years of shared intimacy, he swept me into his arms. I was in his world now, suspended in the quiet calm that shrouded us as if the rest of the world ceased to exist. His hands were gentle as they traced up my thighs, lifting the delicate fabric of my gown with reverent care.
“Can I just…pretend for a second?” he murmured against my skin. “Pretend this is after the wedding, that you’re all mine.”
“Yes,” I gasped.
Hassan's hand trailed higher, his fingers dancing on the edge of my underwear. A delicious thrill ran through me at his touch, and I couldn't help but let out a soft moan. His gaze never left mine, as he whispered, "Tell me to stop at any time."
I didn't want him to stop. "I want you to come inside of me."
"Inside you?" he questioned, a teasing smirk playing on his lips.
“Well…I am your wife, aren’t I? So come inside me," I confirmed, my eyes never leaving his. "Right now."
He let out a harsh breath and kissed me again, harder, his tongue invading my mouth. His hands were moving to pull my gown up to my hips, finding the scalloped lace edge of my red lingerie, and he pulled away from the kiss to look.
“Red?” he chuckled.
I nodded, breathless. “I thought Bash…”
“Don’t talk about him–he doesn’t get to see these anyway,” Hassan said as he slid them down my hips. I couldn’t do anything but watch as he slipped them into the pocket of his slacks. “I’m keeping them as a souvenir…and you get to walk down the aisle wearing nothing underneath.”
My breath hitched as he lifted me effortlessly to sit on the vanity, spreading my thighs and stepping between them. His movements were smooth as he unzipped his pants, his cock springing free, and he pressed himself against my aching core.
“Fuck,” I cursed.
“Tell me you’re all mine and I’ll fuck you,” he said.
“I’m yours,” I instantly responded.
He thrust all the way in, his hips knocking against my inner thighs. I groaned and threw my head back, the veil pooling around my hands, braced on the vanity.
“Again,” he said.
“I’m yours, Hassan!”
With a primal need driving us both, Hassan began to thrust his hips hard and fast, the heat of our bodies melding together. A low, guttural groan escaped from deep within him as he fucked me, his movements deliberate and measured. Waves of pleasure washed over me like a tidal surge, threatening to consume every inch of my being.
"Justice," he sighed out my name like a prayer, his voice thick with desire and longing. I arched my back, inviting him even deeper. My hands found their way to his waist, gripping tightly as I pulled him closer.
A breathless whisper escaped my lips as I felt him fill every part of me. "Fuck," I gasped in awe and ecstasy. Our eyes locked in an intimate gaze, reflecting the raw hunger and connection that bound us together.
His dark eyes smoldered with desire as they met mine. "You feel so damn good," he rasped hoarsely. "So tight."
The words sent a thrill through my veins, and I reached up to rake my fingers through his tousled hair. "I've always been yours," I murmured, pulling him down to me as our lips clashed.
And it was true.
Sure, I’d known Bash first. I loved Skylar and Zane.
But Hassan…he’d seen me in a way none of the other three had.
We’d been victims in this together, clinging to each other.
And it felt like I was losing him, and it really fucking hurt.
But I willed myself to forget, focusing only on the pleasure. Each stroke of his hips found that sweet spot inside me that had my breath hitching in my throat. Waves of pleasure washed over me, each one more intense than the last. I tightened around him, my body reacting instinctively to his rhythm.
"Look at me—" His plea was ragged and raw as he gripped the back of my neck, forcing my eyes open. His breath fanned hot against my skin. "I need you to look at me."
