He was always fast. Efficient. Get things done.
But tonight, she looked at him with a smile and said,
“Slow down.”
So he did. But not how she expected.
Not just in pace… in presence.
He paused between touches.
Let her feel the silence.
Let her mind catch up to her body.
She waited… then squirmed.
“This is torture,” she whispered.
But her voice was low. Not complaining.
More like… begging.
By the time he finished, she wasn’t sure if a single minute or a full hour had passed.
All she knew?
She’d never say “slow down” the same way again.