'Finally, I got you, wife.' Feeling the softness of her delicate wrist wrapped around by my fingers as I stood outside the door, I just kicked.
There was inflating desire as I recalled our first night, which had been a very bad experience and a hit to my male pride—a man falling unconscious on his wedding night.
How does that sound?
Definitely something that would categorize me in the section of those simp husbands who can't even satisfy their wives, nor that it was an R-18 novel, but I would make it one!
"H-husband, I—" Even before the hushed and soft voice could escape her lips, I pulled her into the room, her following my will as if not retaliating.
I let her hand go as I yanked her into the room, which was slightly dark, and I swiftly turned to close the door.
There was a smirk tugging at my face, as today, no matter what, even at the cost of exhausting myself, breaking my spine, or having my penis fractured, I was hellbent on making this whole night memorable for us.
