Coming Up for Air (cole caufield x oc)

Twenty-One

author's note: this chapter is def NSFW so feel free to skip to next chapter if you're uncomfy!
next one will be posted soon :)

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𝕗𝕣𝕖𝕪𝕒

Freya doesn't even give Cole a chance to respond before she slips her arms out of the jersey's sleeves and drags the fabric up over her head. Cole lets out a shaky exhale, which Freya feels against the bare skin of her chest. His eyes track from her torso all the way back up to her eyes; there, he waits.

"Tell me you're not just gonna sit there and stare at me," Freya prompts with a little smile. Apparently needing no other approval, Cole's palms, calloused and rough, glide up her back until they reach the clasp of her bra, though he doesn't move to undo it.

Antsy, Freya grinds down a little harder on his lap, and she can tell from the way his eyes hood a little that he feels it. "I'm trying," he manages weakly, "to let you set the pace."

It's sweet—really—but Freya doesn't want it. She wants him to lead. She replies, "What if I want you to be in control?" Her hands find the collar of his dress shirt, tugging at it idly as she chews on her bottom lip. "Is that okay?" she murmurs.

He moves his fingers into Freya's hair, pulling her down to meet his mouth. She kisses him back hungrily—desperate for more. Cole doesn't hesitate to wrap his arms behind her thighs, heaving the two of them off the couch as Freya giggles. She plants soft, teasing kisses on his neck until she hears him kick open the door at the end of the hallway. There, he lowers her onto the bed, which seems to be four sizes bigger than the one Freya has at home. Perks of being a professional hockey player, she supposes.

Cole, standing beside the bed at Freya's feet, undoes the buttons of his dress shirt as she watches him intently. When he pulls it all the way off, he falls forward, boxing Freya in between his arms—one on each side of her head.

Fuck, is all Freya can think at first, admittedly a little surprised how much muscle mass he's been hiding in his shoulders and arms.

He leans forward to kiss her again, staying close to her lips to ask, "You want me in control?"

Words evade her—so Freya settles for nod and a mischievous smirk. It seems to be all he needs. Cole toys with the strap of Freya's bra before he slides it off her shoulder. His mouth comes down on the place where it used to be, soft and slow. Then he plants a kiss on Freya's neck, followed by another at the base of her jaw.

Freya can't fend off the moan that slips through her teeth when he does it: her core is on fire, her skin begging to be touched by him. She lifts her back a little off the bed so that Cole can slide his hand underneath her. Deftly, he undoes the clasp of her bra, pulling it the rest of the way off before he pauses to take her in.

"Fuck," he mutters, shaking his head.

"What?" she asks, her tone soft and playful.

His gaze is dark with desire, and while he offers Freya no verbal response, his mouth comes down to meet her breast. Her back arches when he takes one nipple between his teeth, sucking at the sensitive skin. It prompts a cry of pleasure from the back of Freya's throat, one that seems to amuse Cole, who lifts his head to smile at her. Freya melts at the sight of him, and—as if he, too, can't help feeling a little soft—Cole brushes her lips with his own, still grinning.

"What do you want?" he asks her. Freya claws at his back, hoping she can pull him back into her chest, but he doesn't budge. "Tell me," he demands, lowering just a little, "and I'll give it to you."

As he says it, Cole's fingers find the button of Freya's jeans. "I want you," Freya urges. At this, he undoes the button beneath his fingers, hovering over the zipper a moment before dragging that down, too. 

Freya starts to reach for the waist of his pants, but he stops her hand when it's just inches from him, lifting it to his lips so that he can kiss her fingers. She stares up at him, a little confused until he leans back down to her. "Let me take care of you," he breathes.

Before Freya can respond, Cole kisses a trail down to her stomach, stopping when he reaches her jeans. Eagerly, Freya scrambles to pull them off, which makes Cole chuckle. He watches as she lays back down, scooting a little closer to the edge of the bed so that her legs are dangling off the side on either side of Cole, where it's easier for him to reach her.

He moves his hands up her bare thighs, and Freya suddenly feels drunk on the sensation of his touch.  When his fingers slip beneath one string of her panties, he asks, "Is this okay?"

"Yes," Freya squeaks. "God, yes. Please touch me."

Obediently, Cole presses his palm flat against her center, sending a shock up Freya's spine. He can almost certainly feel how much Freya is craving him, but he's slow to move one finger inside her—only a little, and then back out, teasing.

Freya starts to wonder if it's possible to come with this man hardly even touching her, because she swears she's already close when Cole pulls his hand from her underwear and slips his fingers into his mouth to taste her.

It must be his undoing, because before Freya can even utter a word, Cole is on his knees. He tucks his shoulders under her thighs, before kissing inside of her leg, inching closer to her core.

"Beautiful," he whispers against her entrance, his breath tormenting her. Freya feels him slide two fingers back inside her as his lips finally come down against her. At first, he teases her with his tongue, barely grazing the sensitive nub that's begging for his touch. Freya is desperate for his fingers to move deeper, faster, and when her back arches, his pace quickens.

Finally, he wraps his lips around her clit, sucking as he drives harder into her with his hand. It sends Freya over the edge more quickly than she wants, but she can't help it. "Cole," she stammers, "I'm gonna come." Whether or not he is going to respond, Freya's body doesn't give him the chance: the orgasm shakes her to her core, tearing a cry of pleasure from her throat as she moans his name. 

He doesn't seem to care that she's still sensitive from the high, because he keeps sucking on her, moving his fingers in and out. The orgasm feels like it goes on for hours, Cole tormenting her with long, hard strokes, right where she needs him the most.

When he finally lets Freya come down, she's trembling all over. Holy fuck, she breathes silently to herself.

Cole kisses up her bare thighs, making his way to Freya's lips. He kisses her ever so softly and whispers, "You're fucking perfect."

Freya somehow feels like she's just finished running a marathon but also like she's just woken from the best nap of her life. 

Against her neck, Cole murmurs, "I love the sounds you make when you're coming on my tongue."

Freya slips her arms around him and clings to his muscular frame. "I need to make you feel good now," she manages, still a little breathless.

Cole's laugh tickles her ear. "You don't need to do anything, pretty girl," he replies. "All I want right now is to hold you."

He lifts Freya again, this time just enough to move her all the way onto his bed so that he can collapse beside her.

When Freya turns her head to look at him, she's mesmerized. The sliver of moonlight coming through the curtains makes his big grey eyes sparkle with desire. Freya's stomach does a little flip as Cole's gaze sweeps over her skin with admiration. He runs a hand up and down her side before moving it up to her cheek.

He kisses her as her eyes flutter closed, and fuck, Freya already knows this isn't going to end well for either of them.