Coming Up for Air (cole caufield x oc)

Forty

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

When Freya and Cole arrive back at his place, they're still debating whether or not Alex Turcotte is being entirely truthful about whatever might be going on with Tate. Cole, on the one hand, insists the guy is just a flirt and would tell the truth about something if it's more than just a bit. Freya is far from convinced.

"I'm telling you," she sighs, kicking off her shoes inside the door, "she's talking to someone, and I don't know who else it could be."

Cole helps Freya out of his blazer before suggesting, "Maybe she met someone at work?"

"Yeah, right," Freya scoffs. "She found her future husband at the strip club where she works."

"You never know," Cole counters. He shrugs and adds, "I'm sure she'll tell you when she's ready."

It makes Freya roll her eyes and grumble, "But I want to know now."

"So impatient," Cole chastises with a grin, stepping closer to Freya and moving her hair back from her face.

Freya's heart feels like it's going to pound right out of her chest as he leans down to meet her lips, soft and unhurried. Honestly, she isn't entirely sure why she's nervous. After all, she knows what she wants—she wants him. All of him. But standing there, his grey eyes searching her expression with content, Freya almost feels like she's out of her element—as if she's never even looked at a guy, much less had sex with one.

But Cole's touch on her cheek is so comforting, his lips so gentle as he leans down to kiss her again. Freya, unable to stop herself, slides her hands behind his neck, pulling him deeper into the kiss, which quickly turns hungry. He backs Freya against the door before his mouth moves onto her neck. In its wake, he leaves a trail of warm, open-mouthed kisses, before returning to Freya's lips.

Freya's body feels like liquid, and her insides are on fire, begging for Cole's touch. A little unexpectedly, he pulls back from her to smile.

"In case you were still wondering if I was lying about not being great with women," he begins, one hand leaving Freya's waist, "I realized after the game that I don't have a single condom here." From his pocket, Cole produces one and holds it between them. "And you'll never guess who had one."

Freya giggles and tries, "Brady?"

Cole returns it to his pocket and replies, "Josh," before he grins and lets his mouth come back onto hers. Now the kiss is desperate, aching. Freya moans as Cole grips her thighs, heaving her up so that she's pinned between his body and the door.

Cole's shifts his hips forward, and the feeling of his length against her core drives her insane. She sinks against him a little more, and he can apparently bear it no longer. His hands tight on the underside of her thighs, he carries her all the way into the bedroom. When he puts her down on the bed, Freya laughs, warmth spreading through her chest as she watches Cole unbutton his white shirt and pull it all the way off.

Greedily, Freya sits up, running her hands up Cole's chest and across his broad shoulders. He smirks at her, fingers clinging to her hair as she kisses him again, harder and hungrier than before.

"Touch me," Freya pleads, grabbing a hold of his hand. He needs little convincing, though, moving his touch under her black skirt. The moment he moves her panties aside and reaches her, a moan escapes her throat.

It makes Cole chuckle. His forefinger teases her entrance while the pad of his thumb grazes her clit, and Freya can't help but squirm underneath him, aching for more. He leans forward, his lips close to her ear. "What is it?" he whispers. The sound of his voice, a little muffled by her hair, somehow makes Freya wetter, which she didn't know was possible. Cole is already driving her to the edge without even touching her; she needs him as desperately as she needs water to survive.

"Fuck me," Freya begs. "Please."

Cole huffs, "Lay back," as he slides the tip of his finger in and then out of her. He murmurs, "I want you to come in mouth before I fuck you." Cole plants a kiss at the base of her jaw. "Think you can do that for me?"

"Mhmm," Freys manages, though the noise is ripped from her throat when Cole sinks two fingers all the way inside of her. He helps her out of her skirt, only pulling out of her for a second or two as she tears it off. And then his mouth is between her thighs, tongue circling her sensitive spot.

It's slow at first, wrenching another moan from Freya, but as he picks up the pace, Freya's hips rock against him in their own accord. Cole's fingers move faster, too, deeper and deeper until Freya is shaking at the sensation. She can't find the words to tell Cole that she's close, but—as if he knows her body as much as his own—Cole doesn't alter his pace.

All it takes is one more tormenting lash of Cole's tongue to get Freya over the edge. She tightens around Cole's fingers, a rush of electricity coursing down her spine. Cole pulls his hand from between her legs, and he lifts his head to meet her gaze with a smile.

Freya lets out a sigh, still making her way down from the high. "Uh oh," Cole laughs as he runs his palms under Freya's shirt along her ribs, "looks like somebody might be a little tired."

Just the words restore most of the life to Freya's muscles. She pulls Cole up to her lips so that she can kiss him, then she reaches down to grip his dick through his pants. It makes him groan, and the noise makes Freya all the more desperate for him.

"What happened to your promise that I won't be able to walk tomorrow?" she inquires, grinning at him.

"Oh, I'm not even close to done with you," Cole replies, voice husky. He pulls Freys's shirt over her head, cupping her breasts before taking one into his mouth, between his teeth.

As he does it, Freya undoes the button on his dress pants, pulling down the zipper and slipping her hand inside. More than ready to oblige, Cole takes his pants all the way off. He pauses long enough to remove the condom from his pocket.

Freya, watching him tear open the wrapping, asks, "You really want this?"

Cole falls forward and props himself up with one arm as his other hand rolls the condom down his length. He kisses her before replying, "I want you more than anything." His words tug at her heart, and she can't help but smile. "On top," he instructs her with a grin, and Freya is quick to climb on top of Cole's lap as he sinks into the pillows.

Carefully, she positions him beneath her, lowering herself down his length, inch by inch. She moans as she adjusts to his size, her walls stretched just the right amount. "Cole," she musters.

In response, he puts his hands on her waist, helping to ease her down on him and then back up again. "That's my girl," he whispers. His eyes drift over her body as he observes, "You look so perfect riding me."

At this, Freya leans forward, desperate to feel his skin against her. There, he kisses her again, sinking all the way inside her as she cries out in pleasure against his lips.

It isn't long before Cole tells her he's close, just as Freya's walls tighten around him. They come together—and Freya knows already: she's even more addicted than she thought.