🔥 STEAMY ALERT—VERY VERY VERY (like for reals) steamy scene ahead. ENTIRE chapter. Proceed with caution (lmao I know you're here for it, don't lie) 🔥

♫ It's crazy how we didn't talk for years
But we don't need to say much to get caught up ♪
(Jojo ft. Tory Lanez & 30 Roc—Comeback)

By the time Ryan pried his mouth from Coralie's, her insides had liquefied.

She blew out a lengthy breath as heat flooded her cheeks.

"Wow," she purred, struggling to stand up straight as she untangled herself from him. Her gaze locked onto the top of his shirt as she licked her lips. "That was everything I expected it to be, and more."

"More?" He weaved his fingers through her hair, bringing her close to him once again. "Is that what you want? More?"

She might have been unsure for the past few weeks, but nestled in his arms, hungover from his dangerously delicious kiss, her qualms had vanished. All the screaming in her head had dulled to a subtle, swooning lullaby that only urged her to further explore these feelings. Hormones raged a war with her conscience, and she was too overwhelmed by lust to fight.

She had no doubt he was what she wanted, despite how many times she'd argued with herself, promising not to give in.

"I..."

He let out the sexiest giggle she'd ever heard; one that ripped through her composure, one that implored her to grab his face and kiss him again.

"Or perhaps you need more convincing? I'm happy to oblige."

His lips pressed onto hers before she'd made up her mind; to decide if, in fact, she needed him to sway her. She was already under his spell, her knees weak, her toes tingling, her core burning with a craving for more.

More.

Yes, she wanted more.

Their tongues explored, twisting and twirling and touching to the point of stopping her heart, then restarting it with such fervor she could barely breathe. Every time she feared she'd lost consciousness, he switched things up—speeding up the tempo, grazing his fingertips along her neck, rubbing his erection against her thigh—and brought her back to life.

She managed to unglue their lips as his hands wandered under her shirt, skidding to her bra clasp.

"We should," she swallowed, dizzy with delight, "take this elsewhere. In case Delilah comes home."

She peered around him at the other end of the room. The table caught her eye, and she pictured him heaving her up and spreading her legs and lowering to his knees to pleasure her.

Fuck.

Delilah might have made plans to sleep at her most recent conquest's house; they could have gotten busy in the kitchen, for all she knew. They could have had fun anywhere in the apartment—and they were both creative enough with their fantasies to do so. On the counter, on the carnelian chair by the door, on the living room carpet—too many ideas shimmied through her mind and she lost focus, lost track of time.

Her breaths hitched in her throat as she flattened against the wall and fanned herself. Tremors dispersed down her arms, creeping to her fingers, numbing her extremities.

"Ah." He smirked, trailing his fingers along her forearm. If he'd been envisioning the same scenarios as her, he didn't show it. "You're right. Let's move on."

Without warning, he scooped her up and cradled her in his arms, figuring out which bedroom was hers before she even told him. He nudged the door open with his hip, and deposited her on the bed so delicately, the sheets shifted against her skin in soft motions that sent shivers to spiral up her spine.

He closed the door and lowered to her side, swiping her wild curls from her face as she sat up.

"Cora," he whispered, his words timid, his gaze narrowing. "I would never force you, you know that, right? I cornered you in the kitchen, and things got heated, but... this is your decision. You're never obligated. Consent is everything."

Oh, he'd cornered her, all right. He'd put her in a position where she had no means to refuse, despite her brain shouting at her to. But to say she hadn't dreamed of this, to say she hadn't envisioned him showing up out of nowhere and whisking her off her feet and taking her on this forbidden journey to bliss would be an absolute lie.

She kneaded his shoulder, coaxing him to look at her. "I may have played hard to get without wanting to," she said, chewing on her lower lip. "Because this is wrong, it's so wrong, but... of course I want this. I'm just afraid of the consequences."

In the semi-darkness—only a flutter of light pooled in from behind her closed blinds—she saw him gaping at her lower lip, and raised a finger to the spot where she'd bitten it. His touch traveled from one end to the other, and she fought the urge to lurch forward and jam their mouths together again.

"We'll handle the consequences later. All that matters is this."

This was another wave of blush-worthy kissing, with tongues stuck in a wondrous waltz, with hands fumbling with shirt buttons and belt buckles, with subtle moans moseying out of lustful mouths.

This was Ryan's shirt slipping off, his muscular arms weaving around Coralie to pull her onto him as he maneuvered her top over her head, as he held her close to his nearly hairless chest, as he dug his fingertips into her lower spine, her waist.

With each motion their kisses deepened, their bodies brushed and blended into one another. Their cravings grew wild, untamed.

She straddled him, her high-waisted jeans the only barrier between their lower halves. The only barrier between them and their desire.

He soon manipulated her bra and tugged the thing off, exposing her breasts to him—and not for the first time, he whistled. He kept her at arm's length, awe in his gaze as he admired her.

"So much better in person," he said, grazing one nipple with his thumb.

She arched her spine in response, electricity surging through every nerve ending. "Glad they please you."

"Oh, please is not a strong enough word." He tipped up into a seated position. "The things I want to do to you, to these," his tongue fluttered over one nipple, then the other, "I can't even begin to describe." His tongue was firm but slow, each tiny tickle creating jolts that jarred her lower abdomen.

"Oh," she let out a shaky sigh, "then show me."

She couldn't sit still, couldn't contain her small spasms as he switched between nipples, suckling on them, swirling his tongue in a circular motion that affected her so much she had to unleash a squeal.

"Yeah?" He placed quick kisses between her breasts. His fingers then frolicked under the hem of her pants, gliding over the silky fabric of her underwear. "Is there anything else that you'd like me to show you?"

She almost yelped out everything, but she knew Ryan—he liked specifics. During their scenario descriptions in their chats, he'd always begged her for a reel of her thoughts, for insight on every fantasy that played in her mind. He wanted to satisfy her every urge, and for that, she'd have to use her words.

"Down," she mumbled, shuddering as he trailed his lips from her rib-cage to the baby-smooth spots of her lower stomach. "Down there."

He undid the button of her jeans and slid the zipper down. "In here?" As he grasped the belt loops and slipped the tight fabric down the sides of her thighs, he placed his lips over her underwear, a few inches below her belly. "Under this? Is that where you want me to go?"

"Yes," she managed, as he helped her out of her pants. He then cupped her butt, squeezing each cheek, pressing his lips harder against the satin material separating him from her skin.

His mouth slithered farther down, his tongue sneaking out to tickle between her lower lips, to gauge the wetness that had been pooling there since their first kiss in the kitchen.

"Wow," he muttered, pulling back briefly and grinning before he took hold of the sidebands of her underwear and drew them down, their silkiness caressing her thighs. "You're so wet. I can't wait to taste you."

She shifted left to right as he disposed of her panties, and though she'd expected him to make her beg, to make her wait, he didn't. He carefully pushed her onto her back, and his mouth returned to where he'd left off. Her head settled against a pillow as he laid on his stomach, his gaze fixed on her, watching her reaction.

He started with his fingers, rubbing gently between her lips; but it didn't take long for his tongue to slide into her instead. Every flicker made her delirious, drowning in a well of desire as he held her legs down to quell her shivering. He picked up the pace, using his fingers in tandem with his tongue.

She moaned as sweat dripped from her forehead and tickled her jaw.

"Fuck, Ryan." As she looked at him, admiring his skill, he returned the glance, thoroughly enjoying every sound that came out of her.

She suddenly remembered one of his favorite things, from their first video-session; she snuck her index into her mouth and swirled it around her tongue, ensuring he watched her doing it.

He squinted at her and his own tongue quivered faster, provoking explosions in her core and convulsions in her limbs. She'd meant to turn him on; but all it did was push him to satisfy her more.

She caught his lopsided curl of the lip as he redressed himself.

"Jeez, Cora." He unfastened his belt, unbuttoned his pants, and let them fall to his knees. "I want you." His voice was mystifying, magnetic, so appealing it took all her might not to pounce on him.

The bulge in his boxers seemed to have grown since they'd left the kitchen. What she'd felt back there was large, but this was closer to what she'd seen on the phone screen all those weeks ago.

Massive. And impressive.

She gulped. "And I want you too." He removed his boxers, and her eyes widened as she gawked at his member.

When he spotted her lingering on it, he chuckled. "Again, I wasn't kidding. But... do you have—"

"—nightstand drawer," she said, not missing a beat, eager to feel him inside her. "Hurry."

He obliged; she'd been so sure he'd want to toy with her, and yet he seemed as excited—if not more—than her.

After he rolled on the condom, he lowered onto her, but didn't enter her right away. He rubbed against her, swiftly, deftly, as she plunged her nails into his back, desperate for him to stop playing.

"Please," she pleaded, so enthralled by the sensation of him she wanted to scream it to the rooftops.

He kissed her as he took his time gliding into her. And though the motion hurt a tad at first—he was much larger than what she was used to—he was gentle, ensuring she was all right after every thrust.

After a few minutes, she became accustomed to him, to how he filled her, to how their bodies fit together. She became used to the chills his movements caused, and the pulsations of his body against hers.

He rocked back and forth, leisurely, gauging her facial expressions to make sure she wasn't in pain.

"Is this okay?" He caressed her cheek and kissed her forehead. "You dictate this rhythm. You tell me when you want more."

She nodded, eyelashes fluttering as she tried not to lose herself too fast. "More, yes. It's perfect. Don't stop." He pushed in a little deeper, and she let out a satisfied moan. "Don't stop."

They were clumsy—her wanting him to go faster; him wanting to take his time—but they adjusted to one another, panting together, grabbing each other's arms, shoulders, necks as they oscillated to their newfound tempo.

When he flipped her around, she almost kicked him in the groin; but he laughed it off and resumed sliding in and out of her, sending her to the heights of pleasure.

When he yanked her on top of him, she fought to catch her breath, to keep up; but whenever her thighs were too sore, he took over, pumping into her with such fervor she had no time to rest.

And she loved it.

She wasn't sure how many hours had passed, too wrapped up in the delight, the butterflies in her belly, the delectable pulsations in her lower half.

Ryan kicked the rhythm up another notch, his breaths harsher, perspiration sparkling across his forehead. He set her on her back again, one arm lifting her left leg up, the other near her shoulder; a deeper penetration that was so close to pain it was delirious, incredibly fulfilling.

So swept away in his motions, she no longer knew where she was, and no longer cared.

In the last moments, he grunted as his mouth approached her ear. She held on to him for dear life, sensing her body rising from the mattress, floating from intense gratification.

"Fuck," he said, finishing, then collapsing on top of her, his skin salty and sticky.

Coralie exhaled and stroked her fingers along his back, struggling to regain sensation in her overworked but highly happy limbs. "My thoughts exactly."

He trailed tiny kisses up her neck until he found her mouth, then pressed their noses together. "Did you...?"

Coralie laughed, blowing her messy mane from her face. "I tried counting how many times, but I couldn't keep up. Wow, RyRy. Wow."

She wondered if she'd ever be able to standagain.

♥♥♥