Valentines Mistake

The sober make out

The penthouse felt too quiet after the livestream ended.

Mathias remained standing in the middle of the living room, his phone hanging loosely at his side. The confidence he carried into court, into meetings, into every room he entered — it was gone. What stood in its place was something far more fragile.

Cofie watched him carefully.

He didn’t look angry.

He looked wounded.

“She planned it,” he said finally, voice low. “All of it.”

Cofie didn’t respond immediately. She let him continue.

“I thought when we ended things, it was about control. About power. I never imagined she would go this far.” He dragged a hand over his face, exhaling sharply. “She knew what that accusation would do to me.”

His composure cracked on the last word.

Cofie crossed the room slowly.

When she reached him, she didn’t speak. She simply wrapped her arms around him.

This time he didn’t hesitate.

His arms locked around her almost instantly, pulling her tightly against him, like he needed to feel something real and solid. His face pressed into her shoulder, his breath warm and uneven against her neck.

For a long moment, neither of them moved.

“I feel exposed,” he admitted quietly. “Like she reached inside my life and twisted it.”

Cofie’s hand slid up his back, fingers pressing gently into tense muscle.

“You trusted her,” she said. “That’s not a crime.”

He lifted his head, eyes searching hers. There was no pride in them now. No controlled charisma. Just raw honesty.

“I don’t know how to let my guard down after this.”

Her hand moved to his jaw, thumb brushing slowly along the edge of it.

“You don’t have to guard yourself with me.”

The words hung between them.

His hand shifted at her waist, fingers tightening slightly as if testing whether she meant it.

“You stayed,” he said. “Even when this could have destroyed you too.”

“I chose to stay.”

Something changed in his expression at that.

Chosen.

His grip on her waist deepened. The space between them narrowed until her body was flush against his. She could feel the tension in him — not just emotional, but physical, restrained desire layered over vulnerability.

“Cofie…” His voice dropped lower.

Her pulse quickened.

She didn’t move away.

Instead, she slid her hands up his chest, feeling the steady rise and fall beneath her palms. The contact was deliberate. Slow. Grounding.

He leaned down and kissed her.

Not tentative.

Not careful.

The kiss was deep, searching — like he was trying to anchor himself in her. She responded just as fiercely, her fingers sliding into his hair, pulling him closer.

His hands moved along her waist, over the curve of her hips, fingers pressing firmly enough to make her inhale sharply. The silk robe she wore shifted under his touch, loosening, exposing warm skin beneath his palms.

He paused just long enough to look at her.

Her eyes were steady. Wanting.

That was all he needed.

He kissed her again, slower this time, his mouth moving from her lips down to her jaw, then to her neck. Each kiss lingered. Each one intentional. She tilted her head, giving him access, her breath catching as his lips found a sensitive spot just below her ear.

Her body responded instinctively. She pressed closer, one hand sliding down his back, feeling the tension there. He lifted her slightly, guiding her backward until her back met the wall.

The contact made her gasp softly.

His hands traced slowly along her thighs, deliberate, firm. When he lifted her, she wrapped her legs around his waist without hesitation, pulling him tightly against her. The shift deepened the heat between them.

“You’re not pretending anymore,” she murmured against his mouth.

“Not with you,” he replied, voice rough.

He carried her toward the bedroom without breaking the kiss, laying her down gently but with unmistakable intention. His body hovered over hers, gaze dark, intense, but still searching her face.

“Tell me if you want me to stop,” he said quietly.

Instead of answering with words, she pulled him down to her again.

The kiss grew slower, deeper, more consuming. His hands moved with growing confidence, exploring the warmth of her skin, learning the curve of her body. Every touch was deliberate — not rushed, not careless — but filled with restrained hunger finally being allowed to surface.

Her fingers traced along his shoulders, down his arms, feeling strength under her hands. She arched slightly into him, encouraging, and he responded with a low sound that sent heat through her entire body.

The tension between them — days of shared glances, teasing words, almost-moments — unraveled completely.

This wasn’t about distraction.

It wasn’t about the press or the ex or the scandal.

It was about closeness. About choosing each other in the aftermath of betrayal.

His movements became slower, more intimate. Less urgency, more connection. He buried his face briefly against her neck, breathing her in as if steadying himself.

“I don’t feel broken when I’m with you,” he admitted quietly.

She ran her fingers through his hair again, softer now.

“You’re not broken.”

He kissed her again — not with desperation this time, but with certainty.

And as the city lights flickered beyond the windows, the distance between them disappeared entirely.

Whatever had begun as strategy had crossed into something undeniable.

Something real.

And neither of them were pretending anymore.

.

.

.

[please be warned that the following scene is rated for mature audience due to explicit s*x]

In a minute he send her clothes flying across the room.His mouth crashed back onto hers with renewed urgency, this time with an edge of desperation. The kiss became messy and hungry as his hands worked frantically to remove the rest of her undies. He pulled the fabric impatiently, breaking the kiss only long enough to watch it pool around her knees.

"God, you're even more stunning than I remember" he rasped, his gaze devouring every inch of exposed skin. His hands roamed over her bare shoulders and chest possessively before returning to finish undressing her completely.

Meanwhile, he kicked off his shoes and trousers in quick succession, leaving him standing in only his boxer briefs. The prominent bulge straining against the material made it clear just how much he'd been anticipating this moment.

"wow its ....its huge" she whispered

Mathias's lips curved into a smug, satisfied smirk at her breathless observation. He glanced down at the obvious bulge straining against his boxer briefs, his eyes gleaming with pride and anticipation.

"Is that a complaint or an appreciation?" he teased, his voice dropping to that low, husky register that seemed designed specifically to send shivers down her spine. "Because I assure you, it's perfectly proportional."

He hooked his thumbs into the waistband of his remaining garment and pushed it down slowly, revealing the full extent of his arousal. The thick length sprang free, hard and ready, catching the dim light filtering through the floor-to-ceiling windows.

"Tell me what you think now," Mathias challenged softly, stepping closer until the heat radiating from his body was palpable. His c**k bobbed slightly with each movement, drawing her gaze irresistibly. "Does it meet your expectations, now that you're sober ?"

" stop talking and show me what you can do with that thing"

Mathias's eyes flashed with primal satisfaction at her direct command.

"Hold on tight," he warned roughly, his voice thick with anticipation.

He positioned himself at her entrance, the head of his c**k pressing insistently against her. With one powerful thrust, he buried himself deep inside her wet heat. A guttural sound escaped his throat as he began to move - slow at first, letting her adjust to his size before establishing a demanding rhythm.

His hands gripped her hips possessively as he drove into her again and again, each stroke deeper than the last. The only sounds in the opulent bedroom were the slap of skin against skin and ragged breathing as he fulfilled her explicit demand.

she gasp softly, "More, Mathias," and arch her back, meeting each thrust

Mathias's breath caught at the sound of his name on her lips, a primal satisfaction flashing in his dark eyes. "That's it, say my name," he growled, his voice low and rough with effort as he adjusted his grip on her hips.

He responded to her arching back by increasing the pace, driving into her with more force. The bed creaked rhythmically beneath them, each thrust punctuated by the wet sound of flesh meeting flesh. Sweat beaded on his forehead as he focused entirely on satisfying her demands.

"f**k, you feel incredible," he muttered against her shoulder, burying his face in the crook of her neck to taste the salt on her skin. His movements became more urgent, less controlled as he chased the release building between them.

"f**k ...ohhhh.... yeeesss....ohhhhh....Mathias im gonna c*m"

One hand slid up to cup her breast roughly, pinching the n****e between his fingers while continuing his relentless rhythm. "Keep saying my name," he commanded hoarsely.

Mathias's eyes flew open at the sound of her climax, a feral grin spreading across his face as he felt her inner walls tighten around him. "That's it, Cofie," he groaned, his voice strained with impending release. "Come for me babe."

He drove into her one last time with a final, powerful thrust that sent both of them over the edge. His own orgasm hit him hard, his body going rigid as he spilled himself deep inside her with a guttural shout.

"ohhhh shit....fuck ....yes ...Cofie"

For several long moments, all that could be heard was the sound of heavy breathing and racing heartbeats filling the silent bedroom. Mathias collapsed forward onto her chest, his forehead resting against her shoulder as he fought to catch his breath.

"f**k," he breathed out eventually, pressing a gentle kiss to her collarbone before slowly pulling back to meet her gaze. "You're even more dangerous when sober."