Ciara’s drive to Dundee felt longer than usual, her mind tangled in the stress she was trying to outrun. Ryan, her best friend, had insisted she come. He knew from the sound of her voice on the phone that life was crushing her, and he wasn’t about to let her deal with it alone.

By the time she pulled into his driveway, the kitchen lights were glowing, warm and welcoming. She grabbed her overnight bag, exhaled, and stepped inside.

She knocked once out of habit, but the door drifted open. Laughter floated down the hallway, guiding her to the kitchen, where familiar arms instantly wrapped around her. Ryan, smelling of cologne and comfort, followed by Louise, his landlord and housemate, who was all warmth and kisses.

But in the corner of the kitchen stood someone she didn’t know.

The stranger watched her with an intensity that stopped her mid-breath. Tall. Impossibly tall. Short red hair caught the light, and dark eyes looked like they could read thoughts she didn’t even know she had. His crisp white shirt stretched slightly across broad shoulders, and he carried himself with a quiet, unshakable confidence.

He rose slowly, never breaking eye contact.

“Ronan,” he said, his Irish accent hitting her like a warm hand on the back of her neck.

Something low and electric curled in her stomach.

She barely managed her own name before Louise shoved a generous glass of wine into her hand, and the room spun back into motion. For an hour, she caught up with Ryan, laughed at Louise’s outrageous stories, and sipped glass after glass of white wine without noticing Ronan drifting closer… and closer.

He listened to her as though she were the only person in the room. His attention was heavy, deliberate, almost intimate. Every time she glanced his way, he was already looking at her.

The sudden buzz of a phone broke the moment. Louise slipped into the hall to answer it, Ryan disappeared to the bathroom, and just like that, Ciara found herself alone with him.

Silence hovered—charged, expectant.

Ronan moved first, crossing to the counter for another bottle of wine. As he leaned into the cooler, Ciara’s gaze dipped before she could stop herself, pulled by curiosity and the soft fog of wine.

When he turned, he caught her in the act. A slow, knowing smile curved his lips, the kind of smile that said he missed nothing and misunderstood even less.

He returned to his seat, closer now, his thigh brushing hers in a way that felt intentional. His eyes drifted briefly, hungrily, down the neckline of her top towards her large tits. Heat climbed her neck. She tried to look away, but his eyes caught hers like a hand closing around her waist. Without thinking, she placed her hand on his thigh, and he shifted in his seat until she could feel his hardening cock beneath his trousers.

“Hello? Am I interrupting?” Ryan’s voice cut through the tension like a blade, and she quickly moved her hand away.

Later, as the drinks continued to flow, Ciara felt courage spreading through her. Beneath the table, she let her fingers rest on Ronan’s knee.

He shifted, parting his legs just slightly, inviting her touch to wander further. The look he gave her said everything: he wanted her, and he wanted her to know it.

By the time the night wound down and Louise vanished to bed, Ciara’s pulse was a steady, restless thrum. She stepped away to the bathroom, still flushed from the wine and Ronan’s attention. When she returned, the kitchen was quiet.

Ronan stood alone.

She opened her mouth, probably to ask where Ryan had gone, but her words never formed. Ronan crossed the room in two slow steps, one hand curving around her waist, the other sliding gently up the back of her neck as he pulled her in.

His kiss landed warm and commanding, deepening as his teeth grazed her lip. Her breath caught; her fingers curled into his shirt. Something inside her broke loose; desire, need, a hunger she hadn’t felt in years.

In one smooth motion, he turned her, lifting her onto the kitchen counter and pulling her top off. Her big, round tits sat perfectly in her red lace bra, and Ronan needed them. He reached around, freed her perky, bouncing tits from the bra, and took her right nipple into his mouth.

His hands were sure, exploring her curves with a hunger he didn’t bother hiding. When his mouth traced along her throat, she melted into him, clutching him closer, aching for more.

Ciara had been teased by his cock enough and needed to feel it. Her hands reached for his waistband, and his breath brushed her ear.

“Not yet,” he murmured. “You’re not ready.”

The words sent a shiver through her, sharper than the wine, deeper than the kiss. Whatever he wanted from her, whatever he was building toward, she wanted it too.

He moved to her other nipple and ran his hand up her thigh. She could feel dampness growing in her pants and yearned for his touch.

Time blurred. His hands, his mouth, the heat between them building in waves until her breath came in soft, helpless sounds and her body arched toward his as if it had a will of its own. He tasted her skin, drew reaction after reaction from her with a slow, masterful patience that made her dizzy.

Ronan pulled her down from the counter and undid her jeans. They slid off her thighs, revealing a matching pair of red pants with a growing wet patch. He knelt and began spreading kisses up her inner leg, stopping just before the wetness. Just as Ciara thought she would feel his warm breath on her clit, he passed it, trailing kisses up her toned abdomen, towards her round tits, and then her neck.

They entwined in a passionate kiss, and Ciara gasped as she felt something hard against her mound. Ronan’s cock strained in his trousers, and she reached for it again. Without hesitation, he caught her wrist, stopping her.

He laid her back on the table and removed her red pants, revealing a shaven mound. He opened her legs, and his tongue met her clit. He swirled his tongue, kissing and sucking as she moaned. As she grew wetter and wetter, his fingers plunged into her, thrusting in and out. Her back arched, her big tits bouncing. She had never squirted before, but the mixed sensation of his strong fingers and warm mouth overtook her, and she relaxed into the strongest orgasm of her life.

Her climax hit suddenly, overwhelming, tearing a quiet cry from her lips. She collapsed against him, trembling, stunned by the intensity.

But she wasn’t done with him.

Not even close.

This time, when she reached for him, Ronan didn’t stop her. She undid the buttons at his waist, her breath hitching at the size and weight of him. Desire flooded her again—hot and reckless.

She had never seen anything like it. Not just because it was about eight and a half inches long, but the girth was unlike anything she’d experienced before. If it weren’t for the post-orgasm haze and white wine, she might have been scared, but instead, she dropped to her knees and tried to take him into her mouth.

Ronan exhaled sharply, eyes darkening as she touched him. His hand tightened in her hair, guiding her, his breath deepening into something close to a growl. She took more of him with each suck, his balls tightening as he neared release—but he wanted her first.

He pulled her to her feet and placed her back on the table. His fingers thrust inside her again, bringing her close to another orgasm.

“Are you sure?” he asked, voice low and rough.

She bit her lip and nodded.

Her body arched as he thrust into her, over and over, stretching her wet pussy around his massive cock. Her cries filled the kitchen. After minutes of relentless movement, she felt him tense.

His fingers found her clit, rubbing as she shattered again, and with that, he exploded inside her, spilling his warm load deep within her.

They collapsed together, breathless, glowing, their bodies still humming.

As Ciara lay there, it suddenly hit her that she’d just had sex on her best friend’s dining table, and she had no idea where they’d gone. Heat rushed to her cheeks. She pulled her top back over her head and searched for her clothes, failing to shield herself from Ronan’s lingering, amused gaze. He grinned as he fastened his trousers, the moment still hanging deliciously between them.

She finally found her jeans and headed for the door. In the hallway, she spotted Ryan lounging in the living room. He shot her a knowing smile.

“I figured you needed that,” he teased softly.

Back in the kitchen, Ronan was tidying away the evidence when he noticed a flash of red in the fruit bowl—her underwear. With a quiet chuckle, he slipped them into his pocket, a private keepsake for later.