Page 41 of Mismatched

I don’t have to see her face to know it must be burning. Not many seconds pass before I clearly see her nod in the shadows.

“Going to need verbal confirmation, Lydia,” I say, stepping back, pulling my hand away from her heated flesh. I’m dying a little, looking at her without touching, but this is another thing we’ve been working on. It wasn’t long ago I discovered, to my horror, that she sometimes went through the motions when she wasn’t fully on board. “I won’t do it if I’m not sure it’s what you want.”

Lydia exhales, but stays as I’ve positioned her, and there’s just enough light that I see when her thighs squeeze together.

“Yes,” she whispers, voice raw and urgent. “Do it. Please.”

That’s all I need.

My hand comes down on each side of her ass in quick succession, the smack of her flesh beneath my palm in the quiet shop delivering a surprising jolt to my dick.

“How’s that?” I ask in a husky voice.

All I get back is a whimpered, “Again.”

I lay two more slaps to her rounded cheeks. But then, instead of raising my hand a third time, I place both my palms against her heated skin, rubbing away the sting while I sense her body coming alive. Slowly, I drift one hand down the stretch of thin purple thong, sucking in a hallowed breath when I find the fabric already soaked.

“Oh, Mrs. Richie,” I murmur. “This is what happens when you work too much.”

I stroke my finger up and down over the outside of her panties, pressing them into her skin so she can feel how wet she’s made them. And then I peel them away, sliding the lacy purple fabric down over her ass and letting it pool at her toes. I take a fraction of a second to admire the peek of her glistening mound before I move in with my tongue.

“Oh,” she utters, with a slight startle. I’ve never come at her from behind like this. It’s weird and backward and wonderful, running my tongue from her clit all the way up to dip inside her, spreading her taste up between her cheeks with my mouth.

My cock is full-on throbbing as the scene sinks in. Lydia, naked in the back of Ooh La Pooch, bent over a grooming table with my face between her legs. If there was a fantasy I could’ve unlocked all those desperate months ago, before we found our way back to each other, this was definitely it. I’m so fucking turned on, I have to yank myself to stand so I can get my pants off before I come.

“Guess we should’ve discussed your work habits sooner,” I say, and I think I actually hear her mewl when I rub the tip of my cock in her juices, painting them all over the insides of her thighs. “Turn around, Lydia.”

She takes a breath, then follows my instruction. I guide her back onto the table, positioning her right on the edge, and—fun fact—many dog grooming tables adjust higher and lower with the press of an electric switch. The one Lydia is spread over is already pretty high, so with a light hum, I lower her pussy so it’s exactly level with my cock.

“We’ve got to get one of these for home,” I mutter, and she covers her face and laughs.

I smirk at the sound, glad to lighten the mood for a moment, but I don’t want to lose her, so I reach out and knead her ample breasts, coaxing and pulling at her nipples until she gasps.

“Are you ready?” I ask, positioning myself outside her entrance.

“Yes,” she breathes, raising her gaze to stare up at me.

And I can’t stand it a second longer. I ease into her in one barely restrained plunge.

“Fuck,” I mutter as I get seated. Then it’s only a moment before I start to move. At this perfect angle, we seem to fit like we were made for one another, and I quickly find a rhythm, grabbing her legs and holding them up on either side of me as I thrust.

When I open my eyes again, her head is turned toward the back wall, and I realize with a surge of lust she’s watching us in the mirror. Her own body splayed out naked on the tabletop, legs in the air, tits bouncing as I thrust.

I lean over her. “From now on, every time you come into this shop to work, I want you to look in that mirror and imagine yourself on this table, getting fucked.”

Her body jolts at my words. Scandalized, embarrassed, but also a new, shiny thing—clearly turned on. I slide my hands between us, my thumb coming to rest against her clit, my other hand squeezing one taught nipple. She bucks in response, and I pound into her with new intensity, watching her writhe under me, clamping around me.

In that moment, I want nothing more than to pull out and shoot my load, empty myself all over her glorious, naked form. But the one thing in the world better than fucking Lydia in her workplace after hours is doing it with a purpose.

So when she comes, bucking her hips off the table with a shout, I let go deep inside her, sending my seed into her depths with a satisfied groan.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

I grip my right side. “Ugh. Can we slow down?”

“Lydia, if we go any slower, that’s called standing, not running.”

“Sorry.” I wipe sweat off my brow with my forearm. “Maybe it’s the heat.”

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