Page 97 of Unmatched

“Thirty-two,” I say.

She sits up, pushing me back against the pillows as she rises to her knees and swings a leg over to straddle me. I stare up at her, poised and confident in a way that makes my groin ache. I trace my hands over the curve of her hips, along her tapered waist, and cup her full, round tits.

“Would you say things have improved?” she asks.

“Yes—” I hiss as she positions herself directly over me, sliding her slick, heated center along the shaft of my throbbing cock.

She picks up both our phones, guiding her thumbs over the screens until the delete buttons appear, side by side. Then she hands mine over, and we erase the app together.

“I’ve got my fantasy girl right here,” I say, discarding the phone in the covers.

She leans in to find my lips. “Just call me Mrs. Richie.”

Heat shoots through my groin, and I can’t take it anymore. I grab her hips, holding her still so I can shift my cock into place outside her entrance. Our eyes meet, and she is so clearly aroused, so consumed by a desire I know I put there, I almost lose it. With a single thrust, I plunge deep inside her, wet and hot, and we groan together at the shock of pleasure. Lydia takes a moment to get seated on top of me, and as she starts to move, taking control of her own indulgence, I do lose myself. In her body. In a burst of love tangled up with lust. I used to think they were two separate things, but they’re more entwined than I ever thought. And now, looking up into her face as she takes pleasure from my body, I am certain we both feel it.

Lydia opens her eyes, gazing back at me with newfound heat. “Yeah. I’d say we’re pretty well matched.”

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