Page 16 of My Mismatched Valentine

I stroke harder, bringing myself to the edge at an alarming rate. I’ll have to prove to Maggie that I can last a lot fucking longer. But right now, all that matters is comingwithher. Both of us exploding together, even if from across the room. She cries out at her own climax, watching me as hot ropes of cum shoot from my cock and slather her panties.

“Do you get it now, sweetheart?”

A wicked, sated smile spreads across her lips. She’s panting too heavily to speak, but nods enthusiastically instead.

CHAPTER 11

Maggie

Perfect match.

Those two words repeat in my mind as I watch the group of people squeal and delight over the husky puppies. It’s an eventBarks & Bushy Tails Homestead—home to legendary musher Dana Barkley—usually only hosts during the summer for tourists. I begged a favor and promised to bring a dozen people to help socialize an unplanned winter litter of puppies.

I organized the small event with the intent of giving Dustin a few candidates to choose from. I added in a few extras so it wouldn’t be so obvious—like Kash and Charlotte who actually decided to put on clothes and leave the house today. I had hoped that without tipping off the five single women I invited, one or two of them might naturally gravitate to Dustin on their own.

That was before I decided to submit my own dating profile into my database this morning after our return from Anchorage.

Perfect match.

“Maggie, this is positively wonderful!” Glamma sidles up to me, two puppies happily squeezed in her arms. One chews on her furry hood liner while the other vigorously licks hercheek like there’s peanut butter on it. “There’s so much happy, excitable energy here! These puppies are so damncuddly.”

“It’s almost enough to make you forget this place is cold enough to freeze your tits right off, right?” Grandma Olive—my free-spirted grandmother—chimes in, holding a squirmy puppy of her own.

These two were an unexpected pairing that the matchmaker in me never saw coming. Though I’ve never claimed to be great at predicting instant best friends. The moment they met on the bus ride over here, they fell into deep, excitable conversation as though they were two old friends catching up rather than complete strangers.

“I think she likes you,” Dustin’s low voice whispers against my ear, instantly thawing the frozen lobe with one heated breath. My body shivers, but the cold has nothing to do with why.

Perfect match.

I haven’t told him, of course. I’m still not sure how I feel about this discovery. Sure, I slept in his arms last night during the few extra hours we had before Glamma’s delayed flight arrived in Anchorage. But nothing happened.

You can’t call that toy playnothing, Maggie.

Well, nothing happened after we both came hard enough for me to actually fall off the bed.

Yes, we crossed a line professionally speaking. In any other situation, I’d have fired Dustin as a client and gone no contact. But the fate of his family’s company still rests in my hands. Hands that were much steadier three days ago. Now they’re fucking shaky as hell. He needs to get married tomorrow, or he loses everything. And that fate rests inmytrembling hands.

“Have you chatted with anyone else here?” I ask Dustin, nodding toward the gaggle of women who are down on their knees inside a puppy pen. Freya is giggling with her back on theground, all too happy to have the little fur balls crawling all over her. “You should say hi to Freya.”

“I thought we were done with this nonsense,” Dustin says, keeping his voice low enough to keep the grandmas from overhearing. “Just marry me already, Maggie. You know you want to.”

“You know I can’t,” I hiss. But, fuck it all, my own words are holding less and less gravity. What’s the worst that could happen? My career—the one thing I hold dearest to me—is over because I took a chance on love? I don’t know what I’d do. Sure, Dustin has plenty of money. It’s not like I’d have to worry about finances. But I’m not the type to sit at home all day or spend my days shopping. I need purpose.

Matching soulmates has been my purpose since I was seven.

Back then, it was all about predicting who’d end up together on the reality dating shows. I accurately picked the couples that ended up together four out of five times. The ones I missed weren’t mistakes. The bachelor or bachelorette made a wrong choice. A fact that was always backed up by some news article a year or two after their season concluded.

But if I marry my client, who will ever take me seriously again?

And what if I can’t find Dustin someone else to marry and I refuse to fill the spot—despite how tempting it sounds—he’ll lose the family business that means so much to him. Lose-lose. What a fucking spot to be in.

“Dustin, will you help me with this wiggly puppy? I think he needs to pee,” Grandma Olive says to him.

“Of course.”

She leads him away, and I catch some quip about the full moon. Grandma Olivelovesto talk superstitions. Especially when it comes to the moon and the stars and the alignment of the planets.Poor Dustin.

“How’s the search going?” Glamma asks, handing one of the eager puppies to me. Karl is going to have something to say about this later. When he’s extra pissed at me, he tends to shit right outside a clean litter box to express his disapproval.

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