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I worked my mouth and hand up and down him.
A few minutes later, he moved over to one side of the sofa.
“Lie down,” he commanded.
I obliged, my pelvis facing him. As I lay there in anticipation, my body throbbing with how badly I needed his touch, he leaned down over me.
Positioning himself over my nervous body, he crashed his lips against and into mine for a hard kiss, unlike anything I’d ever experienced before. I felt his hands come up to explore my chest.
He lowered his mouth and latched onto my sensitive nipple. He sucked long and hard and squeezed the nub of the other one with his free hand.
“Oh, my God.” I almost squealed, overcome by how delicious the sensations felt.
His hot tongue didn’t stop. It glided down my stomach and atop my black lace panties. He pulled the fabric aside and stroked my tender pussy, drawing an instinctive scream from my lips.
The juices of my vagina coated me as he pulled off my underwear and tossed it aside. The next second, he’d plunged, face-forward, into my pussy. He sucked intensely, going to town on me.
Soft moans filled the room. I rolled my head back and writhed in the onslaught of pleasure as he sucked and licked me, his nails digging into my thighs while his lips and tongue commanded every bit of my attention.
I felt my body tense, about to cross a tide. My mind was unraveling. I was at the mercy of this stranger and how he devoured me, but then, with no warning, he stopped and raised his mouth.
“Oh, no,” I gasped without thinking.
He gave me a sly smile and sat up on the couch.
“Get on top of me.”
I positioned myself over him, my knees on both sides of his. Biting my lips, I guided his penis to my soaked opening.
“I–I just wanted to say—”
“Lose yourself in the moment.”
And in that second, it didn’t matter that I’d never experienced this before.
A brief second of resistance later, he slid in. I let out a loud moan, only to be matched by a grunt from his lips.
“Rory? Rory! Get up, we’re home!”
“Wh–what?” I jumped up and looked around me.
Chelsea was grinning. I was still in the cab. Good God, I’d been dreaming.
“It sounded like you were having quite the wet dream there. You should have seen our driver looking at you in the rearview mirror.” She chuckled.
I blushed deeply. “I just fell asleep, okay?” I muttered defensively.
Chelsea winked at me. “Sure, Rors. Let’s go with that.”
I closed my eyes and leaned back against the comfortable car seat, my heart beating a million beats per minute.
“You know...” Chelsea grinned as we drew nearer to my apartment. “You should totally visit Love Locked when you can.”
When Chelsea moved to New York, one of the many things she’d done was set up a little side hustle. She liked to play Cupid—that was a given. We’d established that.
But what I should mention is she wasobsessedwith matchmaking. So much so that her entire venture was about helping people find “The One, whether in singular or plural.”
Her agency just happened to be a bit unconventional because it didn’t discriminate between genders, preferences, or social constraints. Her only rule was that everyone needed to be fully aware of what they were getting into.
