Mort Thorne stiffened for a mont, then pressed his firm chin against her head and nuzzled it, pulling her tightly into his arms. His deep, magnetic voice carried a hint of helplessness and indulgence, "Still not weaned and already crying?"
"I’m just a little girl... Mmm."
The man lowered his head and directly blocked her small mouth.
How long had it been since they last kissed?
Dianna’s mind turned to mush; his kiss was dominating and strong, leaving her dizzy.
Her legs went soft, and her body slid to the ground.
Mort Thorne grabbed her slender waist and pinned her against the wall. His tall, robust fra pressed against her, holding her tight as he kissed her unabashedly in the corner.
The sounds of wet kisses echoed in her ears, making her blush with embarrassnt.
After kissing for a while, Dianna found it hard to breathe, and Mort Thorne released her, allowing her two breaths of fresh air.
Her lips were already swollen. Mort Thorne furrowed his handso brows slightly and asked in a hoarse voice, "Didn’t you think about coming of age?"
Coming of age?
Dianna’s delicate face turned a deep shade of red, her icy eyes dark as they gazed at the man, without answering.
Mort Thorne kissed the tip of her lovely little nose, "I thought about it... Dianna, I missed you too..."
When he spoke to her in that uniquely raspy voice, murmuring words of love, Dianna felt completely healed, utterly healed.
Dianna reached out and hugged him tightly.
The next second, a feeling of weightlessness ca over her as Mort Thorne lifted her in his arms.
Mort Thorne carried her upstairs with steady steps.
...
In the master bedroom.
Dianna was tossed into the soft bed. She didn’t get up but turned over, hugging his pillow.
The bed sunk slightly as Mort Thorne knelt on one knee, his long fingers pulling back the collar of her knitted top to reveal a strappy cream slip dress beneath.
He lowered his eyes to look at her, a wicked curve forming on his alluring lips, "You’ve showered?"
When he asked, there was always an ambiguous aning, and Dianna buried her head under the covers, "I just took a shower, not what you think."
"What do you think I’m thinking?"
"..."
Mort Thorne reached to pull the covers from her face, his voice even raspier, "Isn’t it hard to breathe?"
Dianna’s eyes, shimring with light, gazed at him with a face full of springti.
Mort Thorne was completely hooked by her, standing upright with his thumbs and forefingers resting apart on the belt at his waist. With a quick movent, he unfastened it, "Wait for , I’ll take a quick shower first."
"What are you doing?" Dianna protected herself.
Mort Thorne glanced up and down at her, his gaze seemingly stripping her naked, "I’m just taking a shower, nothing else."
"..."
He turned and entered the bathroom.
Dianna watched his tall, handso figure disappear into the bathroom, her small face blushing red enough to drip blood.
...
Five minutes later, with a "click", the bathroom door opened, bringing with it a chill, but Mort Thorne did not erge.
"Dianna." The man called from inside.
"Mm?"
"Co here."
"For what?"
"Shave ."
"Can’t you shave yourself?"
Though Dianna said that, she still got off the bed and walked towards the bathroom.
A tall, robust figure stood by the sink. Mort Thorne had changed clothes, wearing a black silk pajama, with a towel in hand, casually rubbing his damp hair. The steam-covered man looked even younger and more handso than usual.
He tossed the towel accurately into a bamboo basket beside him, then handed a razor to her soft little hand, "Shave ."
Dianna hesitated slightly, "I’ve never shaved a man before, I don’t know how."
"You also hadn’t slept with a man before."
"..."
Dianna puffed her pretty cheeks angrily and glared at him, then walked over.
Mort Thorne pulled her closer, trapping her between his chest and the sink. Dianna inhaled the refreshing male scent from him, feeling sweetness in her heart.
"First apply foam on my beard," he instructed her.
"Okay." Dianna nodded, placing a bit of foam directly on the man’s prominent nose.
Mort Thorne’s handso features darkened, and his large hand ca down hard on her pert little behind, "Little brat, acting up?"
Dianna giggled in his arms, "I didn’t an to."
Mort Thorne pulled down her pale yellow knitted top, tossing it onto the carpet. It revealed her cream-colored strappy dress underneath. The girl’s petite fra was soft, and in his strong arms, she seed like a fragile flower. He bent down, rubbing his face against hers, "Do you think I’m a three-year-old?"
Dianna felt her cheeks tingling under his touch and quickly pleaded for rcy, "Mort Thorne, I was wrong, I won’t dare anymore."
Only then did Mort Thorne release her.
As soon as she was freed, Dianna quickly dabbed foam from her finger onto the man’s forehead. She slipped away from under his arm and ran.
"Damn it, flipping the heavens, see how I handle you!" He cursed lowly, striding out after her.
Dianna ran to the bedside just as the man caught up, his strong arms encircling her slender waist. The two of them tumbled onto the soft bed together.
Mort Thorne pinned her down, and the girl’s laughter was like the tinkling of bells, her lively, young girl manner made him tingle all over. Damn, living all these years, he finally knew what they ant by ’a tender embrace is a hero’s grave.’
She almost took his soul away.
He bent down, blocking her small mouth with his.
Dianna’s muffled sounds under his kisses, her small arms and legs kicking at him, acting coquettishly and squeamishly, "Mort Thorne, you’re hurting ."
"Mort Thorne, Mort Thorne, just try calling my full na again?"
"Then what should I call you?"
"Think for yourself. Don’t you call other people ’senior’ with so much enthusiasm?"
"..."
That little jar of jealousy, bringing up old matters again. "Senior" denotes seriousness, taking no bla.
This man is too petty.
Dianna’s gaze rested steadily on him, "How about calling you...husband?"
Mort Thorne froze entirely.
Husband~
The word buzzed in his eardrums and exploded, as the girl teasingly called him "husband," her voice sweet and soft, as if draining all the strength from him.
"What, you don’t like that term?"
"Say it again."
"I’m not saying it again."
"Dianna, you’ve teased several tis today, see how I deal with you!" the man said, biting his cheek with a fierce expression.
He bent down and started kissing her.
"Wait a minute, Mort Thorne."
"What now?" Mort Thorne knit his sword-like brows, his face full of unsatisfied desire and impatience.
Dianna reached out, "This is for you."
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