Mort Thorne looked at her, "It’s not soone else... it’s your husband. Aren’t you carrying your husband’s child?"
"..." Dianna Hollis was speechless. She and Raymond Alden were in a fake marriage; how could there be a baby?
Dianna pushed his large hand away, "I ask you, if I really were pregnant, what would you do?"
Mort raised an eyebrow and looked at her, "You’re asking the wrong person, you should go ask your husband. It’s not my child!"
"...I’m not pregnant; it’s just an upset stomach." Dianna said.
Mort eyed her skeptically, unable to tell which of her words were true and which were false.
Dianna reached out with her two small hands and hugged his strong waist, then opened his black shirt. The diamond ring on his red string was always worn close to his skin, "Your amputated area is swollen and inflad. I want to see it."
"What’s there to see?"
"I just want to see it."
Mort let go of her and sat on the edge of the bed. His two strong and muscular long legs spread apart carelessly, and seeing her hesitate, he motioned with his eyes, "Didn’t you want to see? What are you dawdling for? Co here."
He grabbed her small hand and pulled her over.
Dianna stood between his legs, and he suddenly clamped her in place with his thighs.
Rogue.
Dianna’s small oval face blushed with two quick red hues, the position was too ambiguous.
"Undo my belt." He ordered softly.
Dianna glanced at him and then slowly stretched out her small hand to undo the black belt at his waist.
But after tugging twice, she still couldn’t get it open; she didn’t have the experience.
"How do you do this?" She squatted down to unbuckle it.
At this ti, two slender fingers pinched her small chin, forcing her to raise her head, eting the man’s deep, silent black eyes, "What, you haven’t done this for your husband in these three years?"
At first, his jealousy wasn’t so obvious, but now with his repeated ntions of "your husband," Dianna wondered if he had a secret crush on Raymond Alden.
Dianna slapped his large hand away and continued to unbuckle the belt.
"You’re going back tomorrow, you’re not allowed to get tangled up with this scorpion anymore." His words suddenly took a sharp turn.
Dianna refused, "I’m on a mission, I can’t go back."
"Does the FIU have no one else, that they need you to use feminine wiles?" Mort’s thin, cold lips showed a faint sneer; he didn’t think much of these tactics or of her, "The scorpion likes virgins. Are you still a virgin?"
As he spoke, his gaze roved boldly from her small face downward, filled with an innate evil charm, "If the scorpion finds out you were with a man at nineteen, you’ll be waiting to be used by him then thrown to his n."
"And what would happen if the scorpion knew the man I was with at nineteen was you, a poor driver?" Dianna challenged.
Hearing this, Mort’s gaze deepened, his eyes falling on her red lips, "Your little mouth is getting sharper and sharper."
Dianna noticed him staring at her red lips. She raised an eyebrow, "What, want to kiss ?"
Mort quickly looked away, "No..."
The next second, Dianna raised her two small hands and wrapped them around his neck, forcefully capturing his lips full of denial.
She kissed him first!
Mort froze.
Dianna didn’t close her eyes, she just looked at him, sensing his struggle, teetering between indulgence and clarity, until his large hand landed on her waist, firmly pushing her away.
Mort’s handso face looked composed, "Dianna, what do you take for now?"
Dianna smirked, "What do you an?"
She was playing dumb!
"You have a husband now. If you just want to play with , treating as a lover in the shadows, I’m telling you, Dianna, dream on!"
Dianna just didn’t want to tell him the marriage was fake. In this relationship, his constant wavering and departures left her dealing with things alone here; how could she easily forgive him?
"Mort, have you forgotten, you owe this!"
Mort frowned, "So, you’re taking revenge on this way?"
"Yes." Dianna nodded.
Mort’s handso face sank, he raised his large hand to press against her forehead, "Go away!"
Dianna was pushed away.
Mort got up from the bed, pulling off his black T-shirt. His chest was robust, his waistline tight, with well-developed abs. His whole body scread masculinity, strong and powerful.
He was built all over. Dianna sneakily glanced at his pants, her gaze intense.
Mort already felt her fiery gaze, sure she was sowhat tempted by his body, wanting to make him her lover or sothing similar.
"What are you looking at?"
"What, other won can look, but I can’t?" Dianna retorted.
This man was in his pri at thirty, still vigorous at forty, and she wanted to look, and she wanted a proper look.
"And you’re not allowed to go flirting around anymore."
"What did I flirt with?"
"Doing push-ups! You’re not allowed to take off your clothes in front of other won, nor touch other won, let alone do push-ups!"
Mort, "Jealous of even this?"
He said, his long fingers adjusted the waist of his pants briefly, "Do you want to see sothing even better?"
"What?"
Mort lay down on the bed, his large hands propping up the sheets, he began to do push-ups.
They were called push-ups, but the movents were more captivating than push-ups.
To be precise, the line from his back was hollowed inward, his hips raised, moving his body in a seductive arc from top to bottom—a classic masculine push-up.
Dianna felt a rush to her brain, almost getting a nosebleed.
She had seen plenty of handso n, the kind won wanted to marry, but Mort was the type won wanted to sleep with.
This man was full of hormones, an explosion of allure.
Mort did a few, then glanced at her from the side, "Co here."
Dianna, "What, you want to ride on your back?"
She walked over.
Mort grabbed her slender wrist with force, pulling her directly beneath him, "These kind of push-ups aren’t you riding , but pressing you."
With that, he pressed down on her, his two large hands planted on either side of her, moving his robust waist, doing a few more push-ups.
With every rise and fall, the distance between them extended and shortened, and the room’s temperature soared several degrees.
Dianna’s small face flushed red as she pushed him lightly, "Mort, how did I not notice you’re this... secretly sultry?"
Mort looked down at her, "Not jealous anymore? Have I pleased you?"
Dianna thought for a mont, "Not yet, unless..."
"Unless what?"
Dianna pushed against his chest with her two hands, and Mort lay down accordingly. She nimbly rolled over, straddling his solid waist. "The kind of push-ups they just talked about, I want you to do them for now."
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