Dianna furrowed her delicate brows, her small hands pressed against his strong chest, and with a push, she tried to jump off the counter.
But she didn’t succeed; the man scooped her up with his muscular arm again and held her tightly.
"Jealous?" His deep voice carried a hint of amusent.
"Let go of !" Dianna swung her small, pink fist and punched him hard, but his body was like cast iron. He felt no pain, while she hurt her own little hand, "Hmph, yes, I’m jealous, and the kind that can’t be soothed!"
The subtext of Dianna’s words was, co and coax !
Mort Thorne’s deep, handso features softened with a gentle smile, his large hand cradling her delicate face, "I was kidding you. I don’t even know what my female secretary looks like; I only have one confidential secretary."
Only this confidential secretary can see him and report directly to him.
As for the female secretary, he really hasn’t t her. Anyway, there are no won by his side; he can swear by it.
Dianna snorted again, "You’re lying, I don’t believe you."
"Whoever lies is a puppy! I spend every day in the military running around like crazy, only seeing other n, falling asleep as soon as I hit the bed, at most thinking about you. Where’s the ti for romance?"
"..."
Though he said this, Dianna felt comforted, quickly soothed by his rugged deanor, she adored this quality in him.
Dianna slyly curled her red lips, "Consider yourself obedient."
"All settled?" Mort lowered his tall body, his large hand reaching for her suspenders.
Dianna’s heart skipped a beat, quickly extending her small hand to cover her skirt, refusing, "No way."
"Still fussing?" Mort furrowed his brows.
This little woman was soft and fragrant, and the more he kissed her, the more he liked her. After being away with the troops for over a month, last night she slipped him a note inviting him to et at the hotel room tonight. He had been restless all day.
All he could think about was her.
Mort had never lacked won; even when he had no money, there were plenty of won throwing themselves at him. Won, like power and status, were sothing he had enjoyed plenty of.
But since she beca his, he found it wasn’t enough.
Whenever he saw her, he wanted to pin her down.
This pulsating feeling made him like a young lad whose every thought was consud by her.
Dianna firmly pressed her skirt down, her attitude resolute, "Mort, don’t bully , no way."
Only then did Mort slowly release her, his handso eyelids lifted, gazing intently at her, his thin lips curling into a dangerous curve, "What? You don’t adore anymore?"
His gaze was intense, like X-rays, piercing right through her.
In his silent seriousness, he took on a commanding presence.
Dianna’s emotions were complicated, Mort, do you know you’re going to be a father later in life?
Though she didn’t know what he was busy with now, she felt he had plans, sothing big brewing, and if she told him now, he’d have more considerations, thinking more about her and the child.
She didn’t want to disrupt his rhythm; she would protect herself and the baby well, standing behind him.
The matter of the pregnancy and their child, she had to tell him step by step.
Seeing her silent, Mort pressed his lips tighter; he leaned over, lowered his head to kiss her.
"No way!" Her slender body struggled continuously in his iron-like embrace.
Mort used a few fingers to hold her two small, unruly hands, then pinned her against the wall, his dominant waist forcing its way between her legs, muttering deeply, "Dianna, I’ve missed you for so long, do you like being forceful with you?"
"..."
His kisses were forceful, as though venting or conquering, soon making Dianna feel as though her breath had been stolen away by him.
Her petite face blushed brightly, her heart was sweet, her mouth was sweet as well, but truly, she couldn’t.
She knew he was angry.
He effortlessly subdued her, leaving her unable to move, Dianna trembled with the flutter of her lashes, letting out a painful sound.
Mort quickly released her slightly, afraid he might actually hurt her, yet still reluctant to let go.
"Mort, my stomach hurts..." Dianna frowned.
Mort halted, a hint of red tinging his eyes, his handso face clouded with displeasure and sharpness, "Speak properly, how’s your stomach hurting?"
"I think my period is coming, my stomach hurts... Mort, could you rub it for ?" Dianna grabbed his large hand, placing it on her flat stomach.
Mort’s large hand rested on her flat belly, pausing slightly, "Really stomach pain?"
"Yes." Dianna nodded vigorously.
Mort curled his thin lips, "You deserve it, can’t hit, can’t hurt!"
After cursing, he held her soft waist and lifted her to the big soft bed.
Dianna took the opportunity to embrace his neck, her thin legs entwining around his strong waist.
With a "smack," Mort slapped her small backside, "Behave, take your legs off!"
Without a taste of sweetness, she still dared to entwine him.
A man’s waist isn’t sothing a woman should casually entwine.
Dianna pouted her delicate cheeks, entwining tighter, "Feels comfortable this way."
"..."
She was comfortable, but what about him?
Sooner or later, he would burst from holding it in.
Dianna was placed on the soft bed, Mort lying beside her, his large hand gently circling her flat stomach, "Feeling better?"
"Yes, yes."
Dianna nodded; his hand was large, fully opened could cover her entire lower abdon, little Mort, this is Daddy’s first close contact with you, you must be happy.
Mort observed her bright and charming appearance, patting her small belly, "Looks like there’s no hope of you giving a son, there’s no lon in here."
Dianna raised her delicate brows, silly, there is a lon in her tummy.
"Don’t need to rub," Dianna pushed Mort’s large hand away and got up, "Mort, I called you here today for proper business; I asked a senior for help, to customize a prosthetic for you."
Dianna got off the bed, bringing out the high-tech prosthetic Raymond Alden had customized.
Mort sat on the bed’s edge, raising an eyebrow, "You went to the bar to drink with Raymond Alden for this?"
"Yes."
Dianna knelt by his legs, extending her small hand to push his robe up, revealing that half-piece of cheap prosthetic.
She cautiously went to remove his prosthetic.
But Mort stopped her small hand, "I’ll do it myself."
For so long, even though wearing the prosthetic caused redness and inflammation, he refused to take it off at night to sleep.
Dianna knew he was sowhat macho, mindful of his image, unwilling to let her see his vulnerable side.
He always felt the prosthetic area was ugly, would scare her.
"Mort, let do it."
Dianna pushed his large hand aside and removed the prosthetic.
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