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I switched our positions. Sitting on the couch, ignoring my boner, I picked Martina up and had her cradled against my chest. She sighed and snuggled, contentment and satisfaction rolling off her, scenting the air. I leaned down and sniffed her neck. God, I love her smell. She giggled and turned towards me, a smile on her face as she kissed my lips.
“Mmm. What about you?” she asked, her gaze flicking down to where her bare pussy sat right on top of my denim covered cock.
“What about me?”
“You know,” she said, “I wanna take care of you too.”
“Oh, so you think I licked your pussy till you were screaming my name just for you?”
“Oh my God, don’t say lick your pussy,” she said, and covered her face with her hands.
“What should I say? Ate you out? Either way, sweetheart, that wasn’t only for you. That was for me too,” I told her and winked. “Your mistake is an assuming people don't have ulterior motives for what they do. But of course you are wrong. Everyone has a motive.”
“Oh yeah, what's yours?” she asked, sitting up and giving me an eyeful of her gorgeous tits. “Hey, eyes up here while we’re talking!” Martina snapped her fingers in my face, but I still stared at her tits. I couldn’t help it.
“Sweetheart, you know what my motive is,” I growled and pressed my lips between her two beautiful mounds.
“Oh my God, Mitch,” she said like she was exasperated, but I heard the moan as I started sucking on her right nipple. “Can you not think about your dick for like five minutes?”
“But honey, if you just let me show it to you, you'd see why that's the case,” I said, only half teasing.
At that point, my dick was so fucking hard I wondered if I broke it with wanting this woman. Martina raised both eyebrows. She leaned back and I could see where her naked sex was pressed against my dick. There was a wet spot on my jeans and it was growing, and fuck, that was hot.
“Are you saying if I see your dick, it will be all I can think about every five minutes?” she asked in what I assumed was her lawyer voice.
Shit. That was hot. So fucking hot. My lips twitched. So did my cock.
“Yep,” I replied, slapping my hands on her ass and squeezing. “That's what I'm saying.”
“You are so fucking conceited,” she growled, winding her fingers through my hair, and kissing me again.
Fuck, I was mad for this woman. Completely out of my mind. There were so many facets to her, I was always learning something new. And I couldn’t wait to discover more.
“It's not conceit if it’s true. To put it plainly, I am packing, baby,” I growled, thrusting my tongue down her throat.
I held her face in my hands, wrapped one around her neck as I kissed her hard and long. When I finally let her up for air, her eyes were glowing, and I was completely captivated by the purple flames I saw dancing there.
“Okay, Mitchell. Let's see you back up that boast.”
“What?” I asked, still caught up in her eyes.
Martina scooched off my lap, and I growled, reaching for her again. She wagged her finger and nodded towards my lap.
“Drop your pants.”
“Martina,” I began.
Lunch break was almost over, and I knew we needed more time than we had to finish this here. My plan had been to get our asses in my truck so I could take my mate home to claim her. But that wasn’t going to happen if I took my dick out.
And yet, I wasn’t ready to stop all this yet.
“Mitchell,” she countered. “Drop. Your. Pants. Now.”
CHAPTER NINE MARTINA
Whoever said desire was a living, breathing thing had obviously met Mitchell Truman. My entire body seemed to throb to the beat of his drum, and I was putty, soaking wet, horny as fuck, putty in the man’s very large and capable hands.
I’d searched him out at the construction site Timothy had said he’d be at with the intention of speaking to him in a calm, adult-like manner. Of course, that lasted all of two seconds. It was like just knowing the tall, sexy as hell man was possibly my mate had fried all my circuits. I couldn’t do anything other than slam my mouth to his and drink down every drop of that smoky, spicy masculine essence that was all him.
