My daughter in law

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Ch. 58: Pitbull

"So you're really not going to answer that?"

I looked at Martina's phone on the nightstand and raised an eyebrow, but she only pursed her lips.

"I don't have anything to say to them," she muttered, obviously still angry at her parents, and I was a little surprised that I wasn't especially upset myself. I mean, I did get a solid punch, but I couldn't really blame them. I would get absolutely livid too, if some old pig stole my daughter and made her move thousands of miles away from me.

Daughter... My daughter.

"What are you smiling about?"

Martina tilted her head a bit and tried to read me, while she grabbed the blinking device and put it in her purse. She was ready to leave. But I wasn't ready to be called a soft-hearted douche quite yet, therefore...

"I'm a pig," I said bluntly, and added a grunt.

"You're a what?" she laughed, and I walked over to her to give her a little kiss. Automatically, my hand found her baby bump, and the strange urge to protect them filled my veins again. It seemed like the more time I spent with her, the stronger this feeling got, and I suddenly understood every bit of her father's reaction.

"Nevermind. Are you ready to be my service dog?"

"Excuse me?"

Martina laughed even louder, and I loved the way she beamed toward me. And just to make her squirm a bit, I leaned closer while I kept my eyes locked on hers.

"And you better not get any ideas about chewing on pig ears."

"I..."

I let out a chuckle.

"I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about, Aaron, and I'm most certainly not a dog."

"You are today, because you're gonna guide me through the city and make sure I'll be safe from slutty New York women. Now bark."

"What?" she exclaimed, and it kind of sounded like a bark.

"Close enough," I teased, and grabbed a solid hold of her ass cheeks before I let her go. Then I dodged her attempt to slap me, and laughed because I knew she was far from mad.

She's probably more concerned about your mental health. Yeah... Can you blame her?

"What the frick do you mean by 'slutty women'?"

"Aww. You're cute when you make up alternate ways to curse," I cooed, and meant it.

"As should you, mister, because when our baby girl is born, you'll have to rinse your mouth with bleach twice a day until you learn not to curse in every other sentence."

"You already know that won't work," I mumbled through a pout. Then I gave her a quick toothy grin.

"Cummon, momma. Gimme that damn pacifier or else I'll fuckin' tackle you and milk ya' titties as revenge," I said with a whiny baby voice, and this time she actually did manage to slap me.

"Mmm... A little further down," I murmured and wiggled my eyebrows, hinting at the tempting idea of her spanking me. Or rather me spanking her.

"Aaron!" she scolded.
"You're absolutely horrible!"

"Thanks, honey. I'm doing my best," I smiled smugly, and chuckled when she rolled her eyes and opened the door to leave the hotel room. Then she headed down the corridor in the direction of the elevators, and I immediately followed. If she was my service dog, I was most certainly her little puppy.

Aaron the Yorkie. Pun intended.

"So, where are we going?" I asked, feeling curious. I studied the tired display with weakly glowing buttons that blinked in turn, while the elevator took us down the seven floors we needed to get out into the busy street. Flashbacks to my scarily vivid daydream of fucking Martina in the elevator at work, made me smirk again. She noticed, but chose not to ask. Probably a wise decision.

"Bus stop," she said plainly, and shrugged with her right shoulder.

"Yay! Just what I've always wanted! We're gonna visit all the bus stops in New York and count them all out loud!"

"Aaron! I swear, you're such a child," she groaned and I hollered, completely ignoring the strict business men who shared the elevator with us. But when I noticed one of them became a little too interested in Martina, I stepped in between them and gave him a challenging glare. That made him uncomfortable enough.

Unfortunately, just as we all exited and walked into the lobby, she turned to the same gentleman.

"I'm sorry about him. He's a little..."

She raised her hand to her head and circled her finger at her temple, as if to state my insanity.

"I think he stage dived out of his mother and crashed to the floor when he was born, or something."

"Heeey...!" I protested, but she just pulled me away from them and out through the main doors.
"That wasn't very nice," I muttered, and she could barely keep herself from laughing.

"I wasn't trying to be, either," she said, and sniffed out into the air like one of the poshy British duchesses you see in old TV series.
"And if you want me to be your service dog, I might as well be a pitbull. So watch yourself."

Then she snapped her jaw and showed off a little snarl of clenched teeth.

"Ow," I hissed, then touched her and pretended to burn myself.
"Your pettiness kicks ass."

The little squint she gave me made my dick twitch, but I decided to ignore it for now. Instead I let her grab my hand and followed, as she guided the way through the hectic streets, smoothly maneuvering us between busy men and women, people talking on the phone, children shouting or laughing, bicyclists arguing, cars honking... Everything you normally find in big cities, and then some. And Martina handled everything like a pro.

She was undoubtedly in her right element. Still, she wasn't like most city girls, since she wasn't too concerned about the latest fashion, with dramatic hairdos and makeup, and murderously long nails. She wasn't the kind to wobble around on skyscraper heels every day either, although the red ones she had nearly gave me a stroke the first time I saw her wearing them. No. Martina was the more practical kind, and she totally ruled the game. Then there was the fact that she looked amazing no matter what she wore.

"You're not gonna tell me where we're going?" I asked, when we finally came to a halt. Then I mentally facepalmed when I saw the big, red bus with a top view right in front of us.

"Sightseeing. Or did you forget that?" she giggled, and she kept sending me short, secretive glances while we made our way on board. Unfortunately, the bus was already pretty full, so we didn't get a seat on the top.

"I should've ordered tickets earlier," Martina grumbled, annoyed at herself.

"Why? At least we don't have to stand."

"Yeah, but we won't see anything from down here," she muttered.

"I see exactly what I want to see, and I don't need a guide to find it. I even have my own compass."

Martina looked a bit puzzled, but covered it by giggling.

"Which is me?" she asked. But I shook my head and grinned like the Cheshire cat.

"Nope. Him."

I placed her hand on my bulge and watched her eyes widen in shock.

"Not here, Aaron! We're in public!" she whisper-yelled, and tried to pull her hand away. I kept it there for a moment longer, though. Just long enough to embarrass her a bit more.

"You know... I saw this movie once, about a couple that was standing in a crowded bus."

I leaned close to her and murmured the rest into her ear.

"...and he placed himself behind her and discreetly pulled down his zipper. Then he pulled up her skirt and started fucking her right in the middle of all the passengers, without anyone noticing. And it was so hot to watch her struggle to act indifferent, while she made a total mess on his cock."

I heard a low moan slip out before Martina managed to slap the hand I didn't keep hostage, over her mouth. Then she tried to end me with her gaze. I just chuckled. She was too precious.

"You should wear a skirt more often," I snickered, and finally let her hand go, and she immediately grabbed the opportunity to slap my elbow.

"You...!" she threatened, but she was too flustered to come up with anything useful. Therefore, we just sat there and listened to the monotonous radio voice announcing where the different tourist attractions were, without really paying attention. Watching her squirm was a lot more interesting than sightseeing, anyway.

Until...

"We're here."

"Yes, we are," I retaliated, and pretended to know what she was talking about.

"Aaron. Get up!"

"I'm always up," I growled suggestively, but she pulled me up and shoved me through the open doors.

"Wait. We are where?" I asked when I finally realized that I had no clue.

"If you'd listened to what the tour guide said..."

"Yeah, but I was busy trying to figure out if the lady next to us was moaning because she was car sick, or if she was using an egg."

"...then you'd know that we're at New York's biggest tourist trap."

Then we stopped and looked at each other.

"Trap?"

"Egg?"

"Tourist trap," Martina explained, but was gesturing with her hand to get a clue about what I meant.

"The vibrating kind. I think she..."

But I didn't get any further, because she covered my mouth with her hand and grumbled my name.

"Seriously?"

"Onphy, Iw weheiw!" I mumbled between her fingers, meaning 'okay, I'll behave'. Then I tried not to laugh when she glared angrily at me, with her hands on her hips.

"Do you mind?" she asked, and I pouted.

"Fine. I just find it fascinating to know that there's more to things than what we see with our eyes, and..."

"Aaron," she threatened, before she turned away and started walking. And to make sure we didn't lose each other in the crowd that came off the bus together with us, she grabbed a solid hold of my hand.

It's still more interesting with vibrating eggs than auto generated tourist info, told by a stranger that repeats everything she says in three different languages. Unless that person was Martina. With an egg stuck...

"Hello?"

I crashed into my annoyed girlfriend when she made an abrupt halt.

"I heard you," I said, after clearing my voice.

"Really? Then what did I say?"

Think fast, Aaron!

"Like you said. It's a tourist trap."

She squinted a bit, and tried to figure me out.

"Something like that," she mumbled. Then she went back to explaining whatever she had on her mind.

"Hardly anyone comes to New York without visiting Coney Island. And since you're the biggest child I know, I figured that this had to be the perfect place to start."

I pursed my lips, a bit embarrassed that I just made such a brilliant demonstration of exactly that. I needed to grow up.

Urgh.

"I don't know about you, but I crave ice-cream now," she said eagerly.

"Hm. I certainly don't disagree with you on that."

"Good. Because I don't think you'll want that after I'm done with you."

My face fell, and I suddenly got all sorts of paranoid ideas.

"And what do you mean by that?" I asked, clearly sceptical, but she just giggled. I was very aware of the little devil on her shoulder though, and it concerned me quite a lot. But then Martina suddenly stepped into some woman's face and stared her down.

"What are you looking at? I needed to discipline him last night, so that's what I did! And if you don't keep your eyes to yourself, yours will turn black too, 'cause I'm about to beat you!"

My jaw fell as I stared between the two women; one of them, my quite hormonal and easily triggered baby mama, and the other... Whoever she was. But damn, she looked shocked as hell!

"Just showing who's the bad bitch around here," Martina mumbled, and tossed her hair over her shoulder while she pulled me after her.

"So you want people to see you as a husband abuser?" I snickered, but I was honestly very curious.

"Why not? I'm a pitbull, remember?"

"Hmm. Should I be concerned?"

"Depends on if you want to live or not," she smirked mischievously, and I internally whimpered. Then I pulled her toward me, so close that I could kiss her. Only I didn't. I just locked our gazes and leaned my forehead against hers, and I felt more lost in her than ever.

"You could kill me and I'd still say thank you," I growled, and noticed that I probably had the same effect on her. It was exactly like you read in those stupid, cringy novels. Every time I looked at her, the whole fucking universe faded, and everything else became an unshapable mass around us, and I just realized why they keep writing that shit. Because it was true.

"Hmm... Maybe I should tone it down some, then. I can play the damsel in distress, and you'll be the hero who got a black eye for saving me?" she suggested with a giggle, and in a matter of seconds, she'd transformed from the queen of fire to a shy, little princess in my arms.

"I'm pretty awesome, you know."

Her cute smile made it hard to act anything like the tough guy I considered myself to be. This woman made me weak just by looking at me.

"Yeah, you are," I agreed softly.

Save your face, Aaron! People will think she had you neutered.

"But... I like the abusive theory better. Besides, I wouldn't mind being abused by thy royal awesomeness on a regular basis."

Her cute smile grew wider, and she blinked her eyes lazily in a not so innocent way.

"Really now? And if I advance to whips and leather next time?"

I growled and pulled her closer.

"Damn. Don't say that. You're making me horny," I grumbled. Suddenly our morning escapes between the sheets weren't enough anymore.

"And when are you not horny?" Martina challenged, and sucked on her cheeks. So I had to give her an example.

"When I picture my old neighbor trying to do shit to Esmeralda, that he thinks I haven't already done."

Martina cracked up in a way that made her throw her head back with open mouth and clenched eyes, and I felt addicted to being the one who made her laugh that way.

"Ew! I didn't need to know that!"

"No? Well, now you do anyway. Sorry," I retorted, and gave her one of my absolute sheepiest grins in hope to make her laugh more. And it worked. So while we ordered ourselves some ice-cream and tried eating it, I told the most ridiculous stories I could think of, just to watch her smile and be happy. I wasn't even mad when she stole my ice-cream, because she claimed that I ate it too slow. She needed the energy more than I did, anyway. In my eyes, the day simply couldn't be better. Unfortunately for me, she didn't share that opinion.

"It's time to step it up a notch, Aaron. Rollercoasters next."

Oh, hell no!


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