“Corrie, I’m always thinking about you. And I’ll be thinking about that pretty mouth of yours on my cock all day until we’re in my tent tonight. But for now, we should focus on the dig.”
“Well, if you want me to focus, then I need to stop by my room to change out of these wet panties because, Dr. Matthews, you’ve got a way with your words.”
Corrie sashayed to her tent, not bothering to check Ford’s reaction. She wanted him to be in as much agony as she was, waiting for the moment they could be alone together again.
With a fresh pair of panties, Corrie joined the rest of the group on their trek to the Chimalli site. It was as beautiful as she’d remembered.
The sun peeked through the mahogany tree canopy, casting a mystic atmosphere around the adobe building covered in vines and moss. Corrie pictured what it looked like in its prime—likely a single room with space only for sleeping and minimal furnishings aside from woven reed mats and a metatl table. A hearth outside the home. Maybe even a small garden for vegetables. Perhaps Chimalli returned over the ridge with a vessel of water to see Yaretzi sitting at the opening of the hut, weaving a basket and watching their child play in the dirt below her. Their quiet, idyllic life a far cry from that in Tenochtitlán.
After doing a group tour of both sites and laying the ground rules for the dig, they split into two teams and got to work setting up the site. Taking photos of each area. Marking various spots to dig. Erecting tents and other facilities, areas for eating, taking breaks, sifting, and going to the bathroom. Most of the day, Ford drifted back and forth between the bowl and the cave, answering questions and offering suggestions on techniques to carefully remove the vegetation that had consumed the structure. By the time they broke for a late lunch, they were halfway through setup. But at this rate, they wouldn’t break ground until the next day at the earliest.
Digging was a painstakingly slow process. They couldn’t simply jab their shovels in and go. No, every inch had to be carefully uncovered and any peculiarities marked. And then dirt needed to be sifted. And artifacts tagged then bagged. And then on to the next inch. Given the size of the adobe hut alone, they’d be there for at least another month.
Though, now that Corrie had someone to keep her company in the evenings, she didn’t think she’d mind the added time.
“Dr. Mejía?” Ford said as everyone was sitting to eat their sack lunches, courtesy of Agnes. “Could you come look at something with me for a minute?”
Corrie paused midbite and set her sandwich on the wrapper. “Right now?”
“Yes. I want your opinion on another potential search spot.”
She wrinkled her brow. Another spot? Maybe Chimalli had a storage area or Ford had found another cave.
“Do you need me to come, too?” Ethan asked, ready to hop up from his seat on the ground.
“No, just Dr. Mejía for now.”
Ford led the way, far from the rest of the group and both dig sites. What on earth were they looking for over here? And how did Ford even find this spot? Perhaps there was something around the boulder ahead of them. But once they turned the corner, nothing.
“Ford, what are we—”
She couldn’t finish her sentence before he pressed her back against the cold, hard stone and kissed her. Kissed her with the same passion and intensity from the night before. Reminding her of the things he could do with that fabulous mouth of his and that extremely talented tongue.
Who needed lunch when you could have a Ford snack?
Their tongues tousled in a frenzied flurry. Needing more. Wanting more. And not just wanting more from the kiss. Wanting more from each other in every possible way. Corrie wrapped her leg around Ford’s waist, pulling his groin into hers. His hips rolled in long, deep strokes against her, pressing his thick, hard cock into her most sensitive area.
Maybe they didn’t need a condom. He hadn’t had sex in a few years after all . . .
No. Corrie put the thought out of her head. She had rules and couldn’t break them simply because she was horny and Ford’s cock was begging to be let in. It was a deal she’d made with herself when she’d decided to stick with casual sex. No condom, no sex, no exceptions. The last thing Corrie needed was an STI. Or a baby Mejía. A baby would no doubt set her plans back.
Slowly, he pulled his mouth from hers, planting a few final pecks on her lips, then stared at her face.
“How am I supposed to focus and get any work done when all I can think about is you?” he asked.
Sweet satisfaction washed over her.
“Were you really able to focus before this? Because I don’t know about you, but I’ve been thinking about kissing you since the airport,” she said. “Hate-kissing you, of course, but still kissing you.”
“True, but it was easier to get work done when I was competing with you.”
“Who said the competition is over? I still plan on being the first one to hold the knife.” She smirked.
Besides, their friendly competition made the rest of it all sweeter.
“You’re assuming I’m going to let that happen,” Ford said, his eyes homing in on hers.
“Let it happen? Oh-ho-ho! Dr. Matthews, you’re mistaken if you think I’m going to let you let me do anything.”
“All right, then. How about a little wager?”
Wager. Hmm . . . Corrie was beginning to like the sound of this.
“Okay . . . I’m listening.”
“Well, so we’re not here for the next six months unable to focus, how about we add some skin to the game?”
Corrie waggled her brow. Oh, she was all for more of Ford’s skin, especially the smooth, veiny skin of his cock.
“Dirty girl,” he said. “Anyway, whoever finds the knife and holds it first gets to pick their prize.”
“And what are the parameters for the prize?”
“Whatever you want . . . within reason of course.”
“Do we have to want the same thing?”
He shook his head. “Like I said, whatever you want. I’ll go first . . . if I win, I want that bra and panties you were wearing last night.”
That was it? Hell, Corrie would have given him those even without the wager. Not that she’d let him know that. Particularly not with what it was she wanted out of this deal.
“Dirty boy.” She hooked her fingers through his belt loops and pulled him closer. He needed buttering up for what Corrie was about to drop. She rubbed her hand on the outside of his pants and brought her mouth to his ear, sucking on the lobe. “If I win . . . I want my name listed first on every publication, museum plaque, history book, whatever it may be, as the person who discovered Chimalli.”
He pulled his face back, the strain obvious. Wanting to call her out for being absurd but not wanting her to stop massaging him. “That’s significantly more than what I asked for.”
“I didn’t make the rules, Ford. My proposal is reasonable. You can always ask for something else if you’d like. This,” she said, motioning toward her hand around him, “doesn’t constitute a handshake, so you still have time to change your mind.”
“Fine. If I win . . . I want you to do an interview where you are quoted as thanking me for giving you the opportunity to come on this dig.”