Marvel: Ma'am, I'm your husband's boss

Mrs. Osborne stiffened.

Deep down, I feel mixed emotions.

There are surprises, and I am surprised that my charm is still as strong as before.

But I am also shy, because I am no longer the spy I used to be.

I have been married for a long time, not only am I a wife, but also a mother.

Hugging and kissing a man in public.

This is really embarrassing.

She also enjoyed herself. Although Osborne had once brought her sweet love, it was a long time ago.

Moreover, Mrs. Osborn, who used to be a secret agent, had been injected with drugs that delayed aging, and her physical fitness was far superior to that of ordinary people.

But there is also a greater need for desire.

However, she could control her desires...

My brain can't stop thinking about random things.

When she came to her senses, Fisk had already gone too far and put his hands completely on the stockings. It was too late to stop him, and Mrs. Osborne could only look at Fisk with her shy and angry eyes.

"Mrs. Osborne, are you feeling unwell?"

"Asshole!" Mrs. Osborne cursed in her heart, but her body couldn't help but tremble, "I'm fine!"

Fisk stared at her delicate cheeks, stroking her stockings that were slowly being soaked with sweat, feeling the stockings and her smooth skin, and his reason began to be slowly consumed.

Mrs. Osborne gritted her teeth and said, "Mr. Fisk, no."

Fisk ignored her and immediately wrapped his arms around her slender waist. He moved his body closer to her, pressing her delicate body against him. His other hand slowly moved upwards and touched her lower abdomen again, but this time it was more rough. His palm rubbed and squeezed her hips vigorously, and his fingertips unbuttoned her shirt. Faintly, Fisk accidentally touched the edge of Mrs. Osborne's panties.

“No!” Mrs. Osborn could no longer bear it and struggled, but Fisk hugged her, sniffing her charming scent and breathing hotly on her face: “Mrs. Osborn, you don’t want to see the Osborn Group go bankrupt, do you?

Maybe I can help you!"

Chapter 121 Robbery!

"Mother?"

"Where are you?"

Mrs. Osborne stood up suddenly.

Her face was full of shyness.

"Mr. Fisk, I'm going to find Harry." Then he ran away.

Fisk looked at Mrs. Osborn's agile body like a cheetah and suddenly laughed out loud. This woman was indeed not an ordinary person.

Her soul is light blue.

It's the same color as sea water.

Fisk stretched and stood up from his chair.

He was going to find Gwen too.

-----------------

When Fisk found Gwen, they had already entered the National Museum of the United States.

Gwen looked at Fisk who arrived late.

His expression was angry at first, but then became strange.

"Mr. Fisk, why do you have a strange smell?"

Gwen leaned in close to Fisk with her nose in her mouth.

The action is particularly intimate.

Almost leaning on Fisk.

Being teased by her like this, Fisk's heart, which had calmed down, suddenly started beating wildly again.

Fisk laughed dryly and shifted his gaze slightly. He felt guilty and didn't dare to look into Gwen's beautiful eyes. "I went to the bathroom. My stomach felt a little uncomfortable."

However, at this moment, Fisk felt a hand on his waist.

The slender fingers pressed against Fisk's waist through his clothes.

And slowly move upwards along the hard curves of the waist and abdomen.

Fisk's body froze immediately. The place where Gwen's fingers had touched seemed to be numb and he couldn't move at all. The fingers slowly moved upwards and finally touched the center of his lower abdomen. Five fingers lightly pressed on it. Gwen's pure voice entered Fisk's ears: "Is it uncomfortable here?"

"Ah?" Fisk's throat rolled slightly, "Gwen, don't do this!"

"Then it's not here!" Gwen's face turned a little red, but she seemed to have made some decision, and slowly reached her hand down.

There seemed to be flames burning in Fisk's lower abdomen.

Fisk had just suppressed the feeling that Mrs. Osborn had aroused with great difficulty, and now he was almost unable to control himself.

Reaching out, he grasped Gwen's hand.

"Gwen!"

Gwen had a smile on her face. Her hand was caught, but she suddenly raised her leg and gently rubbed Fisk twice with her calf. Then her body moved closer. "Mr. Fisk, you are lying!"

"It's wrong to lie!"

Fisk was now standing at the back of the group.

The tour guide at the front is explaining the paintings on the wall.

This seems to be a painting by Leonardo da Vinci called Portrait of Ginevra de' Benci.

I heard that this painting appeared earlier than Mona Lisa.

Everyone was listening carefully to the tour guide's explanation in front.

Fortunately, they were all listening to the tour guide's explanation and did not notice anything unusual behind them.

Fisk looked at Gwen and felt overwhelmed and helpless.

Thinking about how he had killed so many people, he was actually played around by a little girl.

"Gwen..."

Fisk stepped back a few steps, but just as he took a step back, Gwen quickly rushed forward and his knee was hooked by her calf. Fisk could already feel the warmth of the soft flesh on the inside of her thigh and the tender skin.

Fisk felt like prey being targeted by a spider.

Gwen came up again and hooked her arms around Fisk's body, as if to fix him and prevent him from running around.

"Fisk, sir, what are you hiding from?"

"No, no."

"Why, is it because I said it right that you feel guilty?"

Gwen's eyes narrowed slightly.

He tilted his head and glanced at Fisk, "Mr. Fisk, aren't you going to say anything?"

"Gudong!" Fisk looked at the crowd in front of him with a guilty conscience, afraid that someone would suddenly turn around. Fortunately, Gwen also knew it. She felt that her conspiracy had been accomplished, so she did not continue to torture Fisk, but loosened her hand.

Fisk breathed a sigh of relief.

Gwen suddenly said, "Mr. Fisk, you just met Mrs. Osborn, right?"

This time, Fisk said decisively: "We met on the road, but we just chatted for a few words."

"Oh!" Gwen's tone might have contained some kind of emotion.

Fisk was a little nervous again, but fortunately Gwen just held his arm tightly and did not make any other moves.

-----------------

A black sports car stopped by the roadside.

The red-haired woman got out of the car.

"Hey, you can't park here!"

"Really?" The woman gently pressed a button on the car, and the next second the black sports car drove to a parking space not far away. She smiled and said to the patrolling security guard, "I'm not parking here now, you can't accuse me!" As she spoke, she put on a black leather jacket, covering the gray T-shirt underneath.

However, there was no way to cover her lower body with a leather miniskirt, black stockings, and sports flat high heels.

As she spoke, she pulled out a tourist guide to the National Mall from her bosom and took out her glasses. In an instant, her temperament changed into that of a quiet tourist. Except for her red hair, she was full of aura and was almost like a different person.

The security guard who was passing by grumbled as he looked at the sports car parked in the distance. When he turned around, he found that he had lost sight of the woman.

He frowned, reached out and grabbed the radio and said, "There is a suspicious person, a red-haired woman, but there is no sign of the police."

"Got it, you must be alert, we will be there soon!"

"understand!"

The red-haired woman walked into the National Gallery with a visitor's guide in hand.

She had a piece of bubble gum in her mouth without knowing when, and she started walking along the portraits on both sides of the wall while chewing it.

Most of the paintings in the National Gallery are portraits, with a total of more than 40,000 pieces. All of the portraits have their own historical origins and stories.

But not many of them are from the United States.

Most of them are shipped from overseas.

It is somewhat ridiculous that these things shipped from other countries are actually preserved in the National Gallery of Art of the United States and have become the symbol and synonym of the National Gallery of Art of the United States.

As she walked forward, she kept looking at the paintings around her. When she came across a painting from Russia, she stopped. This painting was a house with a red roof, in a realistic style, painted by a man named Torovsky. It didn't look like there was anything special about the painting.

But the woman stopped for three or four minutes before moving forward again.

"Dudududu!"

The phone rang.

The woman lifted the phone and put it to her ear.

A man's voice came from the other end of the phone: "You are at the National Gallery, right?"