Tianmo did not speak. He simply moved.
His hands, large and warm, clamped onto her thighs with the suddenness of a hawk snatching its prey. In a fluid motion, he lifted her, spinning their positions until she was the one on her back, her hair fanning out across the sheets like a spilled ink painting.
"Sit on my face?" he repeated, "A good request..."
He did not wait for her retort. He pulled her legs apart, exposing the glistening, swollen folds of her jade gate to the cool air of the room. The scent of her arousal was intoxicating—a mix of cold mint and the sweet, cloying fragrance of a rare orchid.
"Ahhh!♡" Ling'er gasped, her back arching as the chilling air brushed against her heated, wet flesh. She tried to close her legs instinctively, a remnant of her modesty, but his grip was iron.
"Don't... don't look so closely..." she stammered, her hands flying to her face to cover her eyes, though her fingers parted just enough to peek through. "It's... it's embarrassing..."
