Under the cover of night, her skin was fairer than snow. She had been delicately raised, a girl of noble birth, and the slightest bit of rough handling left a pink flush.
Yet, it recalled how, under the drug's influence, the words spilling from her soft lips had been nothing but pleas…
Begging him to show her no mercy.
His already taut stomach grew increasingly firm, hardening like a rock.
The man's hands unconsciously tightened their grip, just as she had pleaded for back then—for him to be rougher…
Song Lianhe was unbelievably hot all over. She didn't know if she was just being paranoid, but she couldn't shake the feeling that his hands were becoming more and more improper.
But he was just giving her a massage. He was a martial artist, after all, and he found her pressure points with unerring precision. Every press landed exactly on a sore and tired spot, making her hum with relief.
It sounded like a kitten's mewl, so sweet it could make a listener's heart melt.
