Mo Xiaomeng's whole body was weak, and she felt as if she was about to become one with the water in the bathtub.
Of course, he was the one who had become one with her.
They had almost never been separated.
After the shower, he carried her to the bed and pressed her down again ...
Mo Xiaomeng's voice was hoarse. She pushed him and said she didn't want it, but it was useless. He held her hand and kissed it from her fingertips, the pad of her fingers, the gaps between her fingers ...
He looked as if he was worshiping her body.
"Are you tired?" He asked.
Mo Xiaomeng's eyes were brimming with tears of passion, and she whimpered.
Tired?
She was simply falling apart, alright?
She was so angry that she raised her small fist and hit him.
If it was not strong enough, it would be soft, even weaker than an ant.
Ye sijue smiled and lowered his head to kiss her. &Quot; if you can hit someone, it means you still have strength. &Quot;
