Li Meirong felt as though iron shackles were binding her. Apparently, Zhu Qingyue's ailment had no undermining effects on his physical prowess at all.
Raising her arms in defense, she pounded on his chest with her small hands curled into fists, resisting his hold. Her watery eyes pleaded him for mercy. Yet he stood there like a boulder, unfettered and unmoving.
As she felt his warm, wet tongue begin to trace her soft sensitive lips, Li Meirong moaned in frustration, gasping from the intense need she sensed from him. The moment her lips parted, that slick greedy muscle instantly probed into the crevice of her mouth.
