Qian Yikun looked at the woman on top of him, whose figure started to blur as she was getting closer and closer to him. Her lips—that were much softer than the words that passed through them—suddenly landed on his lips. It felt so right.
Mo Fei did not know how to kiss. There was no system to the red lips that landed on Qian Yikun's lips. Her pearly white teeth bit his lips like a pet dog acting cute to its owner who raised her for many years.
Qian Yikun wanted to move but Mo Fei pressed against his chest, not letting him move. His already loose bathrobe was nearly torn apart by her.
Perhaps, since Mo Fei had not been able to get what she wanted for a while, she was eager. Her kisses transformed into bites, and her hands forcefully tore his bathrobe open.
"Mo Fei—" Qian Yikun suddenly grabbed her hands as her hands slid down to his lower abdomen. His hoarse voice rang clearly in the air.
