The man before her suddenly made his move, and with one hand he pulled her into his embrace. Her soft body pressed against his chest, while his other hand cupped the back of her head, bending down to kiss her and effectively silencing her lips.
Mo Shichen held her head firmly beneath his hand, giving her no chance to struggle or escape. His tongue deftly pried open her lips, plunging in to seize and erode all the sweet strawberry flavor in her mouth in a kiss that was incredibly intense, as if each stroke of his tongue desperately sought to stir her nerves.
Yet this kiss was also peculiarly meticulous, as if the man, who seemed to have lost control of his strength, was in fact very calm, coolly not sparing any inch of territory, intending to conquer it all.
In Paris, such a passionate kiss wasn't anything unusual, and not particularly worthy of sidelong glances, but perhaps because of their Asian faces, passersby still gave them more or less a look.
