After finishing, Qiao Hai tidied up his disheveled clothes, and shot a glance at the woman on the sofa. A wicked smile curled his sausage-like lips.
"Miss Song, here's to a successful collaboration."
He bent down to scoop up the scattered clothes on the floor and threw them at Song Xirou.
Song Xirou was unresponsive. Her delicate, alabaster body was marked from their lovemaking. Her hands were tightly clenched, and her eyes brimmed with faint redness.
After a moment, she sat up, reached out for her clothes, and started to put them on, one by one, head bowed, a sinister coldness flashing in her eyes.
Qiao Hai, one day I will make you pay for the humiliation of today, I swear.
Qiao Yu, in his neat attire, sat down beside her and began lewdly brushing a hand against her face, "Next time you get an opportunity, feel free to look for me, Miss Song."
