She knew that Samuel Johnson hated it most when someone left a mark on him. If he really cared about that, it could be justified...
Once a person tastes a delicacy they have never experienced before, it becomes difficult to forget, not to mention he had tasted it several times and even compared it—indeed, there was no greater delicacy than her...
She was terribly afraid.
Appearing to want to refuse but not daring to.
This appearance of being at someone's mercy only made his appetite grow stronger.
The effects of the alcohol had not yet worn off.
"It hurts..."
A faint inhale came through, and as Samuel Johnson lifted his head, he saw Amanda Smith's pale, almost translucent face.
She bit her lip lightly, her complexion, however, was frighteningly white. He was pressing down on her, rendering her immobile and incapable of refusing, leaving her to emit only a weak, quivering sound.
Amanda Smith didn't really understand why he still came to her.
