Yan's nimble tongue skimmed over her lips, flicking away the thin line of blood. His gaze locked onto hers, burning with both an intense passion and a touch of humor, and a palpable sense of anticipation.
Zhu Qianying paused momentarily. Was this man, after all, a masochist?
Regardless, whether he was a masochist was unimportant. The deep welts that Zhu Qianying had left on Yan in the heat of her anger had acted like kindling to his desire, stoking his fiery passion.
She had bitten him out of fury, and in return, he'd given her a night of hard-fought passion, repaying her for all of the pain he'd suffered with ten times the intense pleasure.
...
The next morning, their ultra-cute 'baby boy' was banging on the door in excitement.
"Daddy! Daddy! Wake up, let's go exercise!"
The little tyke had woken up early to find his father's shoes by the shoe cabinet, and had quickly run back to his father's room, but there was no sign of him inside!
