After the storm.
Tang Feng looked at the flight attendant in his arms, her brows slightly furrowed and eyes tightly closed, feeling a surge of pity in his heart.
Indeed, his thrusts had been rough, yet a woman like Gao Yue, a mature lady, would only scream in ecstasy.
Deep down, every married woman desires to be conquered, owned, and even ravaged.
But this little flight attendant, an unseasoned chick who had yet to be baptized by gunfire, couldn't quite withstand as much.
She even cried from the pain.
Her face was wet with tears, like pear blossoms in the rain.
The thumb and forefinger of Tang Feng's left hand pinched the tender pink nipples, gently kneading them.
His right hand caressed the flight attendant's cheek tenderly.
His lips left Xiaolu's red ones, kissing away the tears on her cheek without missing a spot, continuing until there were no more tears on her face.
