"Hiss..."
Zhao Chi couldn't help but draw in a sharp breath, his body tensing and freezing on the spot, hands subconsciously gripping the sofa tighter. That indescribable sensation made his breathing significantly rougher, and he even felt the urge to moan with pleasure.
On the other end of the phone, Liu Sitong saw Zhao Chi's distorted expression and couldn't help but ask with a hint of suspicion, "Zhao Chi, what's wrong with you?"
"Nothing, nothing, just a little itchy down there, so I scratched it..." Zhao Chi laughed awkwardly.
Just at that moment, Song Yan suddenly picked up speed. With not very skilled technique, she kept engulfing Zhao Chi's lower half, occasionally using her agile little tongue to lick the top of Zhao Chi's manhood, nearly making Zhao Chi lose control of himself.
