The sudden disturbance startled Zhang Xiaomeng into stopping his movements, and then he saw Murong Fenghua's graceful figure trembling slightly, her hands gripping the snowy white bedsheets tightly, her legs curling up as well.
She was breathing heavily, her face flushed with a peachy hue.
At this moment, she felt her mind was in a haze, though aware it was shameful, she couldn't help but speak:
"Xiaomeng, it feels so good, just now I felt like I was floating on the clouds."
"We've only just begun, wait until I'm inside, then you'll know what it really means to fly."
There was a proud smile on Zhang Xiaomeng's face.
This woman was too easily satisfied; he had only kissed her a couple of times, touched her a little, and she already had such a strong reaction.
Looking at the dew drops scattered across the green meadow and the damp patch on the sheets, Zhang Xiaomeng teased again:
