"Bastard, pervert, stop, stop it, you're hurting me," Li Muling cried out in shame.
But the sounds couldn't make it out clearly; her whimpers were too faint and muffled.
Zhang Xiaomeng's large hand grasped the fullness on the left side of Li Muling.
He kneaded it ruthlessly.
Incredibly perfect, comfortable.
The touch of that soft skin was even comparable to the world's most delectable food, utterly savory.
Zhang Xiaomeng's hand continued to explore deeper until it reached the grape of jade atop that tender chest, gently squeezing it, nearly causing Li Muling to collapse.
Li Muling felt some pain and kept slapping Zhang Xiaomeng's hands.
She wanted to send Zhang Xiaomeng flying away, but sadly,
if Zhang Xiaomeng could withstand bullets, how could Li Muling's strength possibly shake him?
