After nearly an hour of struggling, Zhou Qing finally climbed out of bed.
It must be said that Nie Yuhuan was indeed interesting. She had many sensitive spots, and with her cooperation, Zhou Qing's mood had significantly improved.
After the tussle, Nie Yuhuan's drunkenness had sobered up quite a bit, only her head still ached somewhat.
She covered her head with one hand and leaned against the headboard, eyes closed in respite.
One before, one after, as if they were two different people.
Zhou Qing lit a cigarette, slipped on his underwear, and walked to the window, taking a deep drag.
A post-coital cigarette was just blissful.
He slowly turned his head and his gaze fell on Nie Yuhuan. But seeing a large wet patch on the bed, Zhou Qing immediately realized.
No wonder she sat up right after it ended — it was because the sheets were wet, making it uncomfortable.
"What are you looking at? Haven't seen a woman who's that wet before?"
