Song Guanyu was awakened by a tingling sensation. She felt like her skin had been pricked by tiny mosquitoes all over—itchy, not painful, but incredibly tender and intimate. That feeling of being cherished enveloped her like a warm blanket, making her heart incredibly soft.
But more than that, a sense of emptiness spread through her body—a longing to be wrapped and filled.
In a daze, she seemed to see Ye Yansheng in her dream, smiling at her. Song Guanyu kept her eyes tightly shut, biting her lower lip. A soft gasp escaped her lips, her fingers gripping the sheets, even the taut muscles of her calves forming a perfect, straight curve. The white sheets wrinkled instantly.
She exhaled sharply, unable to suppress a sound: "Ye Yansheng." Her voice was weak and very hoarse.
A scorching breath came from beside her ear, also panting: "Hm? What's wrong, Xiaodai?" His tone was infuriating.
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