"I can walk by myself..."
Yi Zhuo ignored her, flipped her upright, supported her thigh with one hand, and wrapped the other arm around her waist.
"You've been sitting for so long; your legs must be numb."
In this position in his arms, her hands had nowhere to go but around his neck. Chang Xuyu's ears were burning red, about to drip blood.
Her long black hair fell over her shoulders like a waterfall of dark silk, exuding the familiar scent that fascinated him.
Chang Xuyu lay against him, her head buried in the hollow of his neck. Her little face was burning hot, and she dared not look at him. She could only shift slightly to find a comfortable and less awkward position.
Her small, subtle movements rubbed against him every time she moved.
It made his breathing heavy. He shortened the distance between the study and the bedroom to just a few steps, then slammed the door shut.
The fragrance in the bedroom was the rose scent she had bought. Last time she went to the mall, she had inexplicably picked up this bottle at the counter. Now she really regretted it. This scent was like an aphrodisiac for him. He breathed heavily, his hot breath scalding her and making her flustered.
Pressing her down on the bed, the man's eyes were bloodshot, and his hands began to move impatiently. Chang Xuyu bit her lip. Anyone could guess what he was about to do.
In this regard, Chang Xuyu knew Yi Zhuo well. She didn't know where he got so much energy. Almost every two days he wanted it, and each time he had to use every method. Every time, it felt like they wouldn't see the sun the next day. He would torment her fiercely, no matter how much she cried or begged for mercy.
Then she would scratch him.
She called him a hypocrite, pretending to be mature and steady on the surface but showing his true colors at night!
Yi Zhuo nodded and said she could think whatever she wanted, then threw her back into the "water."
Every time they finished, Yi Zhuo's back would be covered with new scratch marks. He said she was like a cat—when she couldn't win, she would resort to sly tricks and be unreasonable.
She didn't bother arguing with him; she just kept scratching him every time. Who told him to hurt her so much! She should just kick him off, pin him down and beat him up so he wouldn't dare do it again.
Too bad, every time it was him pinning her down.
This time, he simply pinned both her hands together above her head—
Right before they both lost control, she tearfully choked out, "I haven't showered yet..."
His eyes were dark and unclear. Panting, he unbuttoned her nightgown. The veins on the back of his hand bulged, and a drop of sweat fell. Unable to hold back any longer, he tore off the thin fabric underneath, picked her up, threw her over his shoulder, and headed to the bathroom—
"Let's shower together."
His voice was hoarse, like a patient, thirsting male lion.
Author's note:
...Dear censor, I beg you not to lock this. I promise to write carefully.
Don't lock it. Recording this is the first revision.
Second revision, my heart is dying...
Third revision.
I'm getting angry...
Come on, let's stay up all night tonight and battle it out with me for three hundred rounds, censor.