139 A Pleasure Worth Dying For

"Qing-er." He nudged my lips. "Do you approve of the purchase we made?"

I could do nothing but moan in response when his palm slid beneath my underlayers and traced my inner thighs. There was probably only a smidge of cream left on his fingers, but that was enough to burn my senses away, to consume me. The tremors in my body hadn't even fully subsided, yet the heat was already rising again, searing me with his touch. I wiggled, parting my legs subconsciously to answer to his caress, and when the burdensome garments became too restricting, he tugged on them. With a soft rustle, they fell onto the floor.

He straightened and quickly shed his own clothes as well, then loomed over me again, another scoop of cream on his fingertip. I stared at him in puzzlement. He had already wreaked havoc on all my most sensitive spots … where else could he rub that on?


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