Conlin, who was buried on Athach's shoulder and kissed, gave a slight pause when he heard this.
Conlin looked up, his eyes were still red, full of wildness and strong possessiveness. He looked at Athach and opened his mouth with some difficulties: "Mrs.Greef, Athach."
When he was ill, his voice was terrible, he screamed like a beast, and even his pronunciation was not clear.
This was the only reason and memory he has.
Hearing his answer, Athach stopped struggling, and she closed her eyes.
That kind of impatience stirred Conlin's nerves. After answering her, he bowed his head and continued to kiss. It was not gentle at all. It was very wild.
The T-shirt blocked the way of his lip, so he pulled it hard again.
The white T-shirt was completely torn up, leaving only a little to cover up.
Conlin looked like he saw the oasis in the desert and bowed his head eagerly. When he wanted to tear off her last fig leaf and kiss her.