"Then what are you doing..."
He leaned close to her ear, exhaling softly, "Your hands, or your mouth—choose one."
Her face turned bright red in an instant. "In your dreams! Do you think this is some kind of multiple-choice question? I'm not choosing anything—!"
Before she could finish her sentence, her cheek was pinched between his fingers and turned toward him.
"Then should I choose for you?" He deliberately squeezed her face, forcing her mouth to reflexively part, revealing the soft, moist tip of her tongue. The sight was unbearably enticing.
His actions were so practiced—it's not hard to imagine how many times he'd done this with his mistresses. Liang Anya felt nauseous. Keeping her mouth ajar, she tried to intimidate him, "If I accidentally bite it off, don't blame me. I'm telling you, when I go crazy, even I'm afraid of myself—"
