Xuan Ying froze.
He couldn't recall her ever taking the initiative.
Feng Lingxue kissed his cold lips, her hands wrapping around his neck. As she pushed her tongue deep into his mouth, it hooked onto his tongue, twisting and dancing around like a relentless tease.
Under her passion, Xuan Ying seemed to melt. He placed both hands on her slim waist and pushed her backwards. The two of them tumbled onto her cold, hard, wooden bed.
She was burning up.
He could feel that there was something wrong with her. Pushing her away gently, he asked, "What's wrong?"
His deep voice was rough.
In the dark, Feng Lingxue's misty eyes gazed at him. She placed both hands on his chest and pushed him away.
Xuan Ying was unprepared for this and he fell onto the bed. He wanted to move, but Feng Lingxue climbed over and sat on him.
