Her red lips were slightly parted, her long eyelashes quivered like butterfly wings, and a shy blush appeared on her jade-like cheeks: "Young Master..."
He was indifferent, completely forgetting the appearance of that woman - Young Master... Young Master... Did that soft sigh that was faintly heard in his ears really exist? That sweet tenderness, the clean and pure touch of virginity, the helpless body trembling like a deer when excited to death——
Young Master, don't betray me... Her sad tears did not cause a ripple in his heart. After a night of tenderness, what would be the ending of a forgotten woman, a frivolous lothario?