Han Queying's breath hitched again, her hips jerking upward involuntarily.
Her cuffed hands trembled, clenched above her head as she whimpered and squirmed, her thighs trembling at every flick of his finger.
"You're so wet it's making a mess already," Zhao Yiming muttered more to himself, his brows furrowed slightly as if puzzled by her body's desperate response.
But his tone was calm, almost lazy, like he had all the time in the world. "Tsk, what did you eat today to be this sensitive?" he tease her.
"Y-Yiming... don't say weird stuff right now!" she barked out, red-faced, but her voice cracked from the moan that followed.
He smirked slightly, brushing his knuckle lightly along the inner crease of her thigh, just to watch her twitch.
"That's what you get for teasing me earlier with that mouth of yours," he murmured, the pads of his fingers returning to her slick folds.
"Remember when you said I looked like I wouldn't last five minutes?"
