Good stockings must be easy to tear, otherwise how can the master feel a sense of conquest?
Tearing stockings alone took half an hour, and the person would have already left long ago.
Zhu Zhuqing understood only half of it and felt deeply shocked; the emotional and rational sides in her mind began to fight each other.
Yet the more she thought about the scene, the more unmentionable it became, and unconsciously her body trembled slightly as she clenched her legs together.
Meanwhile.
Qin Jiuxiao walked out of Ning Rongrong's room looking refreshed, stretched lazily outside the door, and pulled it shut behind him.
Through the crack of the door, all sorts of scattered clothing fragments could faintly be seen.
The battle situation could be described as utterly disastrous.
Qin Jiuxiao curved the corners of his mouth, sighing in his heart.
If this little lass Rongrong lived in my past life, she would truly be suited for the cos-playing profession. That fair skin can pull off any kind of outfit and still wear them with different flavors, truly making one unable to put her down.
He had thoroughly bullied her to his heart's content for the entire day.
Just as he was about to go find something to eat to line his stomach, Qin Jiuxiao heard a soft creak sound come from beside him.
The door to Zhu Zhuyun and Zhu Zhuqing's room slowly cracked open a gap.
Immediately afterward, a slender, beautiful leg wrapped in black silk slowly stretched out from the crack of the door, glowing with an alluring luster under the hallway lights.
That leg shape was straight and well-proportioned, the skin beneath the black silk wrapping looming vaguely, with slender ankles and a gracefully curved instep; this leg alone was enough to make people's imaginations run