The room was silent, so quiet you could hear a pin drop.
Sun Zhe held the delicate, sexy lace panties in his hand, the residual warmth and moisture still radiating into his palm. With a strange expression, he looked at Leng Yueshuang and asked, "When did you take these off?"
"Just now, when you weren't here," Leng Yueshuang replied flatly.
"Shuang'er, what exactly do you mean by this?"
Leng Yueshuang looked away and cursed softly, "Pervert. Don't ask."
"You're calling me a pervert, but you're still giving me this?" Sun Zhe retorted. "Shuang'er, I'm telling you, I really don't have this kind of fetish. I usually just leave things like this alone."
He was finding it harder and harder to understand these women. They were such walking contradictions.
Leng Yueshuang's cheeks puffed out slightly. She suddenly stood up, stared at him, and whispered, "You can only be a pervert toward me." As she spoke, she clenched her sleeves, mustering an unknown amount of courage.
