This time, lust is like the water that bursts the embankment, and it is out of control. I don't know when, Fang Ling's hand has reached into Song Ying'er's clothes, wantonly stroking the pair of plump and round white rabbits, Song Ying'er can't help but be smug and confused, and her delicate body keeps writhing.

Just as Fang Ling was about to enter the next step, there was a sharp pain in his waist, Fang Ling's desire suddenly disappeared, and he couldn't help but let out a muffled snort, Song Ying'er quickly woke up from his intoxication, regardless of sorting out the hair and clothes that had been made, and hurriedly helped him lie down again, and said softly with concern: "Your Highness, you don't care, right?"