Wen Qiao paused, her curiosity piqued even more. She straightened up a bit, and her other hand reached toward Fu Jinghen's Adam's apple, her neatly trimmed and smooth fingertips gently grazing it. Her eyes sparkled with intrigue, "Is everything they say online true? Is this spot really that sensitive?"
As Wen Qiao leaned in closer, her warm breath brushed Fu Jinghen's neck. Coupled with her intentional teasing, the man's breathing immediately grew heavy.
Watching the bobbing Adam's apple, Wen Qiao suddenly felt very playful, curiosity gleaming in her eyes.
"Wen Qiao," Fu Jinghen called out her name impatiently, capturing her other hand and pulling it down to his waist, holding it tightly there, "Settle down. Your stomach still hurts, and I don't want to overexert you."
