Strange in public! Trying to conceive in private! Pampered and kissed every night.

Qin Yuhe's tone was calm, composed, and gentle, and his gaze was as still as a calm lake, but Song Xinya felt a dangerous sense of oppression.

"A friend."

Qin Yuhe's expression turned somber. He placed his fingers on the collar of his white shirt and unbuttoned one button.

Male friend.

Otherwise, she wouldn't have given such a vague answer.

Vague and ambiguous means trying to cover something up.

He walked toward the double bed, unbuttoning his shirt as he went.

As I walked to the head of the bed, I saw that the buttons on the white shirt were completely undone, revealing the smooth lines from the chest to the abdominal muscles.

He placed the peanut butter bottle on the bedside table, the glass jar clinking against the solid wood with a crisp sound.

Song Xinya's heart skipped a beat.

Qin Yuhe withdrew his finger, turned around, and walked towards the bathroom.

Soon, he was wearing a bathrobe, his black hair, which had been dried, was still wet in clumps.

Qin Yuhe lifted the covers and lay down, the fresh scent of his bath wafting towards him.

Song Xinya's nerves suddenly tensed up.

Qin Yuhe leaned casually against the headboard, one leg stretched out and the other bent, his posture relaxed and exuding a touch of carefree elegance.

He picked up the peanut butter from the bedside table with his long, slender fingers and twirled it between his fingertips.

Song Xinya swallowed hard as she watched his action.

Qin Yuhe turned to look at her: "Have you ever played peanut butter play?"

Song Xinya had already guessed what kind of "play" he was referring to...

She stammered, "Who would play with peanut butter in bed? Only a truly perverted person would think of such a thing. I'm a normal person, and I've never done it before."

With a click, Qin Yuhe opened the peanut butter lid.

"Never played this before? Perfect, play with me tonight."

His strong and muscular body pressed down on her.

Holding an open lid of peanut butter in my hand.

Song Xinya screamed in panic, her face pale and delicate, like a frightened fawn, kicking and pounding on him with her hands and feet.

"No, no, if peanut butter gets inside me, will I get a gynecological disease?"

She reached into the pillow and pulled out a small pink bottle: "Use this. I bought it. I bought it at the supermarket."

Qin Yuhe took the small pink bottle in his hand; it was white peach and oolong fruit flavored.

"Didn't you say you didn't buy it?"

Song Xinya pouted: "I was just kidding."

Qin Yuhe glanced at the glass jar in his hand: "Are you sure you don't want to try the peanut butter?"

Song Xinya: "If you don't try it, who would use peanut butter? That sticky texture is much better than sesame oil."

Qin Yuhe: "How about trying sesame oil next time?"

Song Xinya: "...I won't try it. I'm not making a cucumber salad that needs sesame oil."

She wasn't so nervous anymore, and her mind started to work.

Why is Qin Yuhe so obsessed with playing with peanut butter or sesame oil?

Has he had any wonderful experiences with other women before?

The thought of this made Song Xinya feel depressed.

Although she thought to herself that even if there was something, it was his past, and she should respect it.

But she still couldn't feel happy.

She loves him.

She was jealous of every woman he slept with.

The thought of his hot, hard male body, his powerful thrusts, his deep and domineering penetration, his sexy, deep panting... being enjoyed by other women made her feel uneasy.

Song Xinya understood that she had developed a possessive desire for Qin Yuhe.

The soft rustling of her body against the blankets made her turn away from him, her voice icy: "I'm a little tired today, I don't want to. Let's sleep."

Qin Yuhe stared at her with dark, intense eyes.

It's often said that women are fickle creatures, and that's absolutely true. She agreed just a moment ago, but in less than a minute, she changed her mind.

Qin Yuhe opened the pink bottle, squeezed out a long strip of transparent gel-like liquid, and slowly rubbed it with his fingertips, applying a thick layer to each finger.

The aroma of white peach and oolong fruit filled the air in the room.

He slipped his fingers inside her nightgown.

His skills were truly superb. In just a few moments, she couldn't take it anymore, whimpering and surrendering, her face burning like a small furnace.

Song Xinya cursed herself for being so useless.

Just moments ago she was vehemently saying no, but now her fingertips are trembling.

She was shy, embarrassed, and ashamed.

She turned her head away, refusing to look at him.

Qin Yuhe kept moving with one hand while using the other to turn her burning face towards him so they could look into each other's eyes.

In the lamplight, his face was exceptionally handsome, his eyes dark and deep, and when he stared at her intently, it seemed as if he could steal her soul.

Her heart pounded as he stared at her.

Suddenly, he pinched her hard.

She whimpered with her red lips parted, her voice high-pitched, delicate, and sweet.

She scolded him playfully, "What are you doing?"

Qin Yuhe: "What do you think? If you've enjoyed my service, you should at least give me a nice look."

Song Xinya was a bit spoiled and arrogant at this moment, and said in a spoiled manner, "I didn't ask you to serve me."

Suddenly, the wind stopped and the rain ceased, and all movement came to a standstill.

Qin Yuhe: "Fine, I'll do as you say. I won't provide the service."

Song Xinya was currently in a state of high fever, her whole being like a small furnace, burning with desire.

He suddenly stopped, leaving her hanging in limbo.

I feel so bad.

She imagined herself just like before, tossing her head gracefully, turning her back to him, leaving him with a cool silhouette.

But by then she could no longer do it.

Her body felt empty, like a void, desperately needing him to fill it.

Reason was eventually overwhelmed by desire, and she lost to him.

She looked at him with her shimmering eyes, filled with a pitiful longing.

In the dim light, his features were deep and distinct, and he calmly observed every expression on her face.

He lowered his head and leaned closer to her, his thin, hot lips gently pecking at the tip of her nose, his breath falling on her lips as he spoke.

"Beg me."

"If you beg me, I'll give it to you."

She was the fish on the chopping board, and he was the experienced fisherman; she had no choice but to let him do as he pleased.

She realized that he was deliberately tormenting her today.

I don't know what she did to offend him these past two days, but he's been finding all sorts of ways to "torture" her about this.

After that brief moment of stagnation, the little fire inside Song Xinya wasn't burning as brightly anymore, and she wanted to turn over and give him a cold, indifferent back view.

With a sudden movement of his hand, the small stove roared back to life.

He was incredibly skilled at this kind of thing, always handling it with such ease.

With her mouth agape and her breathing rapid, Song Xinya uttered those two words in a delicate voice: "Please."

"Please, Brother Crane."

Qin Yuhe's dark eyes narrowed, his gaze becoming dull and viscous.

The night is deep, but people are restless.

Having learned their lesson from being overheard the night before, the two kept the windows of their second-floor bedroom tightly shut.

On the double bed, the smoky gray bed resembled the sea at night, and Song Xinya was a fish struggling and rolling in the surging waves, a slippery fish, floating and sinking in Qin Yuhe's palm...