Shit. Jiang Cheng moans deeply at the sight, clenching his hands on the arms of the chair in a white knuckled grip. Not yet. Not when his princess is putting on a show just for him.

“Look at you. You’re so beautiful like this. Hard and wanting. You did such a good job keeping yourself quiet. Suck on those fingers, princess. Do you think you can handle three?”

His breathing increases, panting a little, and his cock is straining against the material of his slacks. He licks his lips, imagining his cock instead of Sizhui’s fingers pumping in and out of those glossy lips. He bets they taste like cherry.