Chapter 3: Deflowered?
His eyes simply scanned her body, lingering on each curve, each peak, each valley.
A map of perfection painted on a canvas of ivory flesh.
Her skin was as smooth as jade, unblemished and flawless. Her breasts were full and round, like two ripe peaches waiting to be plucked.
Her waist was tiny, inviting him to wrap his hands around it, to feel its warmth.
Her legs were long and shapely, the kind that could wrap around a man's waist and never let go.
She was a masterpiece of nature, a work of art designed to drive men mad with desire.
A daughter of luck, according to the system these women are better than others.
Just the kind, Young Master Zhao wanted her.
He wanted to touch her, to taste her, to devour her.
He wanted to break her, to shatter that mask of defiance.
He wanted to hear her beg, to plead, to surrender.