After Sleeping With My Childhood Friend's Best Friends

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The newly added content in Lu Manman's circle of friends made Zhijiao Xiang Yimo helplessly laugh at her little sister's ghostly elf. I casually liked it and then left a comment: Looks great! Then the two of them chatted and laughed for a while. Xiang Yimo, who was almost slumped on the sofa, smelled the aroma in the air that made her index fingers twitch. 

Xiang Yimo licked the roof of his mouth, put down his phone, and was lured out of the kitchen by the smell. She stood outside the kitchen and looked at the steam rising from the pot the man was stirring in the kitchen. The light smoke curls up like threads. It's light, misty, and lingering, with a layer of smoke and mist, and a shadowy beauty. It seems that even if he is just cooking a dish, his posture is elegant, beautiful, and natural. 

It gives people a visual enjoyment, as if he is not really cooking, but is performing some kind of artistic performance. Xiang Yimo looked at him and missed him, her black and white peach blossom eyes sparkling with doubled admiration and appreciation. Jing Qian happened to copy another dish and put it on the plate. 

The air was filled with the aroma of food, and as Xiang Yimo gradually approached, strands of faint fragrance floated into his nose. Jing Qian knew that the little girl was behind him, and he could see it as soon as he turned around. Turning off the flames, Jing Qian's eyes were gentle and he asked, "Are you hungry? Just one more dish is needed."  

Although the voice coming out of his throat was light, it contained a lot of tenderness, as gentle as if it could melt hard candy. Lose. It's sweet and melts into people's hearts. "I'm so greedy." Xiang Yimo glanced sideways at the dish and praised it in his heart. Even the presentation was so delicate and artistic. 

God might have given Jing Qian the hands of two gods. I just don't know that on the operating table... well, as long as I don't think about the blurry scene of splitting and slicing flesh and blood, Jing Qian can almost turn the dead bones into flesh and blood. The movements should be precise and sharp. It's natural to look good when you work so hard, not to mention that it's not just work, it's saving lives and healing the wounded, and even robbing people from the King of Hell.  

With such incredible skills, how could it not look good? Xiang Yimo sighed, his eyes moving from the delicate dishes on the plate to the hands with clear joints. The knuckles are bent like jade hooks, holding the chopsticks to pick up a piece of fragrant white meat as bait. Before she stared at the piece of white meat and the swallowing sound rolling out of her throat turned into actual word sounds, the man's clear voice further tempted her: "Try some first?" Try it? All the excuses were made to satisfy her craving.

Since he said that, Xiang Yimo, a little salty fish who couldn't resist the temptation, opened his mouth and bit the bait. Sip it with your little mouth, it's so delicious. Xiang Yimo bent his eyes, enjoying the feeding to his lips, and his eyes continued to wrap around those hands unconsciously. 

It is said that hands are a person's second face. Jing Qian's pair of jade hands that can save the world with a scalpel are flawless and exquisite, no worse than the first face. It was such a pair of hands that, after putting down the scalpel, besides his daily life, were always serving her. From big things to small things, such as feeding at the moment. Or the lust lingered on her delicate body and inside her body, teasing her, playing with her, teasing her...  

After being touched by the fingertips, she could not help but feel weak. Xiang Yimo stared at the man's jade hands in trance. Those ambiguous images flashed through my mind for no reason. She felt hot when she recalled it. He slid his eyes away in shame, avoiding the swaying jade that caught his eye. 

She moved her thighs gently, clamping the insides of her legs together and rubbing them, and wet water seemed to flow out of her legs. Jing Qian stopped feeding and put down his chopsticks. He was looking at her all the time. The little girl had obviously not touched a drop of wine, but a hint of drunken blush appeared on her pink and white face, faintly spreading, and silently attracting people's attention. 

Catching her wandering gaze, the clear and good voice was wrapped in an ambiguous smile, and followed her ears with warmth. "Momo, tell me, what are you thinking about?"