"Donn... Donn..."

Silverbell pressed herself into Frank's arms, the sensation of her warm, damp skin leaving Frank's mind blank.

Before he realized it, he was in bed, having already taken off his shirt, his body tangled with Silverbell's.

Turning pale in surprise, he quickly tried to get up, but Silverbell had clearly lost all rationality.

She clung firmly onto Frank, refusing to let go as she snuggled against him like a playful kitten. No man could resist such temptation, and Frank was heaving, his eyes red.

He could do it right then, but his rationality warned him against exploiting Silverbell in her moment of vulnerability.

And it was Silverbell they were talking about—she was at least ten years younger.

He bit through his lip, forcing himself to calm down as he pinned down Silverbell on the bed. Then, keeping his eyes closed, his fingers brushed over her silky smooth skin as he felt for acupoints that could calm her down.

Smack!

them, but the Passion Dust had already taken root by then. The substance was already flowing through Silverbell's limbs and there was no stopping it— save for holding down Silverbell, stopping her from moving at all while he

Silverbell's body, his body so restless that he could well be

his tongue firmly to force himself to

extended

as he strode through the gates and asked in confusion, "Why do you look so tired, Mr. Lawrence? Did something happen?” "Nothing. It was just a little... taxing,” Frank replied, shaking

was

Lawrence,” Dahok said nearby,

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