Priceless Baby: 101 Bedside Stories

Chapter 3, Mr. Devil's Little Sweetheart

In his closet, a white shirt.

Shen Qianshu picked up a set of dark blue western-fitted white shirts for him. In the evening, she was in front of her face and put on her shirt. Shen Qianshu’s face was hot and she hurriedly turned away. The night tomb was pale and had a good figure. Honey-colored skin, strong chest, he is a typical hanger, dressed in thin, undressed with meat, a pair of slender long legs, extremely extra points, she is trying to go out, the night mausoleum orders, "Come here!"

He took a tie and handed it to Shen Qianshu. The white shirt tied the bottom three buttons. Shen Qianshu understood what he meant. He took the tie and gave him one by one.

The nightlings bowed their heads slightly, watching her long, white fingers stroking on the white shirt. She had a beautiful hand, flexible like a beating note, and her nails were round and clean. Her fingertips accidentally touched his chest.

Shen Qianshu seemed to be frightened. She lowered her head and he could only see her red ears.

"I am terrible?" asked the night mausoleum.

Shen Qianshu shook his head and his ears were more red.

In the night, the eyes are condensed with frost.

Little liar!

She has a cold fragrance, a touch of faintness, very charming. He remembers that when he is lying on her lap, when he has a splitting headache, he can always smell this cold fragrance, like a tranquil medicine, which slows down his pain.

The night mausoleum is too high.

Shen Qianshu couldn't reach it. He stood still straight. Without the meaning of bending over, Shen Qianshu had no choice but to pad his feet. The two were close, and the smell of the opposite **** hormone swept her senses strongly. Shen Qianshu felt that his face was on fire.

In a hurry, he tied his tie hard.

Put on the shirt, tie the tie, the night masonry set on the dark blue vest, suit, swept away the color of the defeat, the spirit is handsome, like a noble son, the romantic but indifferent.

After the night tomb out of the castle, Shen Qianshu reviewed his homework in the downstairs hall.

She is an international student, applied to the Paris Art Institute, studied jewelry design, and had a language course for half a year before enrollment. She came over two months earlier, just want to get familiar with the environment and language, and make money by the way.

Shen Qianshu draws a sketch of jewelry design while listening to the French online course.

Unconsciously, I fell asleep on the table.

During this time, it was too tired to be tossed by the night mausoleum.

He was massaged for almost four hours a day, and his two arms were so stiff and stiff as a prosthetic.

When the Mausoleum came back, she saw her sleeping on a pile of draft paper without any image.

The sun was shining, but he was covered with a thin layer of frost. He came over and looked down at Shen Qianshu. She was squatting sideways, and a green silk drooped down, covering half of her cheeks, only half-white. Face, with a touch of peach red.

The night mausoleum looked at her inconspicuously. She didn't know what she was thinking. She narrowed her eyes and turned her attention to the draft paper on the side. He picked up his eyebrows and picked up the draft.

All are draft papers for jewelry design.

When Shen Qianshu woke up, he blinked a little confused.

"Sir, are you back?"

The night mausoleum was cold, and Shen Qianshu found that he was watching her design manuscript, and he rushed back to the red ear. The night mausoleum looked at her coldly, and was very dissatisfied with her protective action. She attacked her works viciously. .

"A pile of rubbish, what to grab?"

"Why do you say that my design is rubbish?" Shen Qianshu's face was red, and he turned his head and retorted. He forgot the warning of Luther butler for the first time. It was also the first time he faced the martyrdom and viciousness of the night to fight.

(End of this chapter)