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... y?

Am I looking like a well-done steak or something?

Cecil approaches me, gulping.

Foll𝑜w current novℯls on ƒrēewebnoѵёl.cσm.

“Can I lick you?”

“I’m not a steak!”

Still, I give her a ‘delicious’ hug.

Cecil buried her nose in my chest and sniffed, as if to check if I really smelled burnt.

“Oppa’s smell has gotten better….”

“It’s your imagination.”

“I smell that person too.”

“Belita?”

...

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