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Wrong marriage and sweet love (Joyce and Luther) novel Chapter 1271

Joyce will believe it, though dazed, but stares at him warily.

Luther was not kind enough to pull her pants down smoothly. Then he took out a set of pajamas from the bed and changed her into them. What did she take him for? He was horny, but not so much that he was thinking about making love to her when she was like this.

Joyce was a little confused from the burn and fell into his arms, eyes closed.

About another fifteen minutes passed.

The nurse dispensed the medication and pushed the infusion cart in.

"Hit the left hand or the right hand?" The nurse asked.

Luther gently stroked Joyce's cheek, her face scarlet, like dyed with two hues of red, extraordinarily beautiful.

"Hit the left hand." He lifted her left sleeve, revealing her long, slender, lotus root arm.

As if feeling cold.

Joyce woke up again and opened her eyes to see the nurse standing in front of the bed, holding a very thick IV needle in her phone.

Her face went white, "No, I don't want an infusion. I want to go home."

She was so burned that she was confused and became more capricious, struggling to get up.

Play up like a child and hang on to his whole body.

Luther struggled to hold her down, barely able to wrap his arms around her, she was picking at him like an octopus, just to avoid the shot. At this moment, he had a deep sense of powerlessness.

It turns out that Joyce is the cutest when she is drunk. The other is when she is sick and feverish.

"Ahem." The nurse stood by, a little embarrassed.

Had to look away.

The picture is somewhat less than childish.

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