Jason Carter slowed down, ready to take a good look at this top-tier luxury car he could only dream of. At that moment, the car door opened, and two long, fair, sexy legs stepped out of the sports car first, clad in red boots, the curves of her calves alluring and full of bounce—utterly irresistible. Jason Carter was mesmerized by those beautiful legs, almost forgetting to look at her figure, her face. When he finally moved his gaze from her legs to her whole body, Jason Carter nearly had a nosebleed on the spot. Too sexy, too hot—she was simply the ultimate temptress, a veritable fire-spitting siren.

Or maybe not a siren, but a girl—just one who dressed herself up like a siren. A fiery red leather miniskirt, barely covering five centimeters below her hips, leaving two stunningly beautiful legs bare, dazzlingly white and captivating. A fiery red leather crop top, a snow-white slender waist, a sexy belly button all exposed, and even her enticing cleavage, all gleaming white, devouring the eyes of onlookers.

This girl wasn’t as tall as Catherine Newman, but she was close to 170 centimeters, and her exposed, snow-white legs looked especially long and straight. Her chest might not have been very large, but under the tight crop top, it looked especially perky. Her round, pert buttocks weren’t particularly plump, but wrapped in the leather skirt, they looked especially round and lifted. Most of all, her skin was an exceptionally rare white—whiter than frost, outshining snow. The cool, provocative outfit, skin as creamy as milk and mutton fat, the startling curves of her perky hips, all paired with that fiery red miniskirt set.

The visual impact was even stronger than that dazzling sports car. Or rather, this dazzling sports car suited her perfectly, as if it had been custom-made just for her. “So sexy, so hot.”

Jason Carter’s lower body strained against his pants, swelling and uncomfortable. He hurried forward, wanting to get a clear look at her face. She looked familiar! Wow, it was actually Amanda Lincoln. Amanda Lincoln, who was known as the peerless beauty alongside Catherine Newman. Whether in looks, figure, or family background, Amanda Lincoln could rival Catherine Newman. Even though she attended the same school as Jason Carter, he rarely saw her, since she often skipped class and was as elusive as a dragon. Jason Carter had never spoken a word to her, nor had any contact. Still, he’d heard a bit about her. Rumor had it she had a nickname: Kitten. Now, it seemed that nickname suited her perfectly. Whether it was her agile, cunning demeanor, those slightly upturned, seductive eyes, or her pouting, haughty, commanding red lips, even that exquisitely beautiful, almost intimidating little face—all exuded a fierce, fiery spirit. She seemed to love red: her car was red, her clothes were red, her boots were red, her skirt was red, even her nails were all painted red. She was the very image of a seductive, soul-stealing little wildcat.

At that moment, this little wildcat gave her supercar a hard kick, then glanced at Jason Carter, immediately beckoning him to stop. Jason Carter stopped, and this beautiful, sexy little wildcat actually spread her legs and straddled Jason Carter’s battered motorcycle, patting his shoulder and saying, “Hey, you’re going to school, right? Give me a ride.”

Her tone left no room for refusal.

“Wow, no way, my ancestors must have done good deeds. Two top beauties have actually ridden my motorcycle? Of course, maybe it’s not me, but my motorcycle that’s blessed.”

Jason Carter glanced down and immediately saw two long, fair, stunningly beautiful legs. This little wildcat’s leather skirt was so short and tight, yet she still sat with her legs spread like that—so, so bold, it was enough to make anyone’s nose bleed. Especially the faint glimpse of her underwear at the inner thigh—Jason Carter almost wanted to howl, “Motorcycle, oh motorcycle, even if you break down right now, it’s worth it. With such a sexy, round butt sitting on you, I’m jealous…”

“Red underwear, what’s so interesting about that? Hurry up and go.” Seeing Jason Carter’s furtive gaze, Amanda Lincoln glared at him with her beautiful eyes and snapped.

“This woman is just too fierce.” Jason Carter reluctantly tore his gaze away and looked no more. He started the motorcycle and sped off toward the school. With a beauty riding behind him, this battered old bike felt as if it had been injected with an aphrodisiac, racing like the wind, as if it could easily compete in an F1 race. In just five minutes, they had already reached the school gate.

Jason Carter immediately spotted Catherine Newman at first glance. Today, she was wearing a silk crop shirt, white fitted pants, and the same sexy, thin slippers as always. Her slender waist was still exposed, though not as much as Amanda Lincoln’s. But mixed blood is mixed blood—Catherine Newman’s chest was indeed bigger than Amanda Lincoln’s. Her butt was also fuller than Amanda Lincoln’s. You wouldn’t know without comparing, but when the two stood together, the difference was obvious. Of course, that’s not to say Catherine Newman’s figure was necessarily better than Amanda Lincoln’s. It’s just that one was Western, the other Eastern—two different styles, equally matched. Like the difference between Jessica Alba and Chingmy Yau.

“Hmph, pretentious little vixen.” After glancing at Catherine Newman, Amanda Lincoln immediately looked away as if she hadn’t seen her, letting out a snort through her nose—whether out of jealousy or disdain, it was hard to tell.

Catherine Newman first looked at Jason Carter in surprise, then her gaze swept coolly over Amanda Lincoln as if she hadn’t seen her, and continued walking with her head down.