Pretty Hot (The Pretty Trilogy Book 1) by Donna Alam Page B

flow through my body . . . then I remember my hiatus from waxing. How mortifying; my nether regions haven’t felt the tear of wax in months. Wasn’t Barbie-bare the new thing? Though trimmed, I probably look like a cavewoman in comparison and begin to stammer, attempting to close my legs.
    ‘Shh,’ he murmurs, hands firmly on my hips. ‘It’s a little retro, but so very . . . blonde . What begins as a teasing admonishment sounds more like appreciation, almost a groan.
    My embarrassing train of thought is no more.
    As he leans forward, brushing his nose against me, I’m surprised my legs are still supporting me at all. I’m bound by my underwear, my arms have slid across the sofa and my chest is thrust out. Shackled by my own longing, feelings coalesce and consume: I feel vulnerable, erotic, indecent . . . a confusing mixture of thrill and disgrace. I fight the deep-seated instinct to squirm under his gaze as he deftly pulls the scrap of cloth the rest of the way down my legs. Catching one foot, he widens my stance and I whimper as he parts me, stroking a finger along my slick ribbon of flesh. Barely a touch, his finger moves backwards and forwards, igniting every nerve ending. My legs tremble and I close my eyes again, pressing my lips together in some pretence of control, gasping as he bares my clit. I cry out and arch my back at the sudden invasion, his fingers lowering before pushing inside.
    ‘Wet,’ I think he says, though the sound is more of a masculine groan. It’s almost as though the evidence of my arousal is some source of awe. His fingers drive in deeper, repeating again and again as his eyes watch my face, moving to where his fingers work me and back again. ‘Such sweet lips. I don’t know which I want to kiss most.’
    My brain breaks right there. Misfiring synapses interrupting service. His words are so arousing. Aural sex; unfamiliar but so very effective, vindicated by the pulsing between my legs. Driven by instinct, and an increasing need, my body moves in rhythm with his fingers, hips thrusting and matching his pace.
    As he places both hands against my hips, I actually groan—unhappily—before making a whole series of different noises when his hands slide around to my arse, pulling me toward him. Toward his face. His tongue strokes my swollen flesh, opening me. Licking and sucking. Devouring.
    He moans, and as I’d imagined, the sound reverberates through my insides, pushing tiny noises from my throat. With a hand behind my knee, he lifts it over his shoulder. My fingers tighten on the sofa back, something hot and sleek rushing through me, his tongue merciless in its assault, flicking and driving circles around and around my swollen clit. I writhe and moan, the sensation explosive as he brushes the inflamed bud with his lightly stubbled chin.
    ‘Oh, please, Kai!’ I rasp, meaning both please stop and don’t you fucking dare as he takes the sensitive flesh into his mouth, sucking and grazing it exquisitely with his teeth.
    The noises I make are raw and needy, my body stiffening, driven over the edge into climax. Imploding, exploding, I arch with my hands at his head, struggling for freedom from his mouth; the feeling is so intense, I almost can’t take it. But Kai doesn’t give me the choice as he continues to hold me, pressuring me with his mouth and coaxing my orgasm further. My flesh is electrified, every nerve ending screaming for release. It seems impossible that I can feel more, but I do as he groans into the very core of me, drawing my orgasm out. I’m frayed. Whimpering. Supported by the back of the sofa and held in place by the man between my legs, I’m torn between it all being too much, and somehow, just right. 
    With a last tormenting flick of his tongue, he releases my over-sensitized flesh, sitting back on his heels and lowering my leg.
    ‘The ladder,’ he rasps, his tongue briefly tasting his bottom lip. ‘I’ve been imagining what you’d sound like when