Pretty Hot (The Pretty Trilogy Book 1) (24 page)

From behind me, his hand drifts up my torso, coming to rest at the base of my throat. My pulse quickens at the sight of his large, strong hand cradling my paler, fragile neck. As I swallow beneath his fingers, his eyes darken and his hand flexes just a little bit. Neither of us speak but watches the other’s reflection, both of us immersed in the sense of my breath under his hand.

‘All wrapped up,’ he murmurs, brushing his hand down my chest to tease the satin-bows masquerading as a bra. My nipples harden under the softness of the fabric, aching for his touch. ‘Only one place to go.’ He tugs the ties which loosen effortlessly, my breasts springing eagerly free. Hands cup and caress as his mouth finds my ear.

‘This is what I’ve been thinking about. I’m going to unwrap you like the prize you are. Unravel you further still.’ I exhale libidinously, my body settling against his as I raise my hands to his hair. ‘No touching.’ Hands circle my wrists, lowering them against his thighs. ‘Not for you, sweetheart, because I’m going to bind you. Make you desperate to be fucked.’

His words penetrate my stupor with a sudden kick of lust to my gut. Having prepared myself for an evening of firsts—the underwear, the shoes—the theory and the practical are suddenly poles apart. I resist the urge to pull my wrists from his hands with every ounce of my strength.

‘Trust me,’ he coaxes, as though sensing my unease. ‘Trust me to take care of you.’

I take in our reflections, my beautifully crafted underwear, Kai’s heated and smouldering gaze. Aren’t I already bound, wrapped in satin and heels? The answer brings forth a mixture of absolute thrill and disgrace, sensations I’m coming to associate with Kai, as my head and body contradict the other.

‘Let me show you what you need.’

My trepidation liquefies, heat coursing through me, burning his words on my skin. A slow smile forms on his beautiful mouth before it disappears behind me as he crouches down. His hands stroke my back and trail my behind, his mouth kissing each cheek in turn. Kisses turn to grazing, teeth to sucking bites, before he slowly loosens the satin bow across my arse. Standing once more, he leans toward my ear.

‘Spread your legs.’ His instruction is low and gravelly, his arm snaking around my waist to steady me as I move my feet apart. The cadence of his voice changes, becoming more strident as he presses his knee between my thighs. ‘Further. Wider still.’

I move again, his fingers instantly between my legs. My breath catches with surprise, transforming into a shuddering sigh as his hand presses firmly at the apex of my thighs. My body liquefies and I moan at the intimate contact, pressing myself against his hand. Unable to watch my wanton reflection, I close my eyes.

‘Wet,’ he whispers, his fingers curling and dipping inside. ‘Warm . . . and wanting.’ His words are delivered slowly; drawn out, each one echoing between my legs. I whimper an appreciative response, my body doing all of my talking right now. ‘I love that you feel like this, for me.’

I open my eyes, suddenly bereft and empty before his fingers drag against my bottom lip. ‘Taste yourself.’ As I push out my tongue, he brings the glistening digits to his own mouth, sucking hard
.

I convulse a little as he watches me, wanting so much. Needing.

His eyes are dark and dilated as he turns me in his arms, his mouth sliding against mine, his tongue forcing entry and seeking my own. I match his intensity, tasting myself from his mouth as he holds my head firmly between his hands. Our kisses are savage, ferocious kisses of need, hard and unforgiving. My hands clasp his biceps, their restrained power vibrating under my palms.

‘This way,’ he rasps, taking my hand. ‘Before the evening ends prematurely.’ I inhale and almost choke. The expression on my face must border on comical as he pulls me roughly against him, his erection hard against my side. ‘Don’t misunderstand me. I mean before I fuck you right here, abandoning my plans.’

Words, just words but, boy do they hit the right spot.

Pulling me toward the chair, he pauses to slide the untied panties down my legs. With what can only be described as a smirk, he grabs them from the floor.

‘You should always dispose of wrapping mindfully.’

‘You don’t strike me as the kind to recycle.’ My voice is breathy as I use his shoulders for balance, savouring the warm, solidness of him under my hands.

From his crouched position, his eyes narrow. ‘Oh, I can be green.’ As he stands, he tucks the scrap of satin into the back pocket of his jeans. ‘I’m absolutely the jealous type. Sit down.’

Hands against my hips, he lowers me to the chair.

I feel a sudden thrill, powerful in my position. I run my hands through his hair, nails against his scalp and tugging the ends. His shoulders roll and loosen, his eyes closing slowly in response. He exhales a harsh, masculine sound as he places his palms on my knees, sliding them apart with ease. Eyes lustrous, he lifts my foot by the point of my heel, kissing the inside of my ankle before draping my leg across the armrest.

Repeating the actions, he lays me open and bare.
Vulnerable.

I blink rapidly, trying to reconcile how I feel against how, maybe, I
ought
to feel. There’s a residual unease, particularly as I’ve allowed him to position me so, but it’s secondary to my arousal as unfamiliar sensations slice through me, pushing me further toward that unseen edge.

‘
Inti hilwa
 . . . you’re so beautiful.’

His breath feathers the inside of my knee and my body jumps, bowing in anticipation as his tongue suddenly reaches the limit of my thigh. He stills, neither head nor mouth moving for a moment, a moment filled with torturous expectation. My erratic thoughts jump from nervousness to desperate desire as he kisses me wetly, halting his journey and tilting his head.

I lift my hips in a not-so-subtle plea.

‘I love this piece of skin right here.’ His hands stroke the pale skin of my inner thigh, eyes entranced. ‘So soft. Like a symbol or a promise. A no-man’s land.’ With an agonising ache, he draws a finger along my slick ribbon of flesh. ‘Before the velvet within.’

Almost grinding in the seat, I whisper, ‘Please.’

‘What is it you want?’ His cheek is pressed into my thigh as his eyes travel up my body.

‘Take off your shirt.’ What? It’s the best I can come up with right now. Don’t judge.

He laughs huskily, teeth grazing my thigh in play. ‘Pout all you want, it’s not going to work.’ He straightens, and for a heart-stopping moment, I’m sure he’s about to kiss me. I end up frowning as his mouth brushes past my face. His hands feed into my hair at the nape of my neck, his mouth a whisper from my ear. ‘I’m not your puppet. You don’t get to pull my strings.’ As though to emphasise the point, he pulls and my head falls back, each strand seemingly hardwired to my clit. I whimper, I think, only as a description that seems inadequate.

His hand slips to the cushion at the small of my back, a silken fabric travelling across my skin in a whisper of air. A tie, like the one from the box. Actually, there are a couple, as not unlike a magician, Kai pulls the silks across my waist.

‘Look familiar?’

‘And for your next trick?’ My words sound thick, desire coating my throat.

‘I do need a willing assistant.’ He chuckles darkly. ‘You’re here, so I gather the scarf’s message was clear.’

‘Subtle,’ I whisper.
Like a sledgehammer
. ‘Not sure how bondage will set me free.’

‘You’ll see.’

Almost at once his expression changes, eyes intense as he lifts my hands to his mouth, kissing the tips of my fingers and positioning them against my hips. He begins to thread a length of silk under the arm of the chair and around my thigh, fingers entwining anticipation and hunger as silk twists against my skin. My heart rate increases as I watch his bowed head, shortly followed by a duplicitous but delectable pulsing between my legs.

‘You look better than I could ever have imagined.’ My body trembles where the pads of his fingers caress the hyper-sensitive skin of my inner thigh. His gaze is resolute on the path of his fingers as he speaks again.

‘I’m going to taste you, sweetheart. Lick, suck and bite you. Devour you, until you beg for release.’

The words, ominous and intimate, cause tiny explosions inside. I bite my bottom lip hard, desperate to keep a building moan inside my throat. Then his head rises, eyes finding mine alive and fire bright.
‘T
hen I’m going to fuck you. How does that sound?’

Heavenly?
Blood pounds in my ears, echoing between my legs, a tiny explosion of sensation matching the sudden beat. 

‘Threats and promises,’ I breathe, any further comments dissolving as he presses his thumb against my clit. My hips surge with the motion, one hand gripping his shoulder, but the pressure is gone, all too soon.

‘Just promises,’ he whispers, kissing my cheek.

Lowering his head, he strokes my nipple with the flat of his tongue, taking it into his mouth and sucking hard. As soft as his mouth is hard, he draws his fingers across my leg, brushing my entrance just once. I try desperately to absorb the enticing sensation, my body rising on instinct. I whimper as he repeats the actions against my opposite side, the corner of his smile visible against the skin of my breast. I pant quietly, need hot and heavy, drenching my skin as his mouth skims lower, licking and nipping still.

‘Fettered and fucked . . . my favourite,’ he murmurs against the soft flesh of my belly. I’m about to point out the obvious as he pushes a finger inside me. ‘Finger fucked,’ he growls as he adds another. I moan, the words dying, unformed.

Dark eyes watch me, fingers dipping and curling inside, his touch as exquisite as his gaze is electrifying. I’m so turned on by his watching me that it only increases my pleasure, and as though knowing this, he speaks.

‘Don’t come. Not yet.’

‘Do it, then,’ I moan, my wave of need beginning to crest.

‘Do what?’ he purrs. ‘Come on, say it. Tell me what you want, what you need.’

‘You, I need you,’ I whimper.

‘But we’re not done.’ Lowering his head, he continues kissing my torso. My legs jerk against the restraints as he reaches the apex of my thighs with a chaste kiss. ‘So sweet,’ he murmurs. His fingers hold me open, his flat, full tongue drawing languorous strokes along my flesh. My insides tighten and heat as, like quicksilver, the intensity begins to build again, forcing me to lift my hands to his hair, as though to hold onto it.

‘Ah-ah,’ he admonishes, his tongue circling me as his fingers work me still.

My eyes roll closed and I moan, arching my hips within my limited motion, desperate for more—for harder, deeper—as his teeth graze my sensitive skin. Quivering and desperate, I’m just a bundle of nerve endings, drowning in sensation. I’m close. God, so close.

I sense him standing and whimper, my eyes snapping open to follow, heated and desperate, wanting yet unfulfilled
.

Fingers at the hem of his shirt, he reaches for the lowest button, loosening it in a deliberate, unhurried action, revealing his defined torso inch by slow inch. With a light roll of his shoulders, the shirt slides down his arms. I reach to stroke his flat stomach, wanting to touch him, bring him closer as he moves to the back of the chair.

‘Patience is bitter,’ he taunts from behind, running his hands down my arms.

Swallowing thickly, I rasp, ‘But its fruit sweet.’  I’m a pawn in his game and I don’t know the rules, but I so want to play.

‘Clever kitten.’

Grasping my wrists, he lifts them to my head, binding them deftly with another silk, finally threading the fabric through the crown of the chair.

‘Look at yourself,’ he coaxes, but I’m too busy watching
him
; unable to move my eyes from his almost feral gaze. His fingers tilt my chin to our shocking reflection; the mirror in front of me, I’d forgotten.

My eyes are reflected wide with anticipation, complexion flushed, my breasts are thrust out. Satin restraints echo the shoes on my feet. I’m so open and exposed . . . thrillingly so. Watching him watching me, suddenly it’s a little hard to breathe.

‘What did I promise you?’ He lowers his head, our eyes connecting in the mirror, the question pulsing between my legs.

A really good seeing to?

I lick my lips, summoning a more sensible line. ‘That you’d make me beg.’

He smiles and with a rustle of silk, covers my eyes.

‘So I did.’ The sense of promise hangs heavy in the air as the soft pad of feet sound against the marble floor.

Was that a swish of air from an opening door? My anxiety levels spike. He’s leaving. What sort of a nut job allows a guy, one she barely knows, to tie her to a chair? And now he’s buggered off to god knows where.

It’s all fun and games until somebody gets fucked. Or not, as the case may be.

I try to rein in my rising panic, resisting the urge to pull against the restraints, my breathing shallow and rapid. I hold my breath, straining to make sense of muffled noises coming from the other room, without much success. Time passes, how many minutes—a couple . . . five . . . ten?—I have no idea as I wait and speculate, anticipation and anxiety cleaving my insides.

Having no control over what’s about to happen is arousing, consuming.
Confusing
. As my mind races, doubts and recriminations rise.

Nice girls don’t put themselves in this position. Nice girls have sensible sex. In a bed. Lying down. With a man they know. They don’t allow themselves to be tied to a chair, naked and spread open by a virtual stranger.

My heart skips a beat as the door swishes open once more. Soft steps draw closer, and something I can’t quite place. Maybe the clink of glassware? Then, liquid pouring.

‘Thirsty, kitten?’

I shake my head, relieved that I’m no longer alone. My anxiety recedes but my heart still beats in my ears.

‘No?’

His cologne drifts past me as a soft brush of fabric caresses my skin. I try to rise to meet him; he’s so near, our skins almost touching. I recognize the sound of liquid once more and Kai’s appreciation as he swallows, lips smacking in an exaggerated fashion.