‘Arno knows exactly the sort of effect he has on me; how his smirks and smiles have a way of turning me into a hot blushing mess. As he presses himself against me, I try not to arch my back or let my whimpers escape my lips. “Are you uncomfortable, cherie?” he teases in his infuriatingly gorgeous voice. I stutter out an unconvincing denial. But he slips his hands up my skirts, rubbing the wetness between my legs, and I stifle my moans as my juices drip down my thighs. “Down here says otherwise.”’