Total pages in book: 108
Estimated words: 101736 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 509(@200wpm)___ 407(@250wpm)___ 339(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 101736 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 509(@200wpm)___ 407(@250wpm)___ 339(@300wpm)
Sydney: I thought about you while using my educational aid in the shower.
That was the text I’d been brave enough to send him later that morning as I got ready for work.
Preston: Such a good girl. Wish I could have been there.
Every time he called me that, it lit me up inside. His praise was a drug, and I was a junkie for it.
I wanted to write back that I wished he’d been there too, but my shy fingers were impossibly sluggish, and by the time I worked up the nerve to start typing, his next message rolled through.
Preston: I’d make you blow me and I’d cum inside your pretty little mouth.
A hot flash washed through me, and I gripped the phone tighter. I’d never sent sexy texts before, and suddenly my mind was running away with itself. Naughty texts were bad, but sending dirty pictures? That would be really bad.
My blood heated at the thought.
Yet as much as the idea had turned me on, I hadn’t been able to pull the trigger on it that day. Not just because I was running behind, but because I wasn’t ready. I hadn’t a clue how to take a picture where I felt sexy or provocative and not hilariously awkward.
Tonight was . . . different.
Maybe because I was amped up from sneaking around and throwing away the condom wrapper, or the relief that I was safe now, but there was a confidence lingering inside me. It was wild and foreign, but exciting too.
I grabbed my phone off the nightstand and clicked on the bedside table lamp, which cast a small, warm glow around the room. Jitters fluttered in my stomach as I considered what kind of photo to take. Should I do a topless one?
Or more? Really go for it with full nudity?
I glanced around the room and my gaze snagged on the mirror. It made me pull in a deep breath, climb out of bed, and shed my clothes. I tried a few different poses, snapping pictures while holding my phone in front of my face, or ones where my face was out of the frame.
It wasn’t that I didn’t trust Preston, but the only way to protect myself from shit happening was to make sure it never existed in the digital world.
My attempts at taking a decent picture all failed. I didn’t feel sexy or empowered, and the photos looked forced. As if I were trying too hard—which I was. I sighed and sat down on the side of the bed, which happened to be the same spot where Preston and I had fooled around a few weeks ago while facing the mirror.
Like I needed another memory to turn me on, or something else to intensify the ache I desperately wanted to relieve.
I remembered the feel of his hands on my body, and it caused me to slide back to my place on the bed, with my head against my pillow and my fingers between my legs. I brushed my fingertips over my clit and bit down on my lip to hold in a groan of pleasure. I wanted it to be his hand doing this, or—
Abruptly, I scooped up my phone and, without allowing myself to think about it, I took a picture. It was of me naked on the bed, shot from my chest down, with one hand between my legs and my fingers resting on my clit. I’d been leaning my hips slightly to one side and twisted my shoulders the other way, which gave me a provocative arch and made my boobs look good.
This picture? It was kind of hot.
I opened my chat with Preston and hurried to send it before I lost my nerve.
Sydney: Wish you were here.
It was after midnight, so I assumed he was asleep. I dropped my phone on the mattress beside myself and imagined him waking up tomorrow morning, sleepily looking at his phone and discovering what I’d done.
Would he be thrilled? Maybe even a little proud of how—
I jolted when the phone vibrated on the bed.
Preston: FUCK
Oh, my god. He was awake? Heat flooded my face. It was sort of like I’d passed a note to a boy I liked in middle school, only to have him read it right in front of me. Except this was on a whole new anxiety-inducing level.
I stared at the screen, waiting for the dots to show me he was typing, but there was nothing, and the longer it dragged on, the more nervous I became. What if he meant this fuck, as in something bad had happened?
My lungs stopped working as a horrible thought seized me.
What if he was up late playing Call of Duty with Colin right beside him? I hadn’t given Preston any warning of what I was sending because I’d just assumed he’d be alone.