Page 60 of Make Me Dream of You

The thought swirls around in my head as I lie here in the dark. I could take one little picture for him. A cute picture? A sexy picture? I’ve never even taken a sexy picture. Angel would send a sexy picture.

Fuck it.

I flip on the lamp and dig out the only cute bra and panty set I own. They’re white lace, the fabric design just intricate enough to obscure the bits and pieces. I put them on.

Don’t overthink it.

I lie down, turned so that my bruised side is hidden from the camera, knees together, arch my back, suck in the tummy, and take a few pictures.

I scroll through the pictures, face heating. To my surprise, I like them. I look good. Damn good. Fuck, I’m really doing this.

I pick the one I like the best and attach it to a message to 2Horned. At the last second, I go back and crop out my face.

Then I hit send.

That’s it. It’s done. I can’t take it back now.

My heart is racing.

Did I just send a semi-nude? I haven’t felt a rush like this since…since I posed nude for Noah.

I change back into my pajamas then check my phone.

Nothing. No response.

What if he just doesn’t say anything? Or what if he comes back with the driest reaction? What would be worse?

I stare at my phone for what seems like minutes, but in actuality, I can’t look at the sent picture with no reply for longer than thirty seconds, so I throw my phone down on the bed and pace for a bit.

There will be no sleeping. I need something to take my mind off it before I freak out.

Noah had said I could go up to the loft and draw or paint any time I wanted, and I never heard him come back. He must be doing a long tattoo tonight. I’ll go paint.

Good. Great. Excellent idea, even. Good thinking, Livvy.

I step out into the dark hallway and through the living room. The entire apartment is still and quiet. The only light is what’s shining in from the city lights in the distance out the large windows. The moon is obscured by dark clouds. Rain patters lightly against the glass.

I tiptoe slowly up the steps to the loft. But when I get to the top, hand on the light switch, I’m not alone up here.

Noah is lying on the couch, shirtless. Pants and boxers pushed down around his thighs. Phone in one hand, his cock in the other.

His large, hard, cock.

He’s stroking it. Squeezing it at the base, his tattooed hand making a fist. And I am frozen in place. Paralyzed. In shock and awe.

Then our eyes meet. “Fuck!” He sits up.

Fuck!

Knocked out of my daze, I turn away with a screech. “I’m so sorry! Oh, my god.” And I run down the stairs, skidding across the floors to Noah’s room where I close the door and jump into bed, burying my head under a pillow.

Holy fucking shit, I can’t believe I just saw Noah jerking off. And I just stood there, gaping at him.

I’m panting. Sweating. Out of breath.

My whole body is on fire.

I don’t know what to do with myself. So I check my phone, naturally.

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