Page 80 of The Good Girl (Nashville Neighborhood)

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.

Three gray dots finally appeared and blinked, and anticipation made it impossible to move.

Preston: I’ve got something for you.

The next message was a picture, and I gasped.

I’d never been on the receiving end of a dick pic before, and up until this moment, I’d been grateful. Most of the time, dicks—at best—were funny. On their own, I didn’t find them exactly attractive or all that sexy. How I felt about them had more to do with who the dick was attached to.

But seeing Preston naked, fully hard, and a fist wrapped around his cock like he was mid-stroke, was fucking erotic. It was a miracle my screen didn’t melt.

Like me, he was in bed and had taken the picture from the chest down. His covers were pushed down to his knees. I stared at the picture in awe, tracing every curve of his body I could see. It was so nice to get to look at him however I wanted, for however long I wanted, without feeling shy.

The screen went dark, though, and his name flashed across the top of it.

“Hello?” I whispered.

His voice was like honey. “Good girls don’t send pictures like that.”

I sank down into the bed and closed my eyes. “Guess I’m not a good girl, then.”

“Are you touching yourself right now?”

“Yes.” I swallowed thickly, stirring my fingers over my clit. “Are you?”

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