Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 80986 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 405(@200wpm)___ 324(@250wpm)___ 270(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80986 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 405(@200wpm)___ 324(@250wpm)___ 270(@300wpm)
Perhaps. But I never sleep naked. Do you?
Perhaps.
That thought made me wonder who he was, and where he was. Was he lying in bed down the hallway? I decided to tease him with the old joke that the members of the frat were all ugly, which of course was about as far from the truth as you could get. Please, I don’t want to think about a gargoyle like you naked in bed.
Yes, you do.
Dammit, he was right.
You should try it.
Was he serious? My skin heated, even though he had steered the conversation in a slightly more adult direction a couple of times in the past.
He must’ve sensed my hesitation, because he started typing again. You should try it. You might like it.
Maybe I will sometime.
Or you could now.
I bit my lip as my pulse rate increased.
He continued on. Who’s going to know? It’s not like I’d know the difference between chatting with a clothed woman and a naked one. But I sure like the idea of that second one better.
Really?
Really. You might like it too.
OK.
He sent back an emoji with raised eyebrows, and I could almost feel his surprise. Let me know when you’re nude… like me.
It should have freaked me out, that he was texting me while naked, but somehow it didn’t. I felt safe under this amazing blanket, safe from harm, and safe to explore things I usually didn’t get to.
It didn’t want to leave this warm, safe cocoon to stand up, so I rolled onto my back, bending my knees. I lifted my hips up to slide off the stretchy shorts I slept in. Night Owl was right; the bedding did feel even better on my bare legs.
It was a little harder to wiggle out of my nightgown, but it really did feel amazing to snuggle up under this warm, heavy blanket with nothing between it and my skin.
Amazing… and a little dangerous.
OK, I’m done. I felt a little shy.
How does it feel?
Really good, I admitted.
Want to feel even better?
I gasped as his meaning hit me. Yes, I was a virgin, but I wasn’t stupid. Just… inexperienced.
I don’t know. I don’t usually do that.
There’s a first time for everything, he texted, correctly guessing that when I said I didn’t usually do that, I meant I hadn’t ever done that.
I don’t really know how.
It’s easy, just like riding a bicycle. Wait, it’s nothing like riding a bicycle.
That made me laugh. Ha-ha.
But seriously, what have you got to lose? It’s your room. Your brand-new bedding. And your body. You should do what you want with it.
It took me too long to formulate my response. I don’t know what I want.
Then may I make a suggestion?
My breathing sped up and I nodded, then remembered he couldn’t see me.
OK.
My response was just two letters, but it felt like I’d taken a major step toward… something.
Good girl. Put your hand on your body. Anywhere on your body.
That didn’t sound too scary. I laid my palm on my belly. OK. I’m touching my stomach.
How does it feel?
Smooth. Warm. Soft. Except for the piercing. I traced the outline of the curved metal half ring I’d gotten when I worked at a tattoo shop for a few months during high school.
What???? You have a navel piercing?
Yep. His reaction pleased me.
How did I not know that?
I giggled. Maybe because a woman with a navel piercing and a woman without one text exactly the same way?
True, but I definitely prefer the former. There was a pause. Shit, now that’s all I can think about.
I squirmed on the bed, shifting my hips. I didn’t know why, but I really liked the idea that I turned him on. If you like it so much, I can tell you where I got it.
It wouldn’t look as good on me. I’m ugly, remember?
I remembered how often I teased him about it, but I certainly didn’t believe it was true.
Do you still have your hand on your belly? I bet your skin is warm.
It is.
Can you slide your hand up for me?
Nerves took over and I made a joke. Like up in the air?
You know what I mean. Be a good girl.
That was one of the most condescending things a guy could say. So why did it make me shiver? I slid my fingers slightly up my stomach. My touch felt different than it did when I was washing in the shower. Maybe it was because he was directing my movements. Or because I was imagining it was him touching me. I did that, I told him.
Cup your breasts. Use both hands. Squeeze them for me.
That wasn’t something I ever did, but I had to admit it felt good. And I also had to admit that maybe I wasn’t doing it just for him. I was twenty. It was probably damn well time to learn more about my own body.