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Oh god. I feel my skin heating, my heart hammering in my chest as the image of him pleasuring himself roars back into my brain.
Another text from him, before I can reply.
I didn’t mean to be offputting. I’m sorry. If you’d like, I can give as good as I’ve gotten.
It’s ok,I type quickly, even though I’m not sure that it is. I know I’m treading dangerous, murky water here.What does that mean?
A second passes, and then another—and then a picture comes through.
Oh god, I’m in so much trouble.The thought springs into my head the instant I see it. It’s Niall, lying back in his bed just as I’d imagined. His black hair is messy against the steel-grey pillowcase, his blue eyes bright and piercing in the lamplight, and while he’s not shirtless, for the sake of the photo he pushed up the black t-shirt he’s wearing so I can see a glimpse of his firm abs and the dark trail of hair between his two v-lines, going down into his jeans.
Want me to undo the belt?
Another throb of heat between my thighs. I squeeze them tightly together, sinking down onto the bathroom floor and making sure to flip the lock. There’s another one in the main part of the suite, if anyone gets up in the night needing to pee or throw up. This one can be mine, just for now—the last thing I need is for anyone to walk in on me sexting Niall Flanagan.
Sexting. Oh god, that’s a thing I’m doing. Now. Right now.
But I don’t want to stop.
It’s fun. Flirty. The kind of thing I’ve never done, and had once imagined that if I got lucky, I might get to do with my future husband. I’d never imagined Connor being that type of man, but Liam might have been. The Connor I met in London would be.
The Connor I’m betrothed to, though, seems bound and determined to force himselfnotto want me. To stay detached. And all the while, there’s another man waiting for me to have that promised freedom, eager to get silly tipsy selfies of me and send ones back.
Something hot and rebellious flares in me.
Will you?I type back.If I’m a good girl and say please?
I think my heart is going to beat out of my chest as I wait for his response. It’s the most daring thing I’ve ever done, more so even than the photo. I remember Connor calling me a good girl at the club, how much it seemed to turn him on, and something tells me Niall might enjoy it too.
My phone pings.
Ah lass, you’re going to work me up, talking like that. But I think you deserve a reward, being so brave.
The photo that comes through is more revealing. His shirt is pushed up higher, giving me a better view of his abs, his belt and the top button of his jeans undone, showing just the edge of the black band beneath. His thumb is pushed under the fabric of the underwear, teasing that I could see more, if I ask.
I know what he’s doing. He’s giving me time to call it off, to say I was just joking, that we need to stop. He’s taking it slow, even though I know he’s probably already hard, that if we were doing this under different circumstances that text message from me might have gotten me a picture of his cock with his fist wrapped around it.
Something I suddenly very much want to see.
Brazenly, I tug down the neckline of my dress, pushing my breasts up with my arm so that even more of my cleavage is exposed. I take another picture, letting him get a glimpse of my parted lips too, and send it.
Fair’s fair,is all I send with it, and then I wait.
I wish I could see those beautiful tits in person,he texts back, and I stifle a tipsy giggle with my other hand. I can’t imagine Connor ever calling my breaststits, at least not the version of Connor I’m getting now, and it’s not even a sexy word, but something about Niall being the one texting it makes it seem different. I canhearhim saying it, rasping it in his rough, accented voice, and it sends a pleasurable shiver down my spine.
Give it time,I text back.Maybe you will one day.
Send me a picture of them. I want to see how gorgeous they are without the dress covering them.His response is almost instant, and I feel a quiver of nervousness and a thrill of excitement all at once. It makes me feel sexy, powerful, to know that on the other end of the phone, Niall is in his bed and aroused byme, waiting to find out if I’ll give him what he wants.
Show me more first,I text back, my fingers shaking with nerves and anticipation. I can feel my pulse thrumming as I wait for his response.
It’s another photo of him, this time with the jeans unzipped, his thumb pushing down the boxers so I get a glimpse of his cock. My pulse leaps at the sight of it, the dark hair around the base neatly trimmed, the shaft pushing against his boxers, thicker than I’d realized with the veins visible, he’s so hard.
So hard—forme.
There’s your more, lass,he texts with a cheeky wink.Now what are you going to give me?
I swallow hard.Fair’s fair,I tell myself, reaching behind to unzip the top of my dress so that the neckline slides down. I’m not wearing a bra, and I catch it just before it can skim past my nipples, holding it just there so that he can see my breasts and maybe just the barest hint of pink nipple, but not me entirely topless.
