The Good Girl (Nashville Neighborhood #5) Read Online Nikki Sloane

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Contemporary, Erotic, Forbidden, Virgin Tags Authors: Series: Nashville Neighborhood Series by Nikki Sloane
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Total pages in book: 108
Estimated words: 101736 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 509(@200wpm)___ 407(@250wpm)___ 339(@300wpm)
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The finger buried inside me retreated. It was so he could grab at one side of my underwear and give it a tug down over my hip. My gaze snapped forward, watching in the mirror as he repeated the action on the other side, trying to work the pink satin down.

“Off,” he commanded. “And then give them to me.”

I swallowed so hard, I was sure he heard it. My hands shook as I did as told, but not because I was afraid. It was because I was so turned on, I was vibrating.

I’d barely pulled my panties over my ankles before he leaned forward and snatched them from my grasp. He balled them up tightly in his fist, and I sensed what was coming even before he said it out loud.

“Open your mouth.”

Holy shit.

My jaw dropped open with shock, but it was exactly what he’d asked for, and I stopped breathing as my wadded-up underwear was pushed past my lips. The satin fabric filled my mouth, and for added effect, his palm sealed over my lips, suppressing any sound I might make.

My gaze was fixed on the image of us. My eyes were wide and unblinking, while he resumed what he’d been doing before with his hand between my now bare lower body. Only this time he used two fingers, pumping them in and out of me at a steady, deliberate pace. The stretch of them heightened my pleasure, as did the visual of his palm covering my mouth, holding in my damp panties and my desperate moans.

Adding to it all, one strap of my dress fell off my shoulder, and the weight of the bow tying the straps together was just heavy enough to make the top of my dress peel down. It snagged on my pebbled nipple for a moment before breaking free and exposing my breast. My gaze bounced from it, to his hand on my mouth, and then to the fingers moving between my thighs.

It was so fucking erotic.

Too hot to look at for more than a few seconds, and heat blazed in my cheeks. I’d never seen myself like that, and I had to fight the urge to tell myself I wasn’t allowed to look that . . . sexual.

That dirty.

If one of my parents were to walk in right now, there’d be no coming back from this. And yet—I couldn’t find the strength to care. All I could focus on was the way Preston caused pleasure to flood down my limbs. How he seemed to know exactly what I craved and how to give it to me.

“Have you ever touched yourself while thinking about me?” he asked.

The fire inside me burned infinitely hotter. I pressed my lips together beneath his palm and nodded.

He couldn’t have looked more pleased if he’d tried. “I bet you did it right here in this bed, too.” He said it like it was a simple request. “Show me.”

My body stiffened and I choked off a sound of surprise. My shocked eyes stared at the mirror, wordlessly asking if he was serious.

“I want to see,” he said. “Show me how you do it.”

My heart tripped and stumbled. What he was asking was so personal. It was more intimate than anything else I’d ever done. Maybe even more than sex—although I wouldn’t know for sure until I experienced that.

“A bad girl would do it,” he urged.

It was my total undoing.

I let go of his hair, and as my hand slowly drifted down my body, my gaze dropped to the bottom of the mirror. I was unable to look at him as my fingers wandered lower, reaching beneath the skirt bunched at my waist.

“Fuck,” he swore the second my fingertips found the button of flesh just above the spot where his two middle fingers were driving into me. “Good girl. That’s so fucking sexy.”

His praise sent a wave of satisfaction washing over me, lighting my body up. My spine arched in response, and I had no choice but to set my other hand on the bed behind us for support.

I stirred my fingers faster, and with each tiny circuit, I was able to shed some of my shyness and lift my gaze to meet the reflection of his.

“You, Sydney,”—his breathing was hurried—“are the hottest goddamn thing I’ve ever seen.”

His words poured more fire all over me, and my skin heated to a million degrees. His touch, paired with mine, felt so good, I wondered if it should be illegal.

As the tempo of his fingers increased, I rubbed faster to match. I gasped, panting for air through my nose, and the tension inside me was so intense, it was crushing. My noisy moans dripped through his fingers.

“You’re still so loud.” His tone was teasing. “Maybe you want to get caught.”

Oh, my god. Was that true?


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