Page 85 of Praised
“I know you’re in love with me,” he said.
Not the response I’d been hoping for, but…
He leaned down, his glossy lips sticky and warm against the shell of my ear. “I think I’m very close to falling in love with you too, Mr. Galloway.”
I groaned at that, fingers bearing down around the soft curves of his waist.
“Say that again.”
“I’m close to falling in love with you.” He bit my earlobe and I bucked up out of the chair, grinding him down hard onto my lap.
“The other part.”
Rose chuckled low. “Mr. Galloway?”
“That’s a thousand times better than Sir.”
No one had ever, at least not outside of a business context, but something about the way my last name sounded coming out of Rose’s mouth like that, thick with sex and promise?
It would be my undoing.
“You like that, Mr. Galloway?”
He was a little shit, and he knew exactly what he was doing. So, I was thankful he didn’t stop me when I slid my hand around to the front of his shorts to busy myself with the fly.
“Right here?” he asked.
“Unless you want something more private.”
My fingertips dragged across the lace of the newest pair of panties I’d bought for him and I worried Archie’s earlier commentary about me coming in my pants was treacherously close to coming true.
“Can I have both?”
“Jesus Christ.” With my free hand, I grabbed the back of his neck and kept his face buried against the side of my throat, both our mouths beside the others ears.
I shoved my hand behind the waistband of his underwear and fisted his dick, long and hard, thick and already wet with precum smeared all across the tip. Rose moaned into my ear, hips giving a little buck.
“My friends are all watching you,” I whispered, stroking him down to the root. “They’re watching you writhe around my lap with your cock out. They’re watching what’s mine. Do you remember that time we were together, Rose? When I told you your body was mine?”
He managed a whimper.
Our bodies were so tightly squeezed together, it was hard for my hand to move, but judging by the way his cock twitched in my hand while I spoke, he was already dangerously close to coming.
“I want you to know how lucky you are,” I went on. “Sometimes Archie doesn’t let Owen come for days.”
“I would die,” he rasped.
“Owen loves it. He begs for it.”
“I’d die,” he said again, digging his forehead into the side of my face.
“I’d never make you wait, baby,” I promised him. “You’re too perfect when you come. I want to see it every day.”
“Every day,” he murmured. “Every day, every, oh, God…”
“You’re gorgeous when you want it. Humping my lap and fucking my fist like you’ve never had an orgasm in your life.”
He huffed out a desperate sound, teeth flashing against the shell of my ear.
