Page 17 of Whispered Promises

Fuck it. I have time.

Squirting some more shower gel into my hand, I slide it around my cock, giving it a firm tug, then I stroke up and down. My head drops back, my eyes falling closed as I picture Rosy as she was today; her eyes big and wide, a blush creeping up her neck and covering her cheeks.

Then in my mind, she falls to her knees, a soft cold hand gripping my dick tightly as her plush, wet lips slide over the tip. Her tongue circles me, making everything slippery and warm until she hollows her cheeks and messily sucks on me.

A pulse shoots down my balls; my hips thrust into my hand as I increase the speed, tugging faster and harder.

Stumbling forward, I brace my other arm against the wall, fucking my hand as my thoughts turn to Rosy moaning around my dick, her pupils blown wide with lust. She moans heavily around me, her eyes fluttering closed as she starts to rock back and forth, her hand shoved down her trousers as she rubs herself off.

I bet her pussy is so pink and pretty.

“Fuck, Rosy. Take it.” My words punch out in rough, heated pants as my cum shoots out, painting the tiled wall.

Well, shit, that felt good. Really good. I bet the real thing with her would be mind blowing.

Giving the water a moment to wash away the mess, before I reach out and twist the nozzle, shutting the shower off. Fuck, it’s steamy out here. The balmy heat prickles across my already sensitive skin.

I step into my bedroom and ignore the dirty laundry scattered sporadically across the room. Pulling out a pair of shorts from the wardrobe, I drop the towel and yank them on, then pull on a T-shirt and head out into the living room.

“Do we have any snacks or appetiser type stuff? I’m starving,” I ask, padding barefoot over to the kitchen island and planting myself on the stool next to Nate.

“You just had a snack,” Bry scoffs as he washes something up in the sink.

“That was a while ago. I already burned that off.”

“It was fifteen minutes ago. What can you possibly do in that time to burn off half a bag of crisps?” His eye roll is definitely visible this time as he turns around, wiping his hands dry on a tea towel before tossing it over his shoulder.

“There’s a lot that can be done in fifteen minutes. Ain’t that right, Nate?” Swivelling on my stool to face him, I clap him heavily on the shoulder.

He shrugs my hand off and smirks. “Don’t ask me. I like to take my time. Not everyone is over and done as quickly as you are.”

“I’m hurt, bro.” Clutching my chest, I pout at his mean words.

“I’m sure,” he grunts. A man of many words is Nate. He tosses something into his mouth and chews.

Launching myself at him, I stuff my hand into the bowl that’s in front of him, pulling out a crispy potato ball. I chuck it into my mouth before he can snatch it back.

“Fuck, that’s good. Why are you hiding snacks from me? Wait, how come you got snacks?” My voice is whiny, but they left me out. They know I love snacks.

“Because you eat everything, then there’s none left to share with anyone else,” Bry states dryly, but I’m sure there is a hint of endearment in there somewhere. “You can have these, but that’s it until Rosy arrives. Otherwise there won’t be any food left for her.”

He nudges a small bowl of the crispy tots across the counter, and I dive in. Honestly, he’s probably right, but he won’t hear me admit that.

A soft knock sounds from the front door, and I leap up from the stool, dashing to answer it before the others can. I open it wide, and Rosy stands there, wringing her hands together in front of her.

“Come on in! Mi casa es su casa,” I say, stepping back and gesturing for her to walk in.

“Oh, hi. Thank you.” A blush creeps up her neck, and her awkwardness swirls around us. It’s strange to find it so cute.

Dropping my arm across her shoulders, I guide her back into the living area, keeping her tucked against me. She smells good, all freshly showered and fruity.

I love raspberries. I wonder if Bry has any for dessert.

“Guys, this is Rosy. Rosy, these are the guys,” I introduce, waving my hand between everyone.

“I don’t think she’s going to just call us all ‘Guy’, Max.” Noah laughs, walking over and reaching out a hand. “It’s great to meet you, Rosy. I’m Noah. Bry’s over there behind the counter.”

Her gaze travels over to the kitchen, and she offers Bry a small wave.