Lib Novel Page 69
Kevin and the guys take off toward karaoke that is being set up with Sam registering his name first. This is our cue to leave and do it soon—after Zoe answers Fanny’s question—because if Mr. Colson gets going, there will be no stopping him, and let’s just say he’s a man of many talents. But singing is not one of them.
The singing is not the only problem here because from the few times I saw this gang for karaoke nights during spring break, it got very ugly, very fast with Rick being competitive and jumping in to outdo Sam.
Newsflash: He can’t sing either.
Yet it doesn’t stop their wives from going crazy, rooting for them, trash talking the others’ husband and going as far as dancing on the bar to hype up the room. Yep. I’ve seen it and now I can’t unsee it.
Especially when my own mother would join in and Fanny attempting to twerk her behind…never again.
“Sunshine, can you please give that answer real fast because we need to go.”
“What answer?” she asks looking all innocent, but those eyes won’t fool me, she’s avoiding answering. Good thing she has me to push her out of her comfort zone.
“The one about how good my cock makes you feel.” In a flash, Zoe jumps up to reach my mouth and I catch her, holding her sweet, curvy body pressed to mine just as her hand slaps over my mouth, her big eyes, growing even larger.
“Are you out of your mind? Your mom is right there,” she hisses to me, pointing in the general direction of our spectators and then turns to Jenny, Nina, Fanny and my mom who are watching us with huge grins, looking like four cats who just caught the Canary.
“Well, Fanny, I think that just answered your question,” Jenny says with a giggle. “You kids have a good night.” She winks and takes off together with Nina to find their husbands who already started arguing which one of them will be singing “Dancing Queen.”
“That it did,” Fanny agrees and leaves us watching my teary-eyed mom.
“I’m available any day of the week to watch my granddaughter,” she says.
“She means Mellie, doesn’t she?” Zoe leans in to ask me.
“Yep.”
I hear her exhale a long breath and very quietly mumbling to herself as she moves away from me. “Should I even fight it at this point?”
“Definitely not,” I answer loudly, and she whips around to send me a cute glare that never fails to make my dick twitch.
“This is all your fault.”
“What? You wanting me around?”
I don’t expect an answer but Zoe surprises me with a soft, “Yes.”
It’s sometime after midnight when I hear the sounds of someone shuffling toward the kitchen where I am in the process of cutting up and smashing the watermelon by hand since using a mixer at this time is not an option.
The idea for this cocktail has been brewing in my head for weeks now, but after today, after feeling how much my little girl loves me, needs me, it clicked. All the pieces of the missing puzzle in my head snapped into place when a distraught Mellie nuzzled into my chest, calming down that instant.
Before meeting Zoe, each cocktail I created was based on what people generally like, what’s popular and how I can twist it. It was about the chemistry, the composition and surprise. Now? Now, everything I make holds a piece of Zoe or Mellie.
The taste of lychee and mint in my drinks belongs to Zoe. If there is an ice element in there it’s because of her ice queen attitude, only the ice has the tendency to melt around fire. And if, while someone drinks the cocktail, it stings them a little, it’s because pain and pleasure go hand in hand when it comes to that woman.
And now my sweet little watermelon has left a mark on my creative process as well. Ever since they went to sleep, I’ve been playing around with ingredients that remind me of Mel and so far, I have a menu of no less than five perfect drinks. All light and fluffy with a touch of fire.
“Matteo,” Zoe whisper-yells. “What are you doing still up?”
I take her in, standing there with her hair slightly ruffled from sleep, her tank top twisted as usual and her fucking tits spilling out of the nursing bra she wears, and if that isn’t bad enough for my poor, needy cock, the woman is not wearing any pants or shorts. Nope, only a thin layer of lace is covering her sweet pussy.
Apparently, she’s done wearing those postpartum things.
Fucking great.
It was hard enough to resist her these past days fully clothed and now she’s standing here, practically dangling a delicious treat in front of a very hungry puppy with no self-control.
“Creating, Beastie.” My voice comes out sounding strained, but she doesn’t seem to notice because she comes even closer until she is standing right by me, leaning over to sniff the drink I just made.