Lib Novel Page 80
“Shut up.”
The bastard only responds with a snicker.
“What? Why are you all looking at me like that?” Jacob seems genuinely confused why no one is taking him seriously—apart from Alec. And to be honest, the guy is right. Not that I will volunteer to say that to the class.
“I’m still trying to figure out who appointed you the main love advisor slash creepy lactology specialist of Loverly Cave.” Joy tells him, pinching the bridge of her nose and shaking her head.
“I’m only speaking the truth, Wildflower. Well, apart from the taste thing. I have no idea if it’s actually good.”
They all start discussing the taste of breast milk but I’m hardly listening because Matteo’s hand slowly snakes underneath my shirt, his fingers trailing up toward my breasts as he murmurs, “Oh, it’s good. They have no idea how fucking good.”
My head tilts back, resting on his chest, my breaths growing more and more shallow with each second as his fingers crawl up and up. My nipples are two hard pebbled stones, leaking milk profusely, soaking my bra and shirt.
“Fuck.” Matteo’s voice is hoarse as the drops of milk land on his fingers and then pulls them out.
They are shiny with my milk, and I watch as he sticks them into his mouth right away, sucking each drop off them while his eyes are locked in on mine in a silent promise of more. That huge cock in his pants is digging almost painfully into my backside and I can’t draw another breath.
Dear God, what is this man doing to me? I am so turned on right now… I don’t even care about our friends watching us or noticing what’s going on in this semi-darkness.
“Zoe.” He whispers my name like a prayer, dragging the three-letter name into a long string, coated in lust and desire.
And I snap.
My body jolts up in one fluid move, standing up and dragging Matteo with me.
“You okay, Zo?” Joy asks, watching me grab my sleeping daughter in haste and I nod.
“Yep. Totally fine. Better than ever. Just need to go deal with these clogged ducts, you know?” I’m talking too fast, blubbering too much, and I’m not sure why everyone always talks about only men having their blood down south when they are turned on because I sure do feel those same effects on me right now.
I don’t wait to hear what anyone else have to say. I don’t even care that they are very much aware of what is going on between us. All I know is that I need to get Matteo’s lips on my body. I need to feel him. All of him. Physically. Since mentally, he invaded my head a long time ago and spread around, growing deep roots ever since that first time we met at the bar.
“Follow me, Matteo,” I tell him.
“Until the ends of the Earth, Beastie.”
I think someone coos, “Awww,” behind us as Matteo swoops in, taking Mel’s cot from my hands and we make our way to our house.
Our.
Yes, I really said that and it didn’t freak me out. Maybe because it never felt like just mine. Even before Matteo moved in, something was missing and now I know what. Or rather, who.
In the few steps it takes us to get inside, we somehow grow even more impatient for each other, about ready to tear the clothes we are wearing to tiny pieces. But Mellie has a different idea and chooses that exact moment to wake up, screaming for her dinner.
“I gotta go feed her,” I tell him.
Matteo can’t even utter a single word, simply motioning for me to go do what I have to do while he struts over to the kitchen, pouring himself a tall glass of cold water. He sees me still standing in the hallway, watching him and he groans.
“Baby, go. For the love of my manhood, please go and come back as fast as you can.” He sounds like he’s in pain and that gets me moving, running through our bedtime routine with Mel as fast as I can.
Thankfully, Mellie decides to play nice tonight and goes to bed without needing to be rocked for half the night. Once I lay her down, I quickly drag my fingers through my hair, trying to make it look as good as it can be after a day spent at the beach.
Well, good luck with that…
I don’t look even remotely sexy when I step out of my room, yet Matteo’s eyes are glued to my body, watching me as if I just walked off the runway.
Like my own personal predator, he’s perched against the back of the couch, his head tilted to the side as he watches me. “Come here,” he rasps out, extending his arm toward me, and I walk right up to him.
He is pure sin, confidence, and cocky arrogance personified. Something I’m sure he wielded plenty of times with all the girls before—including me. And I’m falling right into that trap once again.