26. Matteo
26
Matteo
"I love you. I've loved you since the first moment I saw you. I guess maybe I've even loved you before I saw you." – A Place in the Sun
T he day took an interesting turn, and I must say, having my girls with me here was as best as it could go. Now, if my beastie would retract those claws and finally let me in, that would be the cherry on a cocktail, but she’s not there quite yet.
For a second there, I thought the walls were crumbling, but then when we played the game and I drank in answer to the question, the tiny crack was sealed so fast, I thought I had a whiplash.
What scared her? Did she figure out I was talking about her, and it spooked her?
Just what the hell happened to her in that past to make her run from love as fast as her feet could carry her?
I’m head over heels for this woman, yet her life prior to living in Loverly Cave is one big mystery. I’ve been with her, felt her body, seen her naked but not in the sense that matters.
I should say I won’t push her and I’ll let her tell me on her own, but nah, I’m not that big of a gentleman and Zoe needs that push. Otherwise, she’ll live in her shell forever and we can’t have that happening.
After all, I’ve already decided I’m going to marry this girl. So, she needs to get on board.
“I’m telling you, Jenny, this is the one. I’ve finally mastered that cabbage casserole.” The conversation is still alive around us with Nina sharing her new recipe.
“Oh, so that’s what that smell was? I was certain it was a dead skunk somewhere in our yard. Good for you, honey.” Jenny pats her friend’s hand with a sweet, sincere smile.
“Oh, I should bring you some,” Nina says to Zoe as Alec dips behind his mom and shakes his head in a violent no his eyes big and full of horror.
I look back at him, silently saying, “It can’t be that bad, can it?”
He understands what I’m asking and mimics an explosion and us, dead.
Okay, it’s very bad.
“Oh, um, that’s very kind of you, Nina, but there’s no need. Matteo is an excellent cook. So, I’m well taken care of in that department.”
Did she just compliment me? And here I thought we weren’t making progress.
“What about the other departments?” Fanny asks nonchalantly.
“Which ones?” My eyebrows pull together.
“The sex ones.”
“Okayyyy,” Zoe’s dad says, picking up his beer. “Rick, Sam, we will go over there into the farthest corner of this room right about now.”
“Nerds, your daughter is a grown woman. Surely you don’t think she got impregnated by the Holy Spirit.”
“Nope. But I would like to pretend that she did.”
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.
“Mmm, it smells fruity, and familiar.” She frowns slightly. It should smell familiar because it smells just like Mellie’s shower gel. “But shouldn’t you get some sleep? You worked the whole day and when we got home you went straight to playing with Mel. Aren’t you tired?”
A small smile pulls up on my lips. “Are you worried about me?”
“Pshh, you wish.” She pushes away from the counter, giving me an unguarded view of her perfect, round ass and lowers herself onto the chair across from me. “So? Why the sudden need to pull an all-nighter?”
I gulp and swallow a groan. Does she realize what she’s doing to me? How badly my fingers are itching to dig into her soft flesh with my cock buried in her?
Fuck. Down, Matteo, your owner didn’t give you the command yet. I shift my cock to the side and clear my throat. “When an idea pops into my head, I can’t sleep. I need to keep working it until I get it right.”
“Oh, and what is this one about?”
“Mellie,” I simply say, and Zoe’s eyes snap to mine, her mouth in that perfect O.
“Y-your drink is about my daughter?”
“Yeah, she inspired it. Well, all five of these.” I gesture to the line of glasses standing off to the side and she trails her eyes over it, her posture growing softer.
“How come you never asked about her father?”
I shrug. “And here I thought you were sick of my big head. Now you want me to ask you about me? Why would I need to ask about myself?”
“Matteo. Can you be serious for one minute?” I set the knife down and give her my full attention.
“I am. I’m Mellie’s father.” And I mean that with every ounce of blood in my body. “As for the sperm donor…” I trail off, because yeah, I have thought about him. Especially when I thought another man was coming here but it came to one simple truth.
“He doesn’t matter. He’s not here. He wasn’t here when you walked into my bar or when your water broke or when Mellie took her first breath. And if he was stupid enough not to follow you to the ends of the earth then he doesn’t matter. Any more questions?”
Zoe looks at me with her mouth agape. Those plush lips falling apart, filling my mind with dirty fucking thoughts, I can't have.
Yet.
At least she's finally done protesting the fact that Mellie is mine.
“What are you doing up?” I shift the conversation, needing a distraction from wanting this stubborn woman more than my next breath.
“Oh, um…” She tucks a lose strand of her blonde hair behind her ear as she visibly tries to pull those wall back up. “Mellie hasn’t woken up yet to eat and my boobs are killing me, they’re so full.”
I freeze. So much for that distraction . “Zoe,” I groan, tipping my head up and pinch the bridge of my nose. “One, two, fucking three, four, double fucking five.”
“Are you counting?” Zoe looks at me with one eyebrow cocked up and I nod, continuing my count. “Why are you counting?”
“Because.” I snap my head down, locking eyes with hers. “You are sitting over here, practically naked, talking about your full tits and I am many things, Beastie, but one who has self-restrain when it comes to you in not really one of them.” I clench my teeth. “So, seven, eight, fudging ten.”
“You skipped nine,” she utters breathlessly.
“What?”
“Your count, you skipped nine.” She gets up from her chair and starts moving.
“Zoe.” I say her name as a warning. “Why are you moving toward me?”
“You skipped nine,” she repeats again.
“So I did.”
“You have been there for me every single day.” I’m not sure if it’s a question but I nod anyway. “You love my daughter.” Another nod. “You make cocktails inspired by her. You learned how to change a diaper and cook for me and for some reason you want me. You want my daughter when her own father didn’t.”
She is standing so close, too close. Our rapidly raising chests practically touching with every labored breath we take. “So, why have I been refusing it this whole time?” Zoe asks but her eyes are locked in on my lips.
“I don’t know, Beastie.”
She looks up, “Kiss me, Matteo.”
“What?” Did she just really say that?
“You wanted me to beg, here I am, Matteo. I’m begging you to kiss me.”
Maybe someday in the future I will take my sweet time making her beg for my lips, then my fingers and finally, my cock. But today is not that day.
The second the words are out of her mouth, my mouth is on hers, swallowing the gasp she releases. One of my hands goes to her small, slender neck, wrapping it so I can feel the wild pulse beating against my fingers. My second arm goes to that sweet, lace covered ass and I dig my fingers deep into her flesh like I have craved to do.
Zoe jumps at my rough touch but doesn’t pull away. No, my girl fists my shirt, dragging me into her body as close as she can while shamelessly moaning and rubbing herself against me. But I have a feeling even if she were painted over my skin, that would not have been enough.
At least for me.
At this point, I’m not sure we are capable of sweet and cute kisses, because every time our lips crush against each other, they engage in a war. Raw, bloody and power-hungry. Each stroke of her tongue against mine sends a zap through my blood and I find myself biting her lower lip, dragging it into my mouth and sucking on it like my personal lollipop.
More. I want—no, need—more. So, I grab her by the waist and prop her on the counter behind her. Zoe’s head falls back, and I follow her into it, looming over her as I breath in each of her breaths, wrapping her silky blonde hair tightly around my hand until she hisses at the pressure.
More. I need more. I’m so fucking hungry for this woman; I can no longer think rationally.
I then slide my lips lower, kissing and biting her chin, soothing the stings with my tongue and I keep going down her neck, leaving my marks over her soft, pale skin. I drag my tongue over her collarbone and feel Zoe’s body shuddering at my touch, digging her fingers into my shoulders.
Just then, something wet presses against my shirt and I pull away to see what it is.
“S-sorry,” Zoe pants, looking down to her soaked shirt. “I told you I was very full.”
“Does it hurt?” I ask her and she nods.
I don’t think. I don’t consider whether it’s right or not, all I know is I need to soothe her pain, so I grip her shirt and pull it down with such force, the flimsy thing rips straight through the middle with Zoe letting out a small yelp. Her thin, cotton bra shares the same fate, and I am stuck looking at the most gorgeous set of tits.
They are so much more fuller now than they were the last time I saw her, beads of her milk oozing out of her dark pink, hard nipples. My mouth waters at the thought of having them inside my mouth. Of tasting her on my tongue.
“Matteo, what are y—” I don’t let her finish her question when I lower my head, grabbing a handful of both of her tits in my hands and wrap my lips around her nipple and she falls back with a moan, propping herself on her arms.
Immediately, the sweetest taste fills my mouth, her milk flooding my mouth as I greedily suck on her nipple while my other hand squeezes her other breast and that precious liquid covers my hand, flowing down my wrist.
Fuck, I don’t think I have ever been this fucking hard and there is no stopping the moans that come from me as I devour her tits. I’m throbbing and sure as fuck leaking in my pants.
“M-Matteo,” Zoe pants, her voice barely audible. “Please, please…” I’m not sure what is she pleading for but a second later I get my answer when I switch to her other nipple, licking over the pointed tip with the flat of my tongue and she drags her fingers into my hair, slipping the hair tie off my loose bun and wraps her little fists around it. Dragging me closer to her breasts until my face is firmly buried in her, and it’s only by sheer will and a fuck ton of luck that I don’t explode and paint my pants with my cum right there and then.
Zoe’s hips are moving frantically, seeking any kind of pressure and I slide my hand lower, cupping her pussy over the soaked panties and she lets out a guttural moan, rubbing herself over my hand.
I go to pull her panties off when her hand shoots out, stopping me and I break away from her milky tits to see what happened. Does she not want to go further?
“You can’t,” she whispers, her eyes hooded. “Not yet. We can’t go there for another two weeks.”
“Two weeks?”
How the fuck am I supposed to survive another two weeks?
“Baby, you are killing me,” I groan, tipping my head forward and burying it in between her tits, my hand still over her pussy. “But I can touch you?”
“Please do,” she almost cries out, and I don’t need anything else to press my thumb to her clit over the thin lace and rub her little nub. “Matteo?”
“Yeah?”
“I need your mouth on my tits, baby. Right this fucking second.”
“Fuck,” I whisper in adoration, feeling my dick twitch dangerously. “I love it when you’re bossy.”
I wrap my mouth around her nipple again, sucking it in and this time the scent of her arousal in the air around us, the feel of her wet pussy between my fingers, the sweetness of her milk and the harsh grip she has on my hair does me in.
My whole body vibrates as an explosive orgasm takes over me, shaking me from my toes to the tips of my hair and my cum spills all over my pants. I’ve never come without a single touch to my cock before and the thought alone makes me feral for this woman.
I start working her clit even faster, my mouth dripping with her milk, and Zoe pants, “Fuck, fuck, fuck, damn that swear jar. I’m fucking coming!” She tightens her hold on me and does just that. Her body shakes, quivering on the counter. I pull away from her tits and slam my mouth against hers, swallowing her sounds of pleasure that are mine and mine alone.
A few seconds later, her hold on my hair relaxes, her body growing lax and she pulls away. Those beautiful eyes now wide, watching me with caution and something else. Something that looks a lot like shame that has no place here.
“Um.” She swallows hard. “I…uh, I got carried away over there for a second. I’m sorry,” she says, dropping her gaze to the ground but I slip my fingers underneath her chin, bringing it right back.
“Talk to me, Beastie. What is going on in that beautiful head of yours?” Zoe tries to jump off the counter to run away without answering but that won’t be happening. So, I cage her with my arms and wait.
Eventually, her body sags as she lets out a sigh and says quietly, “I made you taste me. My milk, I mean,” she chews on her lip.
“For the record, you didn’t make me taste you. You demanded it.” Zoe starts saying something back, but I halt her, pressing my index finger to her lips. “And I fucking loved it. In fact”—I grab her hand dragging it over to my linen pants that do nothing to hide the wet spot right smack in the middle of them and place it there—“I loved it so much, I came just like that.”
Her eyes snap to mine, that delicious mouth propping open in another fucking O. “Y-you, you came?”
“I did.” I give her a crooked smile, my teeth sink into my lower lip. “I came so fucking hard to the taste of your milk in my mouth. And I think we may have a problem now.” I lean into her, greedily breathing her in.
“What problem?”
“I want more. I want to feed on you every time. I want your sweetness in my mouth.” My cock grows hard again just at the thought of it.
“Feel that?” I ask, because her hand is still touching me, and she can definitely tell something is going on behind that linen. “Just like that, Zo. Just-like-fucking-that, I’m hard for you again.”
Zoe’s chest starts moving rapidly once again, her eyes growing wild as she licks her lips while her small fingers glide over my spilled cum.
I’m fucking trembling from her touch, watching those beautiful eyes when she brings the pads of her fingers to her mouth and sucks them in, stealing the last fucking breath I had left in my body.
My nostrils are flaring like a wild bull, chest heaving, and Zoe leans in whispering, “Then have some more.” And I don’t waste another second, pushing her back and feeding on her while she rubs my cock until both of us come once more.