“We are getting married next year, but she wants some time to redecorate the pod. That lime green kitchen she said ruins her appetite, which says a lot. My baby has a hearty appetite,” he said, chuckling.
“You look so happy,” his mother said. “You are almost, I dunno...glowing?”
“The glow is probably some expensive skin treatment he got in Switzerland,” Sarah said with a snarl. Her two children, burdened with the unfortunate trait of looking like their mother, also scowled.
“You skin looks really good, Uncle Scott. Your teeth don’t even seem that bucked anymore,” Brittany his niece said.
“Yeah, Uncle Scott, you are looking good. All the babes are going to be after you now,” his nephew Roger chimed in.
“Thanks, I think,” Scott responded, eying the odd kids who called him Uncle.
“Before anyone gets all happy, we need to meet this young lady,” Jacob his father said. “Evidently, she has been in your home, and we were not made aware.”
“You weren’t aware because she came to see me,” Scott said defensively.
“If she is going to be a member of this family, it would be nice to know how much crazy we are going to have to deal with once you are married,” Jacob said, leaning forward, gripping his steak knife.
“I had the same thoughts, Dad. By my calculations, I figured if she was so in love with me, the craziness of all of you wouldn’t run her off,” Scott said before he realized it.
“Oh, you are embarrassed about us?” Jacob asked, his ire raised three notches.
“No. You guys can be very judgmental. But yes, you will meet her. I was thinking of bringing her with me on the annual getaway in Mexico,” he said.
“That would be nice, but that is almost two months away,” Sarah snarled.
“Yep. Two months and a great deal is happening in between,” he said. “I am confident that you all will love her as much as I do.
“Of that, I have no doubt. You’ve waited a long time for the right one, Scottie. We trust your judgement,” Krista said, touching his hand. Jacob said nothing.
Scott was grateful for her vote of confidence because his was shaken. His judgement was clouded by the overwhelming desire to bury himself so deep in Zelda’s walls that his nut sack would tickle her taint. At times, he felt like a spawning salmon swimming upstream knowing full well that once he dropped his load and fertilized the eggs, it would only be a matter of time before he died. Whatever was wrong on her end, he could still feel it. Sending Pip out to guide her through the darkness she was experiencing was a tough call as well, but the similar backgrounds the women shared would be a comfort to Zelda as she found answers.
In the morning, he would be there to get some answers himself. He only hoped and prayed that the darkness surrounding her didn’t blacken her vision for their future. Losing Zelda would destroy him. Scott Berger had had enough destruction in his life; he was ready to build something sturdy. Zelda would be the foundation on which he built his new destiny.
ZELDA AWOKE TO A FEELING heavy in her soul. Scott would be arriving in less than an hour and there were things on her mind. She knew he would want to make love, but she wasn’t in the mood for lovemaking. As stressed as she’d been for the past three weeks, she had reached Pip levels. She needed some hard core, man on woman ugly bumping. She wanted the kind of dicking that made it hard to sit down, walk straight, or form complete sentences when it was over.
Frowning, she looked at herself in the mirror. Even if I answered the door butt naked, he would want to carry me to the bed, kissing me passionately as he warmed up my body. I want him to come in the door, tell me how he is going to screw me sixteen ways to Easter Sunday –then do it. I don’t want the nice guy today. Momma needs a hungry beast to blow her back out.
“Zelda, what time does Scott arrive?” Michael asked her.
“In about an hour or so,” she said, looking around the kitchen. Turning quickly, she ran back into her bedroom, ensuring she’d changed the sheets. Almost running back into the pantry, she double-checked supplies for the cookout tomorrow. She required Michael and Pip to be out of the house. Her welcome home session with her man was going to be loud. She didn’t need her brother to hear how freaky she could get.
Or how loud.
Or how nasty.
It was going to get nasty.
“We need more red cups, paper plates, napkins, garbage bags, and ice,” she told Michael. “You and Pip should head out to the store.”
“Are you trying to get rid of us, Sis?” Michael asked.
“Yes, she is. She doesn’t want her big brother to hear her and Scott going at it like two elephants in heat,” Pip said.
“On that note,” Michael said, “Persephone, please shower, get dressed, and let’s get out of here.”
No sooner than they left, Scott pulled up in the drive. Zelda, double-checking the smell of her breath, was ready in more ways than one, but her heart sank when Chandler got out of the car with two bags. Shit, there goes my chance to get nasty.
“Good morning, Madam,” Chandler said. “I hope it will not be an inconvenience for me to stay with you on this visit. The travel, the jet lag and all, I need to remain close by Mr. Berger.”
“Of course, Chandler, I have a guest room on my side of the house,” she said. “However, may I make a small request? My car is acting up and we need more ice for tomorrow. Do you mind grabbing a bag from the store? While you are there, just to be safe, grab the cuts of meat your Big Boss here likes to eat.”
Scott, quiet, stood still staring at her as she shoved a fifty-dollar bill in Chandler’s hand.
“Not a problem, Madam,” he said, understanding her desire to be alone in the home with Scott.
“Great! Here are my house keys. You can let yourself in when you return,” she said, raising one eyebrow. She pulled the suitcase from his hand, grabbing for the door to make sure he used it to make an exit. Chandler gave her a brief smile as he left the Fitzsimmons' home to seat himself in the rented vehicle.
“You got rid of him very easily,” Scott said.
“What I am planning to do to you, he doesn’t need to hear, especially his boss squealing like a little girl,” she said licking her lips.
The sight of the tip of her pink tongue sent blood rushing to his groin, his vision blurred, and he opened his mouth but no words came out. Zelda made her way to stand closer to him, her hand going straight for the bulge in his pants, running her finger down the length to the beautiful mushroom head, dropping quickly to her knees, and blowing her hot breath on the tip.
Scott swallowed hard.
“Zelda, I missed you a great deal, but I wanted to speak with you...,” he lost his words as her tongue flicked across the fabric in his pants.
“Don’t tell me. Show me,” she said, popping to her feet and running to her room like a schoolgirl wanting to play hide and seek.
Instinctually, he took off running behind her, chasing her down the short hallway into her bedroom, closing the door behind him. “I don’t want to seem as if all I thought about was making love to you. I have gifts for you in my bag.”
“Later, Scott, right now, I need my man,” she said. “Get over here and show me how much you missed me.”
Scott walked up behind her, his strong hands coming around her waist as he lowered his head, nibbling on her neck. This wasn’t what Zelda desired.
“Tell me what you want, Scott,” she said, moving suggestively against him, her round bottom moving over the bulge, feeling it jump against her hips.
“I want you,” he mumbled, trying to turn her to face him. Zelda didn’t move.
“No, Scott. Tell me what you need,” she said.
“I need you, Zelda,” he said.
“No Scott. I need my man. I need the lover, not the fiancé or the soon to be husband,” she said. “Give me what I am craving, Scott.”
Confused, he stopped, stepping away from her.
“Is this some kind of game? The box of to
ys...Zelda?”
“Good grief, man! What I want is for you to come at me like a man who has missed his woman! Talk dirty in my ear, give it to me good and hard like you just got out of a ten-year stint in prison,” she said.
“That’s not my way,” he said.
“Then get that way, because it’s what I want and what I need, Scott,” she said. “Now show me how much you fucking missed me!”
She came at him, yanking at his belt buckle, tugging at the zipper, but he remained in one spot, uncomfortable at her approach. She couldn’t read his facial expression to know whether the look was disgust at her request or confusion.
“Never mind,” she said, moving away, turning her back to him.
A lone sock which had escaped her cleaning of the room lay on the floor and she bent to pick it up. The image of her perfect little bottom aimed at him made him bold. The words she wanted he didn’t have, but he had the raw need which he pressed up against her bottom as one hand came under her frame, taking hold of her breast.
Zelda stood upright, leaning into his six-foot body, the mass of his 225 pounds holding her firm. "Tell me what you want, Scott," she mumbled as his finger pinched the nipple.
His hand slid low, going inside of her pants, his fingers slipping in between the slick folds. Rubbing. Flicking, Touching. His middle finger slipped inside of her, making her moan. “Tell me what you need, Scott,” she urged as she moved against his hand.
Grinding into him, her hand stroking the erection. “Tell me what you want, Scott.”
He moaned in her ear, trying to find the words, the scent of her readiness making him feel like a deranged mad man. He wanted to be inside of her. The dryness of his throat prevented the words he really wanted to say, but to him, they were crass and unbefitting of a man of refinement and breeding. Talking that way to a woman didn’t arouse him in any way, but it did for Zelda.
“Tell me, dammit!” she yelled at him.
There had to be a happy medium.
“Ride me, Zelda. I want you butt damn naked, these magical breasts shoved in my mouth to keep me from crying out, and you in a split riding me until my legs are shaking from the release,” he said.
“Good enough,” she said, shifting their position and pushing him towards the couch. His pants hung low around his ankles, with Zelda throwing off her clothes about the room in a rush to get nude. Her marvelous breasts thrust in his face as she climbed onto his lap, holding on to him and aiming true, lowering her body over the beautiful, stiff as a board vein popping erection.
“Damn, you feel so good, Zelda,” he mumbled, suckling at her breast. He smacked her hard on the ass. “Ride me. Ride me hard, Zelda.”
She’d barely worked him all in before she reached her first orgasm. She cried out, handfuls of his hair tufted in her hands, moaning in his ear, and she bucked against him, feeling the first of the tension leave her body.
“Oh no, you don’t,” he said. Lifting her hips up and down on him, jamming himself deep inside of her as she yelled out, exploding as the thickness of him penetrated so deep that he could feel the muscles of her vaginal walls clamp down on him. “That’s just the first one, Baby. I’m only getting warmed up.”
It wasn’t the dirty talk she’d hoped for but Scott was true to his word, managing to give her three more orgasms before he let go of his first one. He moved her to the bed, hobbling his way, landing them both in a tangled heap while pounding into her as he reached his orgasm, growling like a bear, the bed squeaking under his powerful thrusts. The headboard banging against the wall echoed her cries of passion at each thrust of his hips, bringing her to her final shattering third orgasm until she went limp under him.
Neither of them had any words as they lay on the bed, Scott half dressed, Zelda totally nude.
“Soooo, worth the three weeks wait,” he said.
“Yep,” she said, looking at him.
“I was kind of afraid for a moment there, when you walked away that you were going to the closet for your box of toys to find a replacement for me, or worse,” he said chuckling.
“Nothing in any of those boxes can replace you, Scott Berger,” she told him, looking at him out of the side of her eye.
“Good, because my legs are still shaking. Damn Zelda, that was good!”
They both burst into laughter. Life with Scott was going to be great. They just had to get past Grandma Lula tomorrow.
MICHAEL RETURNED HOME to a black town car in the driveway and loud music coming from the back porch. Concern for a noise violation at the music eased when he realized it was classical music versus hip-hop or something with a heavy baseline. After parking the car, Pip headed inside to put away the purchased items and Michael went to the patio.
He found Chandler sitting under the shade umbrella with a glass of lemonade, a book in hand, and the radio blasting.
Looking up, Chandler gave a nod to Michael, rising to shake his hand. “Good afternoon, Mr. Fitzsimmons,” Chandler greeted him.
“Chandler,” Michael replied, pausing, “you are more than welcome to come inside the house.
The ebony-skinned butler shook his head no.
“If you are uncomfortable in our home or if something is wrong, please let me know. I mean it is over 95 degrees out here,” he said, eyeing the man suspiciously.
Chandler reached for the knob on the radio and turned down the volume. A faint whimper was heard, followed by what clearly sounded like two cats in heat, fighting over a feral, mating-ready female. A loud growl was heard, then the steady rhythmic thumping of what sounded like a hammer hitting wood over and over and over. Each thud was accompanied by a loud mewl.
“What in the hell?” Michael asked.
Pip came running out of the house, her eyes wide, mouth open, running to Michael’s side. “Dear God, it sounds like a free-for-all at the cat cages at the zoo!”
The stoic butler’s hand went back to the radio, turning the music up to the volume he originally set when he poured his drink.
“I made enough lemonade for the three of us. Please pour yourself a glass. It will be a while before it is safe to go back into the house,” Chandler said. He lowered his head to continue reading the book.
Chapter 11 – A Saucy Sunday
Scott and Zelda only surfaced once to get food before disappearing into her den of love for the remainder of the night, much to Michael and Pip’s disappointment. Michael wanted to speak with Scott and Pip wanted to talk to Zelda about Las Vegas, the party, and Michael’s desire to bring her to Sunday dinner to meet their grandmother. She didn’t know if she was ready for that, especially based on what Zelda had told her about the woman.
Grandma Lula sounded like a nut.
A religious zealot of a nut who wasn’t very nice.
Breakfast, normally enjoyed in the eat-in kitchen which could comfortably seat three or four, moved to the dining room to make room for the fifth member of the newly assembled familial unit. Zelda and Scott were all smiles, but half way through their waffles, both noticed a quietness at the table.
“Why is everyone so quiet this morning?” Zelda asked.
Pip, ready with answers, provided them. “We are all traumatized from the sounds of whatever kind of freaky sex you and Scott were having yesterday. Michael is taking me with you to dinner at Grandma’s house and both Chandler and I are feeling like Hansel and Gretel knowing that old woman is going to grind our bones to make her cornbread,” Pip said wide eyed.
Scott shook his head. “Pip you are over reacting. How bad could she be?”
Zelda and Michael lowered their heads focusing their attention on the meal o the table. Grits were on the menu, prepared with milk and just the right amount of sharp cheddar cheese which made both she and Michael’s tummy happy. However, Chandler was the only one smiling.
“What the hell are you finding so amusing?” Michael asked Chandler.
“This. You. Her. Scott,” he said, grinning. “Your Texas born and raised Grandmother’s reaction to the t
wo of you bringing in a red-headed blue-eyed ventriloquist and six-foot 225-pound hairy white man is going to be bloody brilliant. I am going to dinner at 2 in the afternoon just so I can experience this first hand.”
“You are supposed to have my back, Chandler,” Scott said.
“I do, and you are going to need all the support you can get,” Chandler said laughing. “Sir, she is going to eat you alive.”
“She has no reason to dislike me,” Pip said.
“Would you care to make a wager on that? Ms. Phillips, you have been here for three weeks and are practically living with her grandson. She is going to have loads of issues with you being under his roof, in whatever capacity,” Chandler said with a grin.
“Stop enjoying this so damned much, Chandler,” Scott said. “Wait, what do you mean, Pip is living with her grandson?”
“Have you not noticed, Scott that I am sleeping in Zelda’s guest room? Where do you think Ms. Phillips is resting her red head?” Chandler asked, raising an eyebrow.
Scott looked at Michael.
Michael looked back at Scott.
Anger simmered under his tense expression as Scott took exception to the new information since he sent Pip out as a comfort to Zelda, not as a comfort for Michael. The idea of Michael taking advantage of Pip didn’t register well on his list of things a gentleman did. His hardened stare at Michael said exactly what he was thinking.
“She gets me. I get her. We hit it off. I’ve never been to Cincinnati, so I am looking forward to that,” Michael said, matching Scott’s stare.
“You are coming to Cincinnati?” Pip asked, surprised.
“Of course. I’m certain your mother would like to meet the new man in your life, considering I may be in Vegas every weekend for the next two months,” he said.
“Or I could come here on my off days since the house will be all empty with just you in it,” she said sweetly.
“That works, too,” Michael said, giving her the eye. Pip’s cheeks pinked, as she twirled one strand of red hair around her finger.
A Saucy Sunday (The Zelda Diaries Book 4) Page 7
