was eyeing me, trying to figure out what was going on in my head.
“I was just about to,” he mumbled and I jumped out of his arms, faking excitement.
“Oh, good! I’ll make us something. You’ve been cooking this whole time; I need to make it up to you.” I fake-smiled and walked into the kitchen. He let me have my space, so I turned on my cell phone for music and got to work on an awesome meal. Anything to distract me from realizing something big. Something I was in no way ready to admit.
Chapter Eighteen
I was swaying my hips and mixing the kick-ass chili I made when a song I had forgotten all about came through my little speaker. The strumming of the guitar was like having an epiphany. I grabbed the spoon I was stirring with, seductively licked it clean, and started singing the words into the spoon like it was a microphone.
I started belting out the lyrics to Stacy’s Mom by Fountains of Wayne in the kitchen, and made a decision that, whenever I had a girl, because I would have one of course, that I would name her Stacy. I was going to be Stacy’s mom. I would be a MILF. This song was going to be dedicated to me one day. It was now a life goal.
I swished my hair around like the rock star I was and started giving this song my everything. This was my song, after all. The song was coming to an end, I was mid-hair twirl and boob grab when I saw him leaning against the wall, watching me. BUSTED.
“Wonderful performance.” He was fighting back laughter, with a big grin plastered on his face.
“Well, it’s my song, sooo…” I finished my hair flip and gave my boob one last grab for his viewing pleasure.
“Your song?” His head turned to the side like a confused dog. It was cute.
“I’m going to be Stacy’s mom. When I have a girl, I’m going to name her Stacy, and I will be her hot mom that her friends will want to see. A MILF.” I gestured to my body like it was obvious they would want to see this hot mess. He shook his head but that laugh he was holding onto came out. It was going to come true one day; he could laugh all he wanted.
“Mad woman.” He walked over to me and kissed me. It was a possessive type of kiss, a sweet kiss. One that said I can’t believe I like your brand of crazy, but I do. I really do.
I kissed him, then smacked his ass with my spoon. He pulled back to look at me. Did you really just smack me on the ass with a spoon? was written all over his face. I had a yeah, bitch, what are you going to do about it? expression on my face.
We were having a conversation with our facial expressions and it was fun.
“The spoon did it all on its own. I had no control over it.” I did it again and held a semi-serious face. I was in a playful mood and currently that meant smacking Jake on his delectable derriere. How he reacted would show me a lot about this thing between us, and by the look on his face, he was going to retaliate and I should run. Now.
I did.
I took off and headed up the stairs. He caught me at the last step, took me to the ground with my ass up in the air. I laughed loudly when he popped my ass with some sort of kitchen utensil. Spatula, maybe?
“Ah!” I cried out and laughed at the same time.
Then he abandoned his weapon and moved on to a far more painful form of torture: tickling me.
I thrashed and tried to get him back, or get away, but I was completely at his mercy. I saw the two cats were coming in to join the fun. Both Binksie and Casey were intrigued by my screams. They batted their paws at both Jake and me, not sure whose team they were on here.
I managed to turn my body around so he was facing me, wedged between my legs. He was still tickling me but I managed to get a jab of my finger in a few times, until he grabbed my wrists with one hand and pinned them above my head. Our faces were inches away from each other, and suddenly the playfulness left the air. Only thing left was the static sexual tension and emotions.
This would be a moment of
“I was just about to,” he mumbled and I jumped out of his arms, faking excitement.
“Oh, good! I’ll make us something. You’ve been cooking this whole time; I need to make it up to you.” I fake-smiled and walked into the kitchen. He let me have my space, so I turned on my cell phone for music and got to work on an awesome meal. Anything to distract me from realizing something big. Something I was in no way ready to admit.
Chapter Eighteen
I was swaying my hips and mixing the kick-ass chili I made when a song I had forgotten all about came through my little speaker. The strumming of the guitar was like having an epiphany. I grabbed the spoon I was stirring with, seductively licked it clean, and started singing the words into the spoon like it was a microphone.
I started belting out the lyrics to Stacy’s Mom by Fountains of Wayne in the kitchen, and made a decision that, whenever I had a girl, because I would have one of course, that I would name her Stacy. I was going to be Stacy’s mom. I would be a MILF. This song was going to be dedicated to me one day. It was now a life goal.
I swished my hair around like the rock star I was and started giving this song my everything. This was my song, after all. The song was coming to an end, I was mid-hair twirl and boob grab when I saw him leaning against the wall, watching me. BUSTED.
“Wonderful performance.” He was fighting back laughter, with a big grin plastered on his face.
“Well, it’s my song, sooo…” I finished my hair flip and gave my boob one last grab for his viewing pleasure.
“Your song?” His head turned to the side like a confused dog. It was cute.
“I’m going to be Stacy’s mom. When I have a girl, I’m going to name her Stacy, and I will be her hot mom that her friends will want to see. A MILF.” I gestured to my body like it was obvious they would want to see this hot mess. He shook his head but that laugh he was holding onto came out. It was going to come true one day; he could laugh all he wanted.
“Mad woman.” He walked over to me and kissed me. It was a possessive type of kiss, a sweet kiss. One that said I can’t believe I like your brand of crazy, but I do. I really do.
I kissed him, then smacked his ass with my spoon. He pulled back to look at me. Did you really just smack me on the ass with a spoon? was written all over his face. I had a yeah, bitch, what are you going to do about it? expression on my face.
We were having a conversation with our facial expressions and it was fun.
“The spoon did it all on its own. I had no control over it.” I did it again and held a semi-serious face. I was in a playful mood and currently that meant smacking Jake on his delectable derriere. How he reacted would show me a lot about this thing between us, and by the look on his face, he was going to retaliate and I should run. Now.
I did.
I took off and headed up the stairs. He caught me at the last step, took me to the ground with my ass up in the air. I laughed loudly when he popped my ass with some sort of kitchen utensil. Spatula, maybe?
“Ah!” I cried out and laughed at the same time.
Then he abandoned his weapon and moved on to a far more painful form of torture: tickling me.
I thrashed and tried to get him back, or get away, but I was completely at his mercy. I saw the two cats were coming in to join the fun. Both Binksie and Casey were intrigued by my screams. They batted their paws at both Jake and me, not sure whose team they were on here.
I managed to turn my body around so he was facing me, wedged between my legs. He was still tickling me but I managed to get a jab of my finger in a few times, until he grabbed my wrists with one hand and pinned them above my head. Our faces were inches away from each other, and suddenly the playfulness left the air. Only thing left was the static sexual tension and emotions.
This would be a moment of
Similar Books
