Scott Pickett Lemonade Mouth Novels & Stories

I say placing the cans on the table. “Oh, how thoughtful. Thank you so much” She says looking at the flavor options. “I drink the stoney.” She says opening the can. She takes a big swig and then places it back on the table. “I prefer lemon twist but this will do.” She says pointing to the can. “Good to know.” I say committing it to memory. Don’t ask me why I’m doing that. “Leo can I have a soda?” Jon says running toward our table. “Hi Golden.” He says when he stops in front of me.

**Kierra** “You’ve got to be kidding me,” I complained when I noticed the only Pedialyte shelved was orange-flavored—the same one that didn’t agree with the kids’ stomach. I squatted low and shoved some bottles aside, hoping to find a spare grape or cherry flavor. “Do you need help finding something?” an employee asked. Thank God. Maybe they have what I need stashed in the back. “Yes, thank you. Do you have any other flavors besides orange?” I asked, standing upright.

"Your dad just wants to help you." He didn't respond, instead letting out another groan of discomfort as he shifted on the couch. I gently brushed a lock of hair away from his forehead. "You're gonna be okay. Just try to rest for now." He nodded weakly, his eyelids drooping shut once again. When Senator returned with the hangover medicine, we woke Scott and placed the cup by his lips so he could drink it. After one taste, he began to whine. "Ugh, this stuff tastes like... like..." Scott trailed off, struggling to find the words as he made a face of pure disgust. He pulled away from the cup.

I said, shifting the conversation, “time for dinner. Mrs. Maddy made your favorite: Caesar salad and tacos. Plus, she added the fresh watermelon juice you always ask for.” “Oh, amazing,” Jace grinned, clearly delighted. I placed the tray of food in front of him, and he wasted no time digging in. Ever since he first tried Mrs. Maddy’s watermelon juice, it had been his absolute favorite. He always asked for it, and I couldn’t remember the last day he hadn’t. I glanced back at the screen, though, noticing something troubling. The sales figures for the oldest flavor—the cream soda—had dropped drastically.

"What about Paul? Did he drink?" "Nope," Scott assured him. "Are you sure?" "He was sitting right next to me. I'd know if he drank." Sam persisted, "Then why did he have a glass with what looked like white liquor in it?" Scott waved his hand dismissively. "That was Sprite." Sam paused, feeling a pang of annoyance. "Paul, you sly fox!" he thought to himself. He mentally noted yet another score to settle.

From the tip to the neatly trimmed forest of his dark pubic hair. “That’s it,” Ace muttered. “Suck daddy’s cock. Yeah. Suck it nice and slow.” He grinned. I responded by slowing down my bobbing, drawing out each in-and-out slide. I gulped down a mouthful of precum-flavored saliva. Then I opened my mouth and slowly licked in circles around Scott’s warm, salty cock tip. Feeling the ridges where his shaft began, flicking across his pee hole, around and around. I finished by taking his cock into my mouth again and taking it as far into my throat as I could before gagging.

That was not a good start. I lined up a piece of broken lemon next to it in an attempt to soothe it, but it actually made it even worse. The lemon was not sweet, much less neutral, a bloody citric acid that made her shiver with agony compulsively begging for water. God, how can people drink that?

The man nodded his head vigorously and went to sit down, taking his suitcase with him. Adrian moved closer to her and he pulled her chair backwards. "Let us move to the sofa." She stood up and followed him to the other sofa. She sat down while Adrian walked towards the fridge at the back corner of the office. He pulled out a bottle of vodka and took two tumblers from the drawer next to the fridge. He walked over to her and placed the bottle and glasses on the table. "Amore, this is Scott. He owns a chain of jewelry stores in the city." He poured a glass for Scott and handed it to him.

"You are right, it's definitely not for me. I’m with you on that. But I do need the money." Scott grunted in frustration just as a cocktail waitress strolled in with a glass of ice and a bottle of Club Soda. Taking the tray from her, he poured the Club Soda into the glass and sat next to me on the couch, bringing the glass to my lips. "Drink." I drank without hesitation, because to be honest, I hated being drunk. I needed nothing more than to head home and fall into a deep sleep. "Thanks.” Scott smiled his signature panty-dropping smile "It’s my pleasure, Dalia." He leaned over to whisper, "Just don't forget me." He revealed that I-know-something-that-you don’t-know expression again, got up

He was thankful that Dillon turned him on to it. About fifteen minutes later, the two climbed back into Bertha with their feast. They got twenty five fried chicken nuggets, twenty five grilled chicken nuggets, two spicy chicken sandwiches, and two large fries with extra cups of cheese sauce. To round everything off, Tony got sweet tea and Dillon went with diet lemonade. The shithead loved to berate him on his taste for sweet tea. Yes, he understood that Chick-fil-A had dope lemonade. He just liked the sweet tea more. It was perfect in strength and sweetness, but didn't leave his mouth and lips all sticky and weird. Don't even get him started on diet anything. Never had he liked the acrid and