Heh heh…
There's not a son in this world that can kick his old man out of his mom's bed.
Flynn Taylor mimicked the little creature's elegant smile and then slowly collapsed onto the bed in front of the stunned little creature, closing his eyes.
A twitch touched the corner of Alan's eye: What thick skin.
Watching his dad's long arm wrap around his mom's waist, Alan felt displeased, stood up, and decisively stepped over his mom to stand between his parents.
Feeling the movement, Flynn Taylor opened his eyes and raised an eyebrow at his son.
The son wore a plain white nightgown; if he had a pair of wings, he really would look like a little angel.
It's just that this little angel always seemed to oppose Flynn Taylor.
Soon, the little angel lay down, and then with a bunch of wiggling, he managed to shove Flynn Taylor aside a little.
Finally, the little angel had his own territory to sleep, and he turned over, reached out his little hand, and wrapped it around his mom's waist.
