Page 36 of Blueberry Cake
“No hickies please.”
“No hickies,” he promised, fading into a moan when Queenie began to build his next climax.
Boyd
By the time Boyd unlocked his front door, he’d lost count of how many orgasms he’d had. He was fuckingexhausted. Queenie took his hand and swiftly took him into the bathroom, turned on the shower, and peeled off his clothes. As promised, cum soaked his underwear and drenched through to his jeans.
“Let’s get you all cleaned up and into bed.”
His mind was a blur as she rubbed him down and spoiled him with tender kisses and touches. She wrapped him in soft towels before grabbing his clothes and tucking him into bed. He was out before his head even hit the pillow.
He woke up in the middle of the night with Queenie snuggling him from behind. With a warm, fuzzy feeling, he soaked in the serenity of calling such an amazing womanhis—and being the little spoon.
The next morning, an odd sort of churning settled in his gut. He was forty-three and could count on one hand the number of times he’d met the parents. It felt odd to still be so nervous at his age. But perhaps his anxieties were justified. After all, this was far from a typical situation.
“What have you told them about me?” he asked, pouring Queenie a cup of coffee.
“That I’m serious about you and I don’t want them to make this awkward.”
“Fuck, why am I so nervous?”
“Because this is important to you.” She set the coffee aside and pulled herself onto the counter. “If it weren’t, you wouldn’t be feeling anything.”
“Are you nervous?”
“I am. I’m terrified my dad will ask you a bunch of awkward questions.”
“What types of things would he ask?”
“Most likely he’d question you about work and life stability. He can be an awkward soul. Mom is the social butterfly between the two of them.”
“He just wants to know you are being taken care of.”
“Yep.” She reached out, clenching his shirt and pulling him closer. “You’ll do wonderfully. I’m sure everyone’s nervous.”
“I don’t want them to think I’m an idiot.”
“They won’t because you aren’t. You are a kind, successful,charmingman.”
He cupped her cheeks, resting his forehead against hers. “I might need to hear that peptalk more than once today.”
“I should’ve printed you a shirt, huh?”
An hour later, they arrived at the café to find her parents already seated. While Queenie made her introductions, he offered a hand to her mother first. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Bardot.”
“Oh, please, call me Camila.”
Filing that away, Boyd turned to her father. “Mr. Bardot.”
“Christopher.”
Queenie tugged him into the seat next to her and gave him a menu. “We always come for the croissants; they’re so addicting.”
“Yet my husband always makes us order a proper breakfast too,” Camila added with a playful nudge.
Christopher rolled his eyes. “Who doesn’t start their day with eggs and bacon?”
“Or coffee,” Boyd finally chimed in.
