“Dude, you don’t know my mom. She’s subtle. She suspects something.”
The googly-eyed look returned to Camilla’s face. “You mean that I’m pregnant?” she mouthed, making a rounded gesture over her abdomen.
“Yes, if you drink water or something nonalcoholic, she’ll become suspicious that you’re pregnant.”
“You get all that from a request for a drink?” Ben asked.
“Mom is like Wile E. Coyote. Do not be fooled. She’ll go to great lengths. She drives me crazy with it. Baby, you want me to just have a talk with her?”
Camilla smirked and shook her head. “Nope. I’m having fun. I want to see how long she’ll delve before she finally gives up and just asks.”
Quinten laughed out loud. “Challenge accepted, baby.”
Camilla smiled at him and filled the kettle with water. “I’m in the mood for cocoa.”
Thirty minutes later at bedtime, his mom looked fit to be tied and his dad looked thoroughly amused. Camilla had managed to give nothing away, and Quinten realized he hadn’t smiled that much in a long time. His heart was just so full of love for her, the way her eyes sparkled as she conversed with his mother and father. He could tell Mom and Dad were both utterly taken with her. The one vital piece of information that he did part with was that they all lived together in the house, which neither parent batted an eye at. His mother reminded him that they’d met Ethan, Jack, Adam, and Grace at The Dancing Pony when they’d visited one evening a few months before Camilla had begun working there.
“Sweetheart, you might be surprised by how progressive our beliefs are,” his mom said, amusement and acceptance in her eyes. “If you’re happy, we’re happy. Just be very good to each other.”
His dad patted his mom’s leg gently and said, “Well, if we’re getting up early tomorrow we’d better get our rest. That was a long drive.”
His mom made a point of hugging Camilla good-night and then let his dad draw her down the hall to the guest bedroom when it was clear she would prefer to keep chatting. Camilla’s cheeks were glowing, and she had a big smile on her face when he turned back to her.
“I adore your parents! And your mom is so tiny! She’s actually shorter than me! I’m going to have so much fun shopping with her tomorrow. She knows. I know it. She knows everything, she’s just waiting for one of us to let on so she can say ‘gotcha’!”
In their bedroom that night, Quinten and Ben bracketed their lover, standing beside the bed, and stripped her silently. Using his hands and mouth, Quinten showed her how much he loved her. Ben wrapped his arms around her shoulders and held her steady as Quinten kneeled in front of her and draped one of her thighs over his shoulder and licked and kissed her pussy until she came with a sob and a small cry.
Ben allowed him to take the lead, and they both made love to her, one after the other, giving her whatever her heart desired. Lucky for them, she desired the two of them.
* * * *
The following morning, Quinten’s mom brought out the big guns when she placed a small, dilapidated suitcase on the table at breakfast. “Do you remember this, Quin?”
He fought the nice juicy curse that nearly burst from his lips. This is gonna be embarrassing. “Mom, you saved this?” He wasn’t exactly pleased about that fact.
“Aw, Quinten! Is that your little suitcase?” Camilla’s eyes sparkled as she stroked it with great interest and curiosity. “What’s inside?”
His mom had an evil gleam in her eye as she popped the catches and his childhood memories were once again exposed to the light of day.
Camilla struggled not to turn into a puddle of sentimental goo. He could see her effort to hold her reactions in check to a normal, not-hormonal-and-pregnant level. His mom lifted the first item out, a dilapidated and well-loved stuffed horse, and said, “This was his first stuffed animal. He called it Rory, which was his best attempt at ‘horsey’ when he got old enough to start talking. He carried it around until he was nearly ready for kindergarten.”
“Mom,” Quinten groaned, wishing for a rock to climb under.
Camilla pressed her lips together and giggled as she held it and stroked it. “Rory.”
Ben joined the fun, a shit-eating grin on his face as he sipped his coffee. “Hey! He-Man! I remember him.” He lifted the aged action figure from the case and made the requisite sound effect as he pushed the button on the back, making the action figure twist. “Power punch!” Ass kicking was in order when Ben delved into the suitcase. “What’s this?”