The Good Mistress: A BWWM Billionaire Romance (7 page)

“Before we get down to the grub, Mila,” Lido said, swaying in the hallway, “what are you going to do about this big-ass house?”

The two models had helped return a small dose of her dignity when she was able to give Todd that money order for Blake. Yet, the month was halfway over. Another payment would be due soon. She chopped at the onions, celery and other aromatics, attempting to stay in the moment.

“You know, I could move in,” Lido offered, swaying to the smooth beat, “When I want to get away from
her
,” she cocked her head at Veronica. “I'd only be here every once in a while.” 

Mila’s throat constricted. They were just trying to help. The lovers did everything under the sun together, so there’d never be any need to “get away” from one. 

“And even I,” Veronica said, “can come clear my head for a few days...” 

“Nope. You two can't live without each other.”

Veronica came over took the ladle and spooned a bit of tomato sauce. “Mila this is... This is fucking heaven on earth. I’ve just realized why fat people get fat.”

They smiled, then turned to Lido who held up Mila’s phone. Since the Ghost Loft CD was rather loud Mila hadn’t noticed it going off on the counter. 

“Keith,” Lido spat. Though Mila and Keith had always been friends, Lido treated him like he was Mila’s ex. They did rent an apartment during grad year, along with two other friends, but this was nothing like one of those New Adult TV shows where friends hopped around. Then Warren became the soothing storm that Mila needed. During the course of Mila and Warren’s dating and subsequent engagement, Keith stayed away.

Lido answered the call. 

“Listen here, you overgrown minion, this is
not
Mila. You don't need to call, trying to
check
her. Your mother came over this afternoon unannounced. This is my baby sister’s house...”

“Put him on speaker,” Veronica mouthed. 

“You better—” Lido’s jaws clamped, she vehemently seethed. 

Mila didn't have the strength to want to know the words exchanged between the two. They detested each other, under the guise that it was for Mila’s sake. 

“... No. Lose this number, never call again!”

~~~

After the call, it took a while for the three to get back into the groove. Mila had showered and was lathering coco butter on her shoulders when her phone rang again.  She reached over and answered the call.

“Mila,” Keith's tone compelled her to speak when all she had the guts to do was answer. No other goals. She hung up.  

Less than a minute later, the phone vibrated. For the next few minutes, he called incessantly. 

Then a text popped up. 

Mila, u need me. Pick up the phone. 

The muscles in Mila’s eyelid twitched. She didn't need him. In college, he was comedic relief after a long day. But more than that, a buffer for other guys when she wanted to go to the bar and hang out without being hit on. After the small get together that left Mila and Warren chatting, Keith, a man she considered as a best friend, disengaged from her.

Keith Jameson:
You don’t need Lido to pay your mortgage.

Keith Jameson:
Mila, you’re family. Forget what my mom is harping about. I’ll help.

Something didn’t seem right. Though he’d tried to get into her panties over the years—pre Warren—Keith was sneaky. She knew he’d bring home girl after girl, but never became fazed. If anything, Mila endeavored to welcome Keith’s current flavor. Heck, she and the roommates gave Keith a gag-gift. A fake coupon for a lifetime supply of condoms.

As Mila switched her phone to Airplane mode, she put Keith out of her mind. Besides conjuring laughter after a long, hard day, Keith could be suffocating. She placed her cellphone on the nightstand and lay back in bed.

The vaulted ceiling became Mila’s focal point. She wanted to keep this home. It reminded her of Warren.
He loved me before I even knew what love was…

It had been almost three years since Mila resigned from Hewitt Corp. One of the partners still kept in touch—she’d even listen to a few proposals from time to time. Returning to the fold would be easy and help her save this home. But that lifestyle, the cutthroat mentality, didn’t sit right in the pit of her belly.

Somehow, the mysterious Blake Baldwin popped into Mila’s thoughts. He was different. She wondered why he’d pushed away her desire to fuck him in the Employee Lounge. As an analyst for Hewitt, Mila understood certain behavior. Granted, she had called him an asshole one too many times and threw away his flowers, but Mila had been wet; ripe for the taking that day.

How had she lost her mind so easily? She’d never been an owner of those cutesy little contraptions for lady parts. No dildo collecting dust. No penis envy when fighting another ex-cohort at Hewitt for a campaign. Nada.

With the shake of her head, Mila tried to extract the desire from her mind. She’d gone from being the apple of her father’s eye, to having a keen eye, and an acute sense for reshaping small businesses. Then she’d found love with Warren, only to have it snatched away.

I should have just stuck with the arranged marriage…

She held her pillow tight, not wanting to be alone. In three weeks, Mila would delight in the sweetest of sin. Blake had the ability to make her heart beat while she was in his presence. He summoned the hardest emotions, desire, anger, irritation, need…

This will be a business transaction. Just sex between two grown-ups. I am not a whore.
Mila determined that a few rules might be in order. Blake seemed to have a large appetite. She’d whet his, and he would make the numbness go away, if only for a little while…

Chapter 11

Mila

MR. CLEAN, THAT
is exactly what Mila concluded, eyes darting up and down the frame of such a large man. As he stood on her porch, with dim light glowing down, she took in those bushy eyebrows. Heck, even the fact that he was clean shaven made her feel dirty.  Even in his stiff suit, that seemed to be tailored for his rather thick neck and build, he intimidated her. He’d called himself “Lamb” and said he would be her driver for the evening.

Driver? Hmmm.

Ex-Navy Seal or Homeland Security?

Lamb’s mannerisms were stark, tone crisp and even more calculating than Blake’s. Yet, Blake’s guarded demeanor caused butterflies to take flight in her tummy.

Lamb held out a large box, shiny onyx in color and silk to the touch, and backed away.

Mila stood in her doorframe, unsure if she should grab her coat.

Lamb’s icy stare glued on to hers. “Please get dressed.”

“But...” The argument died on cherry red lips since his thick, suited frame paced back toward an awaiting Escalade. Mila turned, gripped the box under her arm, and went back upstairs.

In the bedroom, Mila chucked the box onto her bed and stood before the tall mirror that leaned against the wall.

“I look good,” she told herself. That damn Blake, he had to have known she spent valuable time determining what to wear. A deep breath fizzled out of her as Mila stepped toward her tall canopy bed and picked up the gift. Her hands untwined the satin bow. Inside, bunches of tissue paper began to fall out. Then her hands grazed an olive green teddy. Lace, with such intricate design, it was one of a kind. Lido would riot for a sultry little number like it. Next, she pulled out perfume.

A quick spritz of the French concoction cast a spell around the room. The luxurious, smooth notes proffered Mila with a delicate floral façade.

The

Bastard.

Again, she dug into the box. Stiletto heels that she paused to take a photo of and text to Lido and Veronica. Seconds later, back to back PINGs sounded as her girls replied. A smile dug at the corners of her mouth.

Then the fucker had topped it all off with a camel coat. A moan escaped as she held it to her chest. It complemented her skin tone, as did the lingerie. Each item seemed to be specially selected to embellish. To adorn. To enhance her magnificence.

Almost an hour later, she stepped out of the house with the coat covering Blake’s little specially selected treasures. Lamb got out of the driver’s side as she sauntered by the fountain. Head held high, she got into the car.

Yasmin’s gumption. Her
pre
marriage gumption encompassed Mila.

Lido’s sexy confidence.

After seven years, Veronica was her sister, too. So Mila took a dash of Veronica’s demure seduction. She'd greet Blake in such a manner. He'd cum at the sound of her voice.

When the Escalade didn't take the exit for Beverly Hills, Mila glanced at Lamb.

As if he felt her stare through the rearview mirror, Lamb said, “Just a little while longer.”

Dots of perspiration blanketed her top lip. Mila stopped herself from rubbing her palms on her bare legs. She again channeled her sisters.

The SUV pulled off the freeway and traveled into the mountains. Was there some sort of natural getaway in Southern California? The trees soared into the sky. Her stiletto tremored as Mila moved her crossed legs.

Then spears of yellow highlighted through the thick of the trees. A glass house came into view. She'd fallen for the natural views of the home Warren had bought; now Mila anticipated falling for this view too. Mother Nature was sublime.

I'll be the best fuck Blake has ever had
. At that she took Lamb’s callused, deadly hand...

~~~

There they were at the fork in the road once more. Seconds ago, Blake reiterated that the quick fuck across the accent table, their very first fuck, was just something to clear the air. He’d sent her off without words. Legs filled with lead, she started for the hallway. ‘
Go upstairs. The first set of double doors. Get in my bed. Lay back. Legs wide.’

Cool, glossy wood beneath her feet, with every step, Mila breathed in deep.
What the hell am I doing? The numbness is gone now.
His cock made her delirious. The raw roughness of the way he’d handled her body had inebriated her mind in all the right ways. Not one thought of Warren, no sadness, only primitive desire as her ass arched in the air. But if he wanted to seduce her slowly—she refused to think the words ‘make love’—how would that end? The dynamics seemed too intimate.

Mila stepped into the room, where a Cal King seemed the only focal point. It was dark outside, but the glass windows displayed a wide range of forest.

I can do this,
she told herself, yet those pretty little toes of hers stayed put.

“I told you to get in bed.” Blake’s measured tone reached out and wrapped around her.

She turned. Blake held the neck of a bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon, that cost more than a year's mortgage for Mila. He tipped the bottle back, drinking straight from it. The entire act, barbaric, yet enticing. In his other hand was a bowl of assorted fruit, strawberries, grapes, sliced kiwis. Before she could wonder about his intentions, Blake led her to the bed.

She tried to stand before him, but he commanded, “Hands and knees now, since you chose not to listen.”

Her kitty took over. No need to respond. Mila climbed onto the tall bed, one hand and one knee after the other. The Egyptian cotton within her fingers made her moan.

“Now arch your back.” She imagined his teeth were gritted. When he didn’t do anything, Mila looked back to see his lofty gaze lowered to her jewel as he took another sip of wine. Without words, but so damn controlling, Blake gestured for her to turn forward.

Mila glared at the headboard that should already be knocking against the wall. They should already be within the throes of passion.

“You still want to leave?” He asked. It seemed his voice was lowered. He must have gotten on his knees.

“Stop taunting me, Blake.” She arched her back more.

He groaned. “Look, what do we have here? Mila, I’m not even touching your pussy. But it’s so wet… pink and glistening…”

Mila’s head snapped back. “If you’re going to fuck me—”

“If you don’t turn around, I
will not
fuck you.” His glare glued onto hers. “
Who
loses?”

Mila’s eyelid twitched. Nobody in their right fucking mind said things like this. She’d had two flings during her powerhouse Hewitt days. One had been powerful, one was a coworker. But who said stuff like this? As if she lost because he decided to be stingy with his manhood. She sucked in her breath and turned around.

“Thank you, Mila,” he replied sardonically, “Now my rules.”

“Fuck your rules, Blake. I told you no spankings; Your handprint is all over—”

Mila braced herself for this newfound pleasure in pain. But his hands staked claim to her hips instead of hitting her ass again.
Damn, I shouldn’t have made that a stipulation
. She had never been spanked during sex. Liquid lust wet her mouth as she remembered him taking her over the side table.
I refuse to admit it, but my god, please spank me.

“Okay, at your wish, fuck my rules, Mila. You can eat those words later, with my cock.
If you’re so lucky
.”

“Ahhh,” Mila screeched as cold liquid poured down her lower back. It slammed the retort back into her throat, right where Blake’s erection should have been. The chilled Cabernet Sauvignon dripped down the sides of her hips, ass, and into her asshole and her already soaking wet papaya.

Like a dog his tongue lapped upwards from her slit, meandering slowly and then twining around her clit, to that soft perineum. His tongue played there for a moment, delicately placed, then her legs shook as he continued up into the opening of her buttocks.

“You’re but a virgin,” he gasped, sexy chuckle only making her want him more.

Grrrr, she bristled inwardly, as he mentioned her anal status. She decided to play by his rules.

Blake poked his tongue into her asshole for a moment, centimeter by centimeter, niftily moving his way inside. His whiskers the only roughness against the folds of her soft derrière. Now her breaths were still, almost nonexistent as he penetrated her other haven. She wanted him back in her cunt. Or if he stayed in her ass that was okay too, but his manhood was the only remedy.

Fuck me slow, fast, however, Blake, please!

Blake removed his tongue from her asshole. “We still aren’t in sync, Mila.”

Fucker, you perverted fucker, just fuck me! What do you want from me?
Eyes pleading to do his bidding, Mila turned around again, making a loud, exaggerated exhale. His index finger swiveled. A small whimper rippled through Mila’s body as her glance trained on the headboard once more.

No more words passed between as Blake repeated the process. The chilled wine slid through her lady parts, taunting her.

Then he leaned forward, offering her the bottle. She gingerly took it. Gulped down some, and on second thought, took another sip, as something chilled and round dipped into her pussy.

Her eyes narrowed, but leveled out as the small circular item went deep. THE GRAPE. Mila realized as he began to chew.

“Wow, Mila. This grape was ripe, so very succulent before, shit, I do believe your wet pussy has this deliciousness to it.”

She arched her ass more as Blake dipped another grape into her, and turned back around. It was the only penetration, and by damn, she embraced it. He laughed as she tried to meet more of his finger, but he slid the grape from her velvety fold.

“Where the fuck are my manners, Mila? You want a taste I’m sure.” He leaned over the bed. “Turn around.”

He placed the grape on her lips, allowing her juices to slide over her mouth. “This also reminds me, later, my cum will adorn that sexy mouth of yours.”

Eyes a hazy dream, she nodded. He pushed the grape into her mouth, along with his finger. He smiled. “Eat.”

The fruit burst into her mouth along with the flavor of orgasm.

“I admire your intellect, but now it’s time for you to let go. So you ready to free your mind, Mila?”

“Yes.”

Then those moss green eyes dimmed for a second. “Let’s keep at this pace.”

She huffed as he motioned for her to turn her head once more. Blake’s hand applied pressure to the small of her back, and Mila felt her flower blossoming even more. After a few more strawberries, Blake guided her onto her back, and gestured for her to scoot up the bed. They became in sync. She understood that they had finally arrived at the part that she’d dreaded earlier. The first set of double doors. Get in my bed.

Lay back. Legs wide. Her legs swept apart. Jewel glistening. His emerald gem’s locked onto her pussy. Blake stood up, massaging that gloriously thick, long member, ribbed with veins. Dipping out slowly, her tongue wet her dried lips in anticipation. Powerless, she waited. His Adams apple bobbed. His hands reached beneath and grasped at her rump as he lay on his stomach.

His mouth sunk against her ethereal bud, kissing the delicate bulb. A moan soared past her lips.

Blake’s mouth made love to her body, his tongue in harmony with her desire. She shuddered, legs bucking around his shoulders as a release rocketed through her body. He drank every bit of her orgasm. Then his large, muscular frame sunk into the bed beside her. Floating in an exultant miasma, Mila laid her head back as he took a deep breath. Her breast rose and fell, nipples erect.

Then his arm grasped her waist. He pulled her down beneath him once more. This time, glee warmed her glowing face as he handled that heavy tool of his. Blake placed his cock against her clit.

~~~

It felt as if she were sleeping in heaven. The bedroom was all glass walls and surrounded by trees in the sky. A treehouse for the billionaire. Mila had to blink twice to recognize this was a sweet hell of her own making. Her honeypot already began to churn with desire for what Blake had done to her last night.

The thought of him eating her out, so slowly, so fucking erotically, had made her want to run. Her legs had no bones while walking up the stairs last night. And, as he ate her all night long, her legs began to spasm.

“How do you feel?” Blake’s groggy voice had an allure of sexiness and beckoned her to turn over. 

“Better than I should.” The words didn’t even stumble out of her mouth. They came willingly, unlike business associates proffering the generic, “how are you… I’m fine,” response. Yes, he had squashed all thoughts of Warren. All thoughts of not being married. Blake had taken away that worry in the back of her mind about the fate of the Somali mother and child. But besides that, Mila’s heart was unsettled. This man had the capabilities to be dangerous, a treachery to her mind, body, soul.

“Talk to me, gorgeous.” There Blake went, deciphering her again. Those eyes had swept over her body a thousand times during sex as if he knew where she wanted his hands or mouth or cock. He read her to his benefit.