THE GOOD MISTRESS II: The Wedding

by Amarie Avant

  “The door?” His eyebrows came together, and then Blake laughed. It was on the tip of his tongue to mention that the door was the least of his worries. He wanted to tell her she should see the kitchen but thought better of it. “You need therapy.”

  “Where I’m from, we don’t do therapy. We talk to our mothers and to our family. We work things out.”

  “Have you talked to your mom about Todd?” Blake gritted out the name.

  “I attempted to. I did talk to my dad about it. My mother is more of a sweep it under the rug sort.”

  “I’m your family. Talk to me.” He ordered.

  She paused for a moment, unsure how to respond, then sighed. “Aw, Blake.”

  “Mila.” He clamped a hand on her thigh and pulled her forward. Her eyes began to glaze with lust. He kissed her lips but set aside the swelling of his cock and pushed a pillow over her perky breast. “How many times have I asked you about nightmares? From this point forward, we will not hold anything back from each other.” His hard gaze swept away from hers for a moment. Aside from forcing Lido to act presentable at our wedding, we will not hold anything back.

  He rubbed his thumb along her bottom lip. “Woman, don’t you know that your body calls to me? When you sleep . . .”

  “I know, Blake. You mentioned that the first time I had a nightmare about fleeing my hometown.”

  “I know you, Mila. And I’m marrying you, so that means God blessed me with a lifetime of learning your quirks and learning and loving you. Don’t hold shit back. Let’s get started on eternity.”

  She reached out for him. Blake stood up. “Talk to me. I can’t keep begging.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean, Blake.”

  “It means that these soft little hands,” he said grasping hers. “Bewitch me and make me forget what’s important. Like you opening up to me and letting me be there when everything isn’t perfect. Get dressed.” He let her magical hands go. “I’ll be in the hallway.”

  “Oh, so now I’m a siren or some sort of goddess that we can’t talk while I’m naked?” She chuckled.

  “Mila, I swear to you that you’ve got me wrapped around your fucking pinky. All I ever think about is pleasing you. So, dress. And we are going to talk about what makes you sad. When that is over. We will live out me making you happy.”

  His roar stopped any of her attempts to speak. Blake noticed a spark of embarrassment from Mila before she silently rose and headed to the dresser for underwear.

  As he stood in the hallway, he recollected on a time when his mother dropped him off at Serenity’s.

  “You can stay too,” Serenity had said.

  “Yeah, I know. Girl, you are like a sister to me. We went hungry together. But you’ve got a kid. Now, you’ve got an extra mouth to feed. Young as hell but you’re doing your thang.” His mom had turned to him.

  She played with her eyebrow ring. “Ma loves you, but I have something in me that . . . one day, I’ll talk to you about it, baby.”

  She never did. His mom died in jail. Blake was young, but he understood that feeding him and feeding her addiction were harder than being a real mom. His mother just didn’t have it in her for it. Her cheeks were tinged with embarrassment as she backed away from the apartment door.

  Mila leaned against the doorframe dressed in jeans and a hoodie.

  “Didn’t know if we were leaving or not.” She glanced down.

  “You’re good. We’re gonna take a walk.”

  Mila

  At the stench from below, Mila wriggled her nose and hurried down the steps. “The lamb. I forgot the lamb.”

  Blake grabbed her wrist. “Don’t worry about it.”

  “Blake, it has to be dry by now.”

  He pulled her to his chest. “Not so fast, Mila. After the walk, we can talk about dinner.”

  “You are serious about me verbalizing my bleeding heart,” she mumbled. I feel like . . .

  “Yes.” He let her go. His fingers glided through hers, and he escorted her to the back door. They descended the weathered wooden staircase to the sand.

  “I should’ve fought harder,” she mumbled. “My mind keeps replaying the fight I had with him. I told myself to keep at it. Punch him. Do anything I could to keep him down.”

  “Mila, you did. Some women might not have gotten that far.”

  But I always give up. Lido manipulated then walked all over me these past couple of weeks and . . . “Blake, Todd could have—”

  “He didn’t, baby. You did your best. And I got there.”

  “What if you didn’t make it in time?”

  His broad shoulders shrugged somewhat. “We don’t need to live in what ifs, Mila. Baby, forget that I came. You could’ve been in a more compromising position, Mila, had you not fought for yourself.” His voice trailed away. Blake hugged her tightly. “You did your best. And I couldn’t live with myself if the unthinkable happened. Mila, you are my world.”

  “I love you.” She clung to his thick biceps and held onto him for a while.

  He murmured his love against her forehead and began to walk again. “Is that all you have bad dreams about?”

  Mila grumbled. “You love seeing right through me, don’t you?”

  “I live to see your smile.”

  Although, Mila wasn’t quite ready to look the fool after Lido’s latest antics. She did something she couldn’t imagine ever doing. Mila told him about her family’s departure from Somalia.

  The sun had darkened from a deep indigo to a pitch black, with a few token stars and the slither of a moon as she remembered being told to dress and pick your favorite stuffed animal. Yasmin had dumped her private school satchel and stuffed it with modest clothing and undies. As she talked, she told Blake of the government officials coming to her home and questioning her father, and how he had pledged allegiance to a man she later knew caused the genocide of her people. Her throat was constricted when she talked of the stuffy car ride, ending with the young woman and the toddler.

  “That was years ago. Not even sure why I still fixate on her. Lord knows I saw more than a thousand people walking alongside the road.”

  They continued to walk near the water hand in hand. Blake told her about the last time he saw his mom, which was still fresh on his mind while they walked.

  Instead of sadness, she felt a relief about their talk. He had asked questions about the woman and child. She had comforted him about an addicted mother and child homelessness.

  In the next instant, Blake swooped her in his arms. “Fifteen years ago, I married into a rich family. For a guy who came from nothing, I didn’t care what anyone thought. I don’t know how I could have been so stupid. I fought hard to prove myself to Diane. To be ruthless and money driven.”

  Mila nodded. “Wow,” she said under her breath. She did not feel a single tinge of jealousy for the woman who had married him first.

  “I turned into a man who could never be satisfied. I was a dick. She was a brat. Then I met you.” He crushed her body against his. The rough pawing of his hands against her waist felt good. He craved ownership, and her body ached for it just the same.

  “You’re totally, utterly good, Mila. Not a single flaw. You put others before you.”

  She almost let the thought of her middle sister permeate her mind, but Blake captivated her, even in the darkness.

  “I’ve found something that my heart longs for in you, Mila—fucking raw goodness—and I will do anything for you.”

  “Baby,” she moaned against his lips. “You can’t do any more for me than you have. At least, I don’t think so. You treat me in ways that make me know God has blessed me.” Her voice trailed. She was at a loss for words. At thirty, Mila had lost her best friend and fiancé. She had never been in love with Warren and hadn’t expected true love existed. But he had been the closest thing to perfect. Now, Blake had his flaws, but he exceeded the mere definition of perfection when it came to a man loving a woman.

  “There’s something I will do
for you, Mila.”

  “What’s that?” Mila’s dreamy brown eyes sparkled with inquiry.

  Instead of answering, Blake kneeled in front her. The moisture from the damp, salty sand permeated his slacks. His fingers roamed over her jeans, beneath her hoodie, and caressed the supple flesh.

  “Can’t tell you now.” He unclasped the button of her jeans.

  “Mmmm, why? Tell me why before my mind forgets.” Mila’s fingers kneaded the back of his neck while his tongue slithered over that soft patch of flesh above her pussy hair.

  “You won’t approve.”

  “Oh, that so?” She giggled while forcing her hips down on his fingers. “Blake, I cannot approve of most of the things you do—granted, I’m indicating while in bed—but I love every nasty little deed.”

  “You like it nasty?” He worked his fingers in her core.

  “I like it nasty, dirty. I like it any way you will allow,” she murmured. “Damn, Blake, baby. I’m going to cum all over your fingers.”

  “You think I’d let you squirt all that good tastiness on my fingers when I could be drinking?”

  “I don’t think so, Blake. It’s frigid,” she chuckled. “And that’s not even a term that I use, so you have to understand that I’m very cold.”

  He laughed while continuing to work his slick fingers in her core. It was a job just twisting his fingers around in her tight jeans. “I’ll make you warm,” he promised while beginning to pull at the material.

  “Oh, I hate you, Blake,” she groaned. Her mouth spread into a smile as crisp, salty air brushed along her bare bottom. He unzipped his pants, and Mila handled his heavy, thick shaft as she straddled him. Her knees touching the damp sand. A tremor shook through her. Blake reached up and pressed his chest against hers. Although her upper half was warmly confined in a hoodie, he rubbed at her hips while his cock slid ever so slowly into her valley. The hard, hotness of his dick warmed her to the core.

  With the sound of the ocean lapping against the shore behind them, Mila began to ride him. Their mouths connected. The warmth of their breath and tongues caressing each other was enough to spark a flame.

  “You hot yet?” he asked. A cocky grin and sparkling green eyes made her lose her mind.

  “Not until your hot cum skirts inside of me.” She winked.

  “Well, I’m good. That pussy of yours is super tight and super hot.” He gave a shrug. She squeezed his bicep as hard as she could, but laughed, causing the walls of her nether regions to contract onto him. Blake grunted in response, loving the feel of her fisting his cock with her pussy.

  He rubbed the goosebumps over her silky soft thighs and hips as Mila continued to glide along his shaft, moaning and arching her back until she caressed her g-spot to no end. The orgasm rippled through her. The cool wind along her skin was no more. The only thought on her mind was just how good it felt with his volcanic seed soaring through her body.

  ***

  The day for the pageant had arrived. Mila almost felt like sinking back down into bed as she woke for the day. For the next few hours, she’d need copious amounts of caffeine to survive. Blake was showering, so dressed in tapered pants, booties, and a blouse, she went downstairs for a quick breakfast. The damage to the cupboards from the fire had been repaired in record time.

  Mila was astonished to see Parker’s back to her seated at the marble waterfall island with a bowl of yogurt in her hand. Maria placed an egg white scramble with avocado slices at the place setting next to her.

  “Good morning, Mila,” Maria greeted her with a smile.

  Parker turned around just as she said hello.

  “Ah, Mila, you’re ready to start the day?”

  “Yeah.” Mila nodded slowly.

  “Good. I have all the major news stations prepared for this evening. The ladies from The View would like you to visit with them, but they will wait until after the honeymoon to ask about the pageant, and of course, the wedding. Blake declined Good Day LA. He said you’d be sleepy this morning and needed your rest.”

  “Oh, he did, did he?” She took a seat. Although she could’ve slept longer, Mila rarely beat Blake at getting dressed, but today, she had. “Um, I’m not sure about having a newscaster at The People’s Love Project. My assistant, Stacy, has mentioned obtaining consent forms before for—”

  “Done.”

  “Oh. But—”

  “Every last mother and child who has ever signed into your nonprofit has agreed to—”

  “Parker, while I’m aware that you are more than capable, this is my first pageant. I need to have some of the kinks ironed out before—”

  “Nonsense,” came a familiar, sexy, dominating voice. Blake’s fingertips brushed through the hair at the nape of Mila’s neck, and he kissed the soft patch of skin behind her ear. “Anything my wife does will be the best.”

  A smile blossomed on her lips. “Parker has the press coverage ready. My assistants are helping Stacy and your team. And now, we have a date with a swan.”

  She did a double take. For a moment, Mila wanted to call Blake crazy. When they met, she knew for a fact that he was missing a few marbles. Fine as hell, but so arrogant he was borderline psychotic.

  “Swans, they mate for life.” Parker’s thin lips curved into a smile for the first time.

  “Humph, devils in disguise if you ask me,” Mila said under her breath. Maria turned toward the sink, but not before a slight smile was revealed. Parker seemed bewildered by her statement.

  Blake took a sip from Mila’s coffee cup, and then said, “C’mon, Mila, I don’t need you developing a fear of swans.”

  She scoffed, pulling her cup out of his grasp. With a disdainful look, she placed the mug down. He’d downed it all. Now his hand was at her hip, gesturing for her to rise.

  “Blake, I don’t—”

  “Shhh, beautiful. Allow me to right my wrongs.”

  “Okay, then give me a blood transfusion.”

  He laughed while taking her hand.

  “No, really. Before I took my house shoe off, I bled half to death.” She kicked up her bootie. “I’m a survivor. This time I’m ready.”

  They headed toward the French doors that led out to the backyard. Since Blake was laughing at her jokes, she tried on another one. “And if that little fucker who was acting like we’d abused animals so much as looks at me sideways this time—”

  “He’s not.”

  “Good. Because I was going to give him . . . give him . . .” Mila was rendered speechless as she glanced out the glass door. With her lips parted, she walked out just as Blake held the door open for her. Then she was looking up, up, up, at a stuffed animal swan, almost three stories tall. The backyard was huge. But where she imagined her children growing and running around, playing soccer, there was a humongous swan!

  “I had him flown in, lifted by cargo helicopter, just for you.”

  A bubble of laughter erupted from her abdomen. She slapped at his arm. “You played me! I thought. I was entirely too funny. You were just laughing at my jokes and then . . . and then . . .”

  Blake pulled her into his arms.

  “This is a very awkward gift, Blake.”

  “I know, but I told you that I’d exceed your expectations, beautiful.” He held her at arm’s length. “Besides, the swan is positioned to look inside of our bedroom. He can watch us fuck.”

  “You are so nasty.” She squeezed the words in before his lips descended on hers.

  “Nasty as can be,” he said between kisses.

  “This is weird.” Mila couldn’t stop chuckling. “But I think you making me laugh is better than any other gift you could give.”

  “We’ll see what you say when you see the diamonds you will be wearing during our wedding.” He gave a wink.

  ***

  Later that evening, Mila was not pulling out hair or anxious about her first pageant. Her thoughtful, soon-to-be husband had truly assisted with everything. Donning a long red flowing gown, Mila sat with Blake at her
side as she watched the young ladies of all ages come up to the stage at The People’s Love Project.

  Zenobia was on a panel with three other female business owners, critiquing all the girls on their attire and talents. From toddlers to teens, each girl left the stage with a smile on her face as the women not only encouraged them but gave them praise.

  Due to the level of talent everyone displayed, all the little ones were automatic winners. Mila was further shocked at Blake’s hand in her nonprofit when each child came back on the stage, and the curtains opened, displaying their own Toys R Us worth of gifts to choose from.

  They took a break before awarding the adolescent years of twelve to nineteen. Zenobia came over as Faaid went to the restroom and claimed the seat next to Yasmin, who was opposite Mila.

  “I can’t do it.” Zenobia rubbed a hand over her face. “I have to choose one of these young women for a scholarship? This will be the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do.”

  “We could give them all scholarships,” Blake suggested.

  “Hold off, Santa.” Mila gave his hand a loving squeeze. “We can’t award them all the same.”

  “I’m sure even the underdogs would be happy with a tiny contribution to their education,” Yasmin said.

  “Humph, Yas, I was beginning to think that big mouth of yours had a calling for seeking out justice by any means,” Mila began. Zenobia cracked up at that.

  “True,” Zenobia nodded. “That day at the spa.”

  Yasmin blinked with a bewildered look on her face.

  Both Mila and Zenobia said, “Let me bring this to your attention . . .”

  “Oh.” Yasmin waved them both off. “Veronica said the place was the crème de la crème of day spas, so I was only obliged to let them know that a few of their towels weren’t soft.”

  Blake slipped into their conversation. “Alright, ladies, looks like it’s time to judge the girls. People are returning to their seats.”

  “Who are the judges leaning toward,” Mila quickly asked Zenobia.

  “Can’t tell.” She winked as she stood. “But Nkem killed it.”