The Good Mistress: A BWWM Billionaire Romance (4 page)

Chapter 5

Blake

DEMEANOR STIFF AND
devoid of emotion, Blake sat in his office in his Los Angeles-based firm, located in Santa Monica. Though he had the large, corporate headquarters in Silicon Valley, like the other big social media outlets like Facebook and Twitter, this was home for Blake’s most trusted workers. The building windows were tinted black. Inside, geeky electronics dotted royal blue glossy tables and chairs. The entire building was eco-friendly and open spaced, except for Blake’s office.

Sitting behind the massive, custom-built desk, Blake brooded, his fingers steepled, and his handsome face expressionless. His assistant, Nina, stood before him in a tight pencil skirt, and a blouse struggling to contain the God-given caramel breasts that his face had played in and his cum had glossed many a time. Today, the sexy Puerto Rican would not suffice. 

Nina’s accent purred as she continued to pop the buttons of her white blouse. “Blake, baby… I can put a smile on that face.”

Blake gave a blasé gesture for Nina to get on her knees, wondering when Mila would come to him. It had been two weeks since he’d last seen her, and by God, he'd thought of the best reason to force her to come to him after she’d all but kicked him out with mounds of Tupperware of Chicken Tikka Masala. It had been a very long time since Blake cooked a meal, let alone one he’d learned while touring India. The glimmer in her dark eyes had been hard, yet so fucking hot while she told him to share the meal with his wife. 

This had been the longest that he desired a woman without being able to fulfill the erotic thoughts consuming him. 
Fuck! Why am I even considering pursuing her?
Blake wrestled with the notion of chasing the intelligent, kindhearted, and gorgeous Mila Ali. Warren had actually been one of his good friends, even if they had dissimilar interests.

Nina, his Nina, crawled over, breasts spilling from her bra through the top. Those damn six inch heels that he once let climb all over him had been kicked to the side as she crept around the table. 

Pissed off, Blake unbuttoned his belt. He leaned back in the matching custom-built chair, mind still muddled over Mila as her unknowing substitute unzipped his pants. A sensual bubble of laughter escaped those Chanel red-painted lips as Blake’s cock shot upward, like the Eifel tower in Paris. His erection was that beautiful of a sight to behold. The woman before him had no clue of his motivation. The power he held over her made him hard in a flash. Nina’s greedy lips slowly drew in his long, thick stiffness. She was damn good, with a gorgeous, full mouth. Nina gave ample attention to the thick veins soaring up and down his manhood as her tongue flicked at each one, heightening his pulse with each languorous swipe. The pleasure was so intense that it momentarily ebbed Blake’s unyielding desire for Mila. Nina twirled her tongue around the tip of his dick.
That fucking moan
. It made her tonsils vibrate against his rod. Any thoughts he had were dashed when a primitive sigh swept over Blake as he dominated the chair.

“Does this feel good?” Nina kissed the tip of his manhood.

Blake stopped, gripping the armrest and shoving a hand into her silky hair. Once he maintained a decent grasp on her tresses, he gave her a thrust. No more words. All she was good for was swallowing his creamy cascade. The movement caused his cock to hit the back of her throat, eliciting an ecstatic moan from her. Wet, sweet lips glazed his dick, giving it a glossy off-white sheen.

There it was. At last. Blake exploded, and Nina took it all.

Nina guzzled down his seed to the very last drop. With his head back, Blake waited for her to lick up the last bit when the frosted double doors burst open. Nina froze beneath the desk. Though she hadn't completed the transaction, not in the fullest sense of their regimen, a smile illuminated Blake’s face. He gave a gentle nudge, and Nina got down into place.

There stood Mila in a canary yellow, cable knit dress which stopped mid-thigh, complete with knee high boots. And damn it, she wore no make-up. So fucking glorious. He marveled at the sneer stretching across her lips. “How dare you!”

“Miss Ali, if you’d please…” Blake’s assistant Barbara said from behind her as she and Todd scurried to catch up.

Todd’s eyebrows furrowed with worry. “Mila, what's wrong?”

“Uh uhn, Todd. I don’t need a peacekeeper,” Mila cut in. Blake stared listlessly at one of his most valuable employees.

Another woman stood behind Todd as they all entered the room. Mila said a few choice words to her, as well. Blake remembered her as the woman who'd brazenly flirted with him at the funeral. She had to be Todd’s girlfriend. Either way, Blake was glad that his game plan got a rise out of Mila. Blake refocused as Mila cussed at him for paying her mortgage. All the while, Nina kept post underneath the desk.

“Mila and I were out for lunch. One of the diners across from us recognized Mila from a magazine cover,” explained the redhead.

“What magazine? What are you talking about?” Blake feigned innocence. His strategy worked. He’d paid Mila’s overdue mortgage, and had one of his assistants leak it to the press. With money being tossed around, the tabloids came to their own conclusions.

“
Us
!” Mila shouted. “Can everyone just leave?” 

“Yes, everyone, please.” Blake hid the smile on his face. Mila wanted to be alone with him.

Todd placed his hands in his khakis, he rubbed his thumb over the stubble on his chin then did an about face. 

“Clarissa...” Mila addressed the redhead, who seemed more like a Chihuahua, wanting to protect Mila. He concluded that the two were good friends if they were out at lunch when one of Mila’s coworkers accused him and Mila of having an illicit affair. Damn, the tabloids were usually correct. This was the first time they’d acted prematurely, but Blake had given them good reason.

Mila tossed the magazine on his table. It read:
Billionaire Pays Mistress’s Back Mortgage.
The headline was among top billing on the front page of People magazine; however, once they actually
did
commence their fling, any candid photos of them together would garner a solo cover.

Chapter 6

Mila Ali

AFTER CLARISSA LEFT
, Mila turned back to her enemy. Head cocked, she waited for an apology. How dare he pay her mortgage? Warren had put down almost fifty percent of the Laguna Niguel beachfront property. They had already paid for the wedding venue, amongst other lavish details. Then Mrs. Jameson wanted the most expensive funeral, down to the minuscule detail.

Mila would never be able to pay the mortgage on her own. The Mila fresh out of college went straight to Hewitt Corporation. Instead of returning home and becoming the shadow of one of the most sought-after suitors in Ethiopia, Mila seized the golden opportunity. She helped Hewitt bulldoze small businesses. By the time she made associate she’d become exhausted, realizing she’d forgotten about her long-ago dream to open a resource center. Now she worked at Versa Home Improvements, a luxurious remolding company. As a sales manager, Mila didn’t make a fraction of what she once did. And the only thing she had from Warren—
their
home—was in jeopardy.

Both of their names had been on the deed, and now she had acquired the debt. 

“They've left at your request, Miss Ali. What can I do for you?”

“Don't insult my intelligence, Baldwin. I want to speak with you in private.”

Blake mumbled something under his breath; his chiseled face still held a glint of cockiness.

She watched the “bedhead” of an alluring Latina rise from between Blake’s knees. The woman kept her back to Mila while buttoning her shirt. Chin up, Mila tried to keep her judgmental eyes from the homewrecker as the girl began the walk of shame. With a deep sigh, Mila closed the double doors behind her. When she turned around, Blake stood. 

He undid the buttons of his linen shirt, and her eyes zeroed in on the perfect V as his undone pants fell. His waistline was stacked with muscle. The muscles in his arms chiseled like a Demi god. Then Mila’s eyes landed on his shirt as it fell to the floor. Rationality returned. 

“Wh... What are you doing?”

“Taking a shower, Miss Ali. Join me, if you’d like. Didn’t you come to chew me out?” He shoved down his pants as if this were an Armani boxer brief commercial. He shoved off his underwear. “By all means, chew me the fuck out.” 

Her eyes popped. Flaccid. But so huge. Saliva liquefied her mouth. As he moved around the desk, Mila glared at a crescent-shaped, tanned ass. No boxer/brief lines. The sun adorned every inch of Blake’s body.

“Ms. Ali, keep staring and I'll have to insist you join me.”

She had no words. This type of shit did
not
happen in real life. Men didn’t disrobe at work. He was playing a game of entrapment, as if she couldn’t deny him.
Well, I’m a different breed than he’s used to; I am Mila Ali. I’ve seen horrible inequality that many can’t even imagine, even after my family moved to Ethiopia. With my MBA, I’ve helped fatten the pockets of rich men.
Mila placed her hands on her hips, knowing she had never been the type to lose herself over a man. Heck, she didn’t even do it for the money when working for Hewitt. Becoming an associate was supposed to prove to the most important man in her world—her father—that she’d made it.

She took a deep breath, knowing that no matter how drop dead gorgeous Blake was, he had no hold on her. Fifteen was the last age where good looks blinded her.

Blake wants to play games?

Her heels resounded off the walls of Blake’s office as she stepped toward what was presumably a bathroom. The entire area seemed to have been transported from one of those Million Dollar Listing San Francisco shows and placed in his office. Just the fixtures were even more expensive than that of all the bathroom displays at her job. Gray tile with mosaic glass splashes gave the room a sanctuary-like allure. Her eyes narrowed as he stepped into the shower that could hold half the sluts running around the office at any given time. There were rain sprouts over a section of shower that had seating for those lazy days, and waterfall style sprouts for those days when a refreshing pour was needed.

“Mila...” He twined her name, making it brand new after all the years of hearing it. Her eyes landed on him, trickling down his gloriously taut body as water caressed every inch of his muscles. “I'll take you complacent or aggressive.” He grabbed a bottle of L'Occitane.

“I doubt that, Blake. You won’t be taking me any damn way.”

Translucent white liquid squirted onto his large hand. Cum. She hadn’t had sex in 114 days, not that she was counting. He dropped the bottle onto the shower floor. Again, her eyes zeroed in as rain drenched every inch of his physique. Eyes connected with Mila’s he rubbed the soap onto chiseled pectorals. Her pussy walls quivered. But she was stronger, so much stronger than the juices drenching her thong.

Mila stood, legs planted wide. Since there was no glass shower shield between them, nothing obscured their connection. 

“My beautiful Mila—”

“
My
?” The man was infuriating. “I don’t think so.”

Though the constant drumming of the shower sounded, Blake’s soothing low tone still compelled her. “That’s exactly where you've gone wrong. Thinking. You’re over thinking this.” He let his hand travel down to his cock. Water was all around. In the shower, in her mouth, traveling down her throat, and most certainly pooling down below. Standing at the entrance of the shower, Mila wanted to lose herself in the moment. A craving took over as his dick, so magical and inviting, refused to stop growing. “
Desires
, now desires are primitive. No thought necessary. You want something. Go for it.” He still stroked the strength of his cock.

With every caress from his large hand, her labia quivered. Coupled with the sound of his voice, an aged wine, bold, yet smooth, Mila was at a lost. “…Are you listening to me, Mila. You want something. You go after it.”

Mila licked her lips. Thick and long, he had more erection than any woman should ever need. It stood to attention, saluting her. Then she remembered the last words he said. And now, they were at the part where the billionaire would lose his own childish game.

“Hmmm. Go after what I want you say?” She stepped closer, stopping just before the spray of water sprinkled on the tips of her stilettos.

He nodded.

“And you want me.”

Blake grinned. His eyes hard, as if just the mere glance could singe the clothing right off of her. “Yeah. But, I’d rather you come to me, Mila. I want you to cum so fucking hard—“

“Stop.” The gasp flew from her parted lips, both sets of lips swollen, aching with desire. But Mila gathered her dignity.  “Now get this through your head, Mr. Baldwin.”

He moved so close that her minty breath caught. The steam from his body enveloped her. Blake reached just past Mila and grabbed a plush navy blue towel from the counter.

“Baldwin, you’ll have your 14 thousand dollars back within a week, and I won't be seeing you ever again. There will be no paying my mortgage or any other foolishness. Do I make myself clear?” As strength lifted her shoulders, and her spine stood rigid, Mila wondered where she’d get the money. With Warren’s last paycheck, Mila had held the funeral, and she’d had to pay out of pocket for a few odds and ends such as floral arrangements to cover such a large church.

She’d paid half of a $4250 mortgage payment, but the bank returned it due to their inability to take partial payments. That was three months ago. They’d sent a pre-foreclosure letter when she became two months behind. The life insurance agent had yet to provide a date to pay out Warren’s policy. None of the wedding venues cared of such tragedies, and Warren’s mother wanted the funeral to rival a wedding she never got for her son.

“$14,000, what are you talking about?” He arched an eyebrow as the plush towel polished off taut muscles.

“I see that you like to fuck with people.”

“Billionaires’ trait perhaps.” He shrugged, grabbing the L'Ocittane lotion. The psychotic man meant for her to go crazy as he rubbed a dime size worth on just one muscle. He had to be at least 36. Why act like such a prick?

“Well, you may be right, then.” She nodded. “Billionaire’s trait. So you micromanage too?”

He raised an eyebrow, then asked for her to lotion his back.

“Okay.” She took the bottle with a coy smile and squirted cold lotion on his back. She dropped the bottle and stalked out of the bathroom. That asshole thought she would drop her panties?