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To make up for the botched underwear shoot, I surprised Mila and Lauren with a trip to Paris for Couture Week. Lauren almost got on her knees to kiss my feet while Mila stared at me for five minutes with shining eyes. She also let me pull her hair and call her my sweet, slutty whore that evening.
“Couture,” she explained to me, “means no machine has ever touched the cloth. Everything is hand sewn, even the finishing of the seams.”
That seemed not very sturdy, but the reverence in Mila’s voice had me keeping my thoughts to myself. I plan on buying a boatload of stuff at the fashion shows because if just thinking about couture goods renders Mila in this state, I can only imagine how ecstatic she’ll be when she’s wearing them. And when I tear the clothes off her, I can blame it on poor workmanship.
Mila and Lauren wind down their tour and return to the lounge with Mila joining me on the sofa.
I set aside my paperwork and hand the remote to her. “Care to watch a movie?”
“You’re letting Mila choose?” Lauren questions. “My brother is twenty-nine and still won’t let me handle the remote when we’re together. He doesn't trust my choices.”
“Mila has exquisite taste,” I reply. “She’s chosen me, hasn’t she?”
Beside me, Mila giggles while Lauren rolls her eyes.
“How about Pride and Prejudice?”
I feel like this is a test. “The one with Kiera Knightly or Jennifer Ehle?”
“Wow, a connoisseur of Austen movies? You are a real find,” Mila says.
I keep the information that I’ve met both women to myself. I was at a dinner with the two at a charity function in Hyde Park. The table got into a spirited discussion over which portrayed the better Bennett. Both actresses proclaimed the other the greatest of all time, which put an end to the argument. I, however, have watched neither.
“Let’s watch Emma instead,” suggests Lauren. “I love Anna Taylor Joy in that.”
“Oh, me too.”
The two turn to me for input. I pick up my glass of whisky and tell them to pick whichever they like. “I haven’t seen that one.”
While Mila pulls up Emma on the big screen, the flight attendants come in to adjust the tables and set out the tablecloth. As Emma flits from fields to parties and back again, we dine on steak and scallops with finely sliced potatoes au gratin, and molten lava chocolate cake and vanilla bean ice cream for dessert. Ordinarily, wine is served with every course, but since I’m fairly sure that Mila is pregnant, I told the staff beforehand to offer only nonalcoholic drinks. Neither woman appears to notice.
By the time the last crumb has been eaten, Emma has transformed into a chess master. Lauren stretches out along one sofa and drifts off while Mila falls asleep on my shoulder.
I instruct the flight attendants to help Lauren into one of the beds while I carry Mila off to the main stateroom.
“Jay?” she murmurs.
“No one else tucking you in anymore but me,” I say with a little more bite than necessary, but the idea of anyone but me seeing her sleepy and defenseless hits a bad green button inside of my head.
A smile curves her lips upward. “Lauren has tucked me in before.”
“Not even her.” It sounds unreasonable out loud but makes perfect sense to me. Mila can’t rely on anyone else. If she needs anything, I’m going to be the one to give it to her, whether it’s diamonds for her wrist or a blanket for her bed.
“You’re jealous.”
“Damn right.” I pull the covers up to her chin.
“I like it.” Her eyes flutter halfway open. “I think it’s sexy.”
“Yeah?” I draw the covers down to her tits. Her pink nipples poke against the fine gauge of her sweater. I reach down and pinch one pert protrusion and roll it between my fingers. “What else do you find sexy?”
“Mmmm, you, definitely you.” Her finger strokes the ridge of my veins, and there’s something inexplicably erotic about her touching my hand while I’m fondling her tits.
I capture her fingers in mine and draw down the comforter even farther until the silk of her skirt appears. I slide our intertwined fingers between her legs. “I find you very sexy, too. Open your legs, love. Feel how wet you are already. Do you want me to eat your little pussy or do you want it full of cock?”
“Why not both?”
“Have you been good?”
“Very, very good,” she purrs.
I tear off my clothes and go down on her, sucking and licking and tonguing until she’s screaming into a pillow. I replace that pillow with my mouth and ram into her. I fuck her hard and come in long, creamy jets inside her hot channel. There’s no way I’d ever put a condom on. If she’s not pregnant, I plan to fill her sex with sperm until she is.
