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“If he sends you a message that makes you feel frightened, you’re to tell me immediately,” I tell her, and she nods. The thought of having this conversation must have stressed her to no end because afterward, Mila is back to her normal self.
Still, I make a note to myself to have Collins check him out. I want to know if he has a criminal record. It’s better if I know what we’re dealing with here. I don’t tell Mila my plans, not wanting to worry her needlessly. Men like her ex are cowards. Any man who preys on a woman’s weakness is a bully and a coward.
“Can I sleep in your bed tonight?” Mila asks as I switch off the lights and check the doors.
“If you don’t, I’ll be in yours,” I tell her.
I’ve missed her in my bed. We shut the door behind us and immediately turn to each other. I stroke her cheek, and she covers my hand with hers. Why would anyone want to bother a sweet person such as Mila? She bothers nobody and does what she can to make our lives comfortable.
I momentarily imagine Mila as my wife. Coming home to her every day knowing that she belongs to me? I’d move heaven and earth to make her feel special and cared for every day. If she were mine, she would never experience a moment of anxiety about our marriage.
A thought so startling comes to my mind. I had done the very same thing with Brenda. I’d been the perfect husband. I had showered her with love and affection and ensured she lacked for nothing. And still, she left me for another man. That thought is sobering. It leaves me with a bad taste in my mouth. Brenda taught me that first and second impressions can be deceiving.
I compare the two women. The only thing they have in common is the lack of a career. That in itself is a recipe for disaster. I’ve written off ever having a romantic relationship, but who knows how I’ll feel when Isaac is older. One thing I know for sure is that I’d never have a relationship or marry a woman without a career. Not after what Brenda did. For months after she left, I kept thinking I should have pushed her harder to find something she loved doing. Maybe then she wouldn’t have had an affair. I don’t know. It’s stupid to reach that conclusion, especially when I know women like Debbie who are stay-at-home moms and loyal as hell to their husbands and families. Why am I thinking about this now? It’s hardly relevant. I’m not planning to marry Mila.
I drop my hand to her cheek and tilt her chin. I lower my head to kiss her. She tastes of coffee and sweetness. My thoughts fade away as familiar heat gathers in my cock. Our tongues slide over each other. My hands drop to Mila’s shoulders, and hers circle my waist. I kiss her right cheek, her jaw, and then her neck before my mouth returns to her soft lips.
I unbutton her blouse, slide it off her shoulders, and toss it to the ground. My hands cup her tits, and I squeeze gently. She moans softly. I carry her to bed and undress her until she’s completely naked. I undress and straddle her. She draws her tits together.
I tease her nipples with the tip of my cock and then slide it between her tits.
“My cock feels so good between your tits,” I tell her.
I thrust softly, and each time, Mila licks the top of my cock, cleaning off the precum. Her hands grab my ass, and she kneads, setting off all kinds of foreign sensations in me. An urge to kiss her everywhere comes over me, and I slide my cock from her tits.
I start from the bottom, kissing and licking her toes. She giggles softly. I like the sound of her laugh, especially when we’re making love. I take my time exploring every crevice and kissing behind her calves. She’s got perfect legs. Everything about Mila is perfect, and I can’t believe that she’s mine at this moment.
She makes purring noises. I push her legs further apart and get in between them. I kiss her inner thighs, biting her skin in some places. The higher up I go, the louder she moans and writhes.
I lick the sides of her pussy and thighs never quite reaching where she wants. I chuckle softly as she lifts her middle off the bed.
“Fuck, Brad, don’t tease me like that,” she finally says.
I blow air into her pussy, and she makes little gasping noises.
“Is this what you want?” I ask her, knowing very well it’s not. I blow again.
“No.” Her voice is strained.
“What do you want?” I ask her, my own voice intense.
