MILA
No other wedding before or after could outshine Blake and Mila’s big day. The billionaire spoiled his beautiful, sweet wife to no end, rivaling any woman’s daydreams of the perfect husband.
They were a few nights into their three-week private cruise on their yacht with Malaysia and the Maldives as a few other destinations on their way home. Aside from the Captain saying “hello” on occasion and a very discreet maid, it was just the two of them.
Mila bit her bottom lip and pressed a hand against Blake.
“No pouting,” he said, tweaking her nipple.
She slapped away his hand, but he caught her bottom lip between his teeth and bit down hard. Hard enough to send a moan ribboning out of her mouth and pain searing down her body until it exploded with joy between her thighs.
“So far, you’ve fed me like a fatted turkey in October with thoughts of November. You’ve treated me well my husband, but I need clothes. I need my clothes, Blake.” Mila implored for the hundredth time. Each time before, her argument ended with a few slaps against her ass.
His cock was growing as he softly flicked his tongue over her bottom lip. “You don’t need clothing or luggage. I’ll keep you warm, and you’ve got that pregnancy stamina. I just endeavor to keep up with you.”
“Oh, buddy. I knew I was in for it when I married you. The insanity.” Mila giggled now kissing him back. It was true her sex drive was bonkers, but he had to be crazier. “The insanity is real. You want me to go outside,” she pointed to the sliding glass door, “into a crisp, cold night.”
He shrugged. “In order for me to screw you under the stars. Yes. It was inevitable. I’ll keep you warm. You have my child in your belly.”
She nodded. He did more than keep her warm. “Okay. then I want my fuzzy socks.”
“Alright, your favorite fuzzy socks.” He rose from the bed, taking her hand and pulling her up with him. He placed a hand on her head. “You stay here.”
“Oh, lord. You gave me a tiara, but literally, there is an imaginary crown on your head. Bossing me around? I want to know where you’ve hidden my luggage.”
Blake had declared they weren’t putting on clothing until they docked. He had been sneaky enough to have their luxurious bathroom fully stocked with her favorite beauty care regime. But he’d sworn that he’d forgotten everything but her fuzzy socks.
“Alright, follow me,” he said, leading the way out of their room and down the hall. They headed to the dining area, and Mila’s eyebrows furrowed. They’d had dinner in here once, though, much of the time they were bound to the bedroom—or rather she was bound to the bed.
Behind the wet bar, Blake picked up her canvas bag. “You don’t normally drink, and now, you can’t drink. It was the perfect place.”
She smirked at his response. Mila began to open the bag as he said, “I’m going to make you some tea. Anything else you’d like before we fuck underneath the stars?”
“Nope.” She opened the inner compartment and dug around. Not feeling the plush socks, she then unzipped the outer compartment. Along with her bottles of vitamins and minerals, she felt a piece of paper and pulled it out.
Mila’s eyebrows furrowed. In the center of the folded piece of paper was a sticky note with the symbol from the hotel she just spent the last week at for her wedding. The writing on it was Yasmin’s.
“Lido forced me to give this to you the night of your fight. Open when ready (or never)—Yas.”
Mila huffed. She and Blake had a policy—no cellphones on the honeymoon—so she couldn’t call Yasmin and argue with her about pulling this stunt.
Besides, another honeymoon rule was no arguing. The playful banter she had with Blake didn’t count. It was always caused by his selfish love for her anyway. Hence, the reason she was naked for the last seventy-two hours with literally cold toes.
She considered ripping to shreds whatever Lido had written her and calling it a day. Yasmin had said she was strong for even enduring Lido’s company. Mila always saw herself as weak. What good did keeping the peace lead to? she asked herself. Me snapping like those people on the ID Channel documentaries.
Mila sniggered to herself, determining not to be angry. What did she have to lose? If Lido pissed her off, she’d already won. She could use those emotions for role-playing with Blake and fuck his brains out under the stars.
With no expectations, Mila opened the note. It was written in her native tongue. She read the words verbatim:
“My beautiful little sister, I’m used to making everything about me when in reality this is the time every single detail should be about you. But really, I need to explain myself. Today, I literally realized how much I hate myself and just who I truly am. Mila, I’ve been seen by top shrinks, and they all diagnosed me with histrionic personality disorder. I never gave a damn about that. Never thought to care about how I hurt people until what I just made you do. You of all people. You are good. I’m going to stop bothering you for a while, but please don’t stop being the beautiful, strong—”
Mila paused to snort. She would be embarrassed about her actions for a long time coming. Just not on her honeymoon.
“—I think it happened the day we fled from home. The stuff we saw. You didn’t let it change you. I was the queen at not giving a fuck when really, I just hate myself. Alright, I’ll leave you alone for now. Have a blessed wedding, and I hope to be a good person when you have children. I always told myself I’d make a good auntie. But Yas didn’t have any daughters. (Wink) Love L.”
Mila scrunched the paper up and tossed it into the wastebasket behind the bar. Oddly, she felt nothing, aside from a deep desire to love the man who had loved her wholeheartedly. She went in search of Blake in the bedroom, though he wasn’t there. She started outside into the freezing cold night, knowing he’d keep her warm.
Colossians 3: 14: And above all these put on love,
which binds everything together in
perfect harmony.