More Than Her

“Too deep, babe. Please.” she begs, standing on her toes trying to alleviate some of the pressure. Smack. Smack. I hit her ass over and over, loving the red handprints.

“I will tell you when it is too deep and unfortunately for you, it is not fucking deep enough.'' I barely get the words out before my eyes roll to the back of my head. Over and over I slam inside of her, every inch of me embedded inside of her. I can feel every time her womb welcomes me home, begging me to make her mother. Make her my wife. Make us the family we both want.

“Fuck.”

“Dun...” she whines and shakes, her body on overload from the unreleased orgasm she has been craving since I started this.

“I know baby. I feel it too. It’s ok...let go.” I whisper in her ear as I pinch her cit.

“Yesssss…” she screams as she finally lets go. Her pussy strangles the shit out of my cock, squeezing the liquid life from him, sending it straight into her womb where our family will be made.

“Son of a bitch.” is the last thing I say before everything goes black and we both collapse onto the floor. Laying against the dresser, bodies sweaty and stuck together, still connected where it matters most, we whisper our love for one another, kissing softly, both out of breath and exhausted but filled with love, hope and lust. Even after only being together two weeks, I know she is my reason for being.

Hell. this is the hundredth fucking time I have woken up beating my shit to death after being stuck in a memory I can’t help but relive. “Shit.” I growl as my strokes become faster and faster, the release coming superficial and unsatisfying but it gets through day by day...barely. I had a handle on it, but now, I can't even control the volcano. It isn’t until my legs are sticky with remnants of my dream that I realize what woke me. Looking at the clock, I am shocked to see it is almost noon. I can’t tell you the last time I slept well into the afternoon. God damn phone. “Hello.” my voice gruff and annoyed.

“Dunbar, I got it.” Phillipa's voice shocks me for a moment. “Did you hear me? She finally gave me a state. I couldn’t get her to give me anything else, but at least it is a start. She is in Tennessee.”

“You are fucking amazing. Text me the information. I need to pack.” hanging up, I call my P.I. and forward him the information from the text and let him know if he doesn’t have an exact location for her by the time I land he is fucking fired. The entire plane ride, all I can do is think of what I am going to say. My mind wanders back and forth, going over every word, phrase, comment said over the past few months. The thing that keeps sticking out in my mind is how every time Phillipa says something about Lani, I feel as if there is something she is keeping from me. Her eyes get this guilty, sad far off gaze and my stomach reacts the same every time. My instincts tell me it is not as bad as I am imagining. However, the man in me can’t help but be on alert for the possibility of some unassuming dead motherfucker sniffing around my woman. I don’t give a shit how mad she is, she has belonged to me from the moment my hand touched hers. If she doesn't want to be responsible for me spending the rest of our lives in prison, she sure as shit better not be even entertaining the idea of anyone else. Well shit. I can feel the heat rise in my head. Looks like I need to have my attorney ready with bail money.Chapter EightDun“Mr. Louis, Sir. I have her narrowed down to the city of Bartlett. There has been no movement passed that point. It seems however, her job is still being kept in the area of cash as not to leave a trail.” Paz answers as he meets me in the terminal.

“She is in so much fucking trouble.” I grunt wiping my hands down my face. He hands me the file containing everything he has and boards his flight which is set to leave now. Walking through the airport toward the conveyor to grab my luggage, I call my assistant.

“Mr. Louis.”

“Find me an Embassy somewhere in this town and book it, starting today with an open-ended date.” I am not leaving here until I find her. “Text me the check in information.”

“Yes sir.” Looking around, I note how busy Memphis International Airport is. I can’t remember the last time I was here. The only thing I remember about the trip is that my grandparents and I stayed in an Embassy Suites hotel somewhere in the middle of the city when we came for a family reunion once and I had so much fun. I always loved being with them and every chance I got, I wanted to go where they went. As it turned out, that was the last time I would ever go anywhere with them ever again. My grandfather had a heart attack a month later and not able to live without her Henry, my grandmother left us just days later. So, whenever I have to make a trip here, I always stay in an Embassy. Hearing my phone beep, I see she found one not far from the airport and all of the check-in information is included.