Page 52 of Memphis

“A sniper? Are you fucking serious?”

“I am. I’m very serious, son. I’ll have her entire family eliminated.”

At that moment, any love I held for my mother completely dissipated.

Then…

I hadn’t seenhim all day and couldn’t wait to be in his arms again. I knew he planned to meet with his mother. I also knew he was furious with her. I hoped their conversation wasn’t tooexplosive, but I was sure of one thing: he wasn’t letting me go for anyone. He loved me. That was doubtless.

I’d actually fallen asleep on my sofa when he finally arrived. He gently shook me awake and sat down beside me before pulling me into his arms. I damn near purred as I leaned into him, reaching up to kiss his neck. Before I could blink, we were both naked and he was between my legs, his fingers strumming my clit as he slid in and out of me. The living room was dark, so I couldn’t see his face, but I could feel him. I could feel his ragged breaths against my lips as he lowered his head to kiss me. I could feel his dick stretching me, his generous girth repeatedly grazing my spot, his fingers rubbing my sensitive bud. My nose was full of the aroma of our joined bodies, and my ears rang from my own shrieks and moans. In no time, I felt that familiar orgasmic hysteria, the frenetic energy that gave me the most intense buzz, and in the aftermath, all my fuzzy brain could conjure was a singular thought:I will never love another man the way I love Bo Pierce.

His climax seemed to damn near incapacitate him as he grunted and whimpered before collapsing to the floor beside the couch. On automatic, I joined him, straddling him while kissing his lips and neck and chest.

I was sliding down to clean up the mess my pussy had made of his dick—with my mouth—when he said, “I got married today.”

I stopped, face to face with his limp shaft, my brows furrowed. “What?” Surely, I was hearing things.

“I got married today…to Layla Morton.”

I sat on my knees between his legs, my mind struggling to process his words.

“My pop made a deal with hers. It was part of this street war truce from back in the day when they were in Chicago. Laythen Morton only has one child, a daughter. My pop promised one ofhis sons would marry her and take care of her. He chose me,” he continued.

I moved backward, putting space between us.

“I never intended to marry her. I don’t have nothing against her, but if I was gonna get married, I planned to choose my own wife. Then you came along and robbed me of my heart and…I didn’t wanna do it. Ihadto.”

Now I was on my feet, my hands shaking. “You…had to?”

“Yeah, my mom ain’t gonna let up, and as pissed as I am about it, I can’t exactly fuck my mom up. You know? So, I did it, but nothing has to change between us. Plus, I ain’t gotta stay married forever. Give me a little time. Just hold on.”

“Nothing has to ch—get up.”

“Yeah, we can still be us. I still love y?—”

“Nigga, get the fuck UP! Get your ass up and get out of here! Now!”

I couldn’t see him, but I knew when he got to his feet because almost instantly, I could feel his body heat near mine. When his hand met my arm, I slapped it away.

“Don’t touch me! Don’t you ever touch me again. You just forfeited that privilege.”

“King—”

“And you had the nerve to fuck me on your wedding night?!”

“Wasn’t a wedding. Not really. We got married in my mother’s living room.”

My response to that bit of information was to slap the shit out of him. “Leave! I don’t ever want to see you again!”

“But you work for me.”

“I work for The Agency. I was never supposed to meet you in the first place. Give me another point of contact, or I’ll quit.”

“Baby—”

“I mean it!”

His response was to silently get dressed and leave, but not before offering me a somber, “I really do love you.”

---