Wifenapped

"Shell, tell me you know where I am?" Kendra hollered at her publicist in a hushed whisper.

"Girl, I have no idea," Shell Augustine hollered back through the cellphone. "I mean how did he get you by airport security!"

"Fuck, I don't know!" Kendra stated in a panic. "First of all, he ducks and dives me for months and refuses to sign the divorce papers. Then he pulls a stunt like this."

"Well, what do you see around you?" Shell asked, pulling up her laptop.

Kendra looked outside the second floor window of the log cabin and sighed hopelessly. "Trees."

"Trees?!" the publicist shrieked.

"Yeah, trees," Kendra repeated. "I think he's gone all Grisly Adams and shit."

"Oh, honey," Shell sighed, shaking her head. "Did he say what he wanted?"

"No, I woke up and he wasn't here," she explained, glancing about the cozy rustic room. "All I know is he snatched me off the airport curb with the help of his ig'nant friends and then I was sedated for the rest of the ride. Shell, find me!"

"I'm working on it. I'm working on it," the publicist assured, tapping away on the computer.

Suddenly, the bedroom door swung open and a large, handsome man filled the doorway. He wore a long black T-shirt, baggy jeans and some fresh Timberlands. His long dreadlocks hung down his back in wild disarray, making him look like a crazed, brown lion in the bush. Kendra clutched the phone to her chest, staring at him in shock. He looked annoyed and his charcoal eyes were glaring at her cellphone. He had thought he had relieved her of all her gadgets, but no, Kendra was always resourceful. As if reading his mind, Kendra quickly put the phone back to her ear and began running around the room.

"Shell, find me quick, trace this call, call the CIA, the Feds, Superman, anybody!" she demanded trying to scurry around the room, avoiding her husband's attempt to snatch her one link to humanity. But it was no use, the tiny room worked to his advantage and not hers. Within seconds, he had a hold of her and pulled the device from her clutches, throwing it to the ground, smashing it.

Kendra stamped her foot and pumped her fists in defeat. "Damn you, Malcolm! What the fuck do you want from me?"

"For one thing, you shutting the hell up!" he growled. "Where the fuck did you hide this anyway?" he demanded, pointing at the now smashed phone.

"Like I'ma tell you," she pouted crossing her arms and rolling her neck.

He shook his head in frustration while picking up the broken pieces to toss in the trash bin by the desk. He turned toward his wife and just stared at her. She was still the most beautiful thing to him. Her raven locks were neatly cornrowed into a large and immaculate plaited bun. Her milk chocolate skin glistened cleanly against the fading sunlight. And those lips. God, what he wouldn't give just to kiss them right now?

She may have been fine with their separation, but he sure the hell wasn't. His dick certainly hadn't been. He was ashamed to admit the number of times he found himself coming awake with his member in his hand and an extra tip for the hotel maid for her cleaning troubles. And all of the blame lay right at this lil' missus's French pedicured toes. Kendra had done a fine job of building up a wall between them to rival the Grand Canyon. She was all smiles and the epitome of strength with her clients, but deep down she disguised her pain behind cellphones, PDAs, laptops and her stupid publicist, Shell.

Their problems had all started a year and a half ago with the miscarriage of their first child. One she had never come to grips with. Kendra could not stand to fail at anything and when the whole thing went down, she had refused to talk about it or try again. He figured she was angry at him for what had happened. Proof positive in the fact that she had refused to let Malcolm back into their marital bed as well as locked him out of her world completely.  She began build more buffers to keep him away by digging her head deeper into her work as a motivational speaker and celebrity life coach. Something Malcolm had found far too ironic.

On several occasions he had tried to get his wife to sit down and talk about what happened, but she flatly refused. He had hired a therapist, but she'd refused to go. He had tried a couples' retreat with some friends, but she (more like Shell) had arranged so many engagements there had been no room in her schedule. At one point, during a heated argument, Malcolm thought he had gotten her to open up, but she ended up blaming him for "cockblocking" her career advancements and ordered him to leave their Hollywood Hills home, which he did only to give her time to breath. However, enough was enough.

Now, Malcolm was a simple country boy who had made his ends in the rap game. His albums were chart toppers and he had gone on tour with some of the illest rap cats in the game. In fact, he had just completed his last world tour with Kanye West when he had decided he had to handle his wife once and for all. She had had the nerve to serve him with divorce papers while he was overseas, and that had been the last fucking straw. Once Amsterdam had closed, he was on the first Red Eye out to New York, where he knew Kendra was scheduled to make an appearance on The View. He had been able to get ahold of his boyhood friends, Kel and Hopper for the task.

They met him at the airport, where Kendra was scheduled to fly back to LA for another speaking engagement. Once she had stepped out of the cab, wearing a pair of sexy fitted jeans, a designer Donna Karan black button down and Aviator shades, Malcolm and the boys had made quick work of snatching her into his limo. After that, he had paid the driver to take them to a private airfield where a plane had been waiting to fly them to his hometown of Baton Rouge, Louisana. There was a cabin high in the hills away from civilization that his family had owned for generations. It sat on no maps and required a helicopter or horse ride to get to. Over the years, Malcolm had outfitted the shack with a state-of-the-art recording studio, but refused to put in any other modern technologies. This was the perfect place to get his wife back, but he knew he had a battle ahead, if Kendra had anything to say about it.

"Malcolm, if you do not get me on a plane to LA, right now, I am going to sue you for every royalty you got," she snapped.

"Listen here, cher," he threw back in his deep voice dripping with a hint of the Bayou. "I've let you run around with this brat-sized tantrum for far too long. Now, we are going to do this my way. I've taken everything from you that you've used to barricade yourself with. Your phones, your laptops, Shell. They ain't here. We are. And we gonna set this right."

"There is nothing to fix," she argued.

"You may be fine with 'irreconcilable differences', but my grandpappy once told me, ain't nothing that can't be fixed," he stated firmly.

"What are you gonna do? Nature me to death?" she growled.

"If that's what you want to call it," he said. "I prefer making you remember why you love this country boy."

The way his words rolled off his tongue sent a distinct tingle down her spine. Despite her outward protest, Kendra was still keenly attracted to her husband. In those low moments, when the fog of her world would clear, she would experience a flashback of them making love in their pool in the heat of the night. She'd remember how his hands would grip her ass all the while thrusting that... God she had no name for it because it was just that right, filling her up and throwing her over the wave of orgasm after orgasm. The feel of the water embracing them had always added to the sensations of his kisses and touches. She had particularly loved it when he would whisper sweet nothings in his Cajun creole, promising her a tryst in a real lake when they had the chance. Her toe was actually curling from the sheer memory.

Shaking the thought, getting her thoughts centered on her ire, Kendra placed her hands on her hips ready for battle, "Malcolm, I have a career and you can't just steal me off the street like a caveman."

"Best believe I can and did, cher," he contested, daring her to argue. "Don't worry none. I made sure to call all your engagements for the month and canceled them. You can't go preaching to folks when you don't follow your own gospel."

Kendra's mouth hung open in disbelief. How dare he say such a thing? She was a professional and the top in her career. But a little voice in the back of her head actually agreed with him.  She chose to ignore it at the moment.

"Malcolm, last time I checked, kidnapping was a felony - and over state lines, oh boy, are you racking it up," she scoffed crossing her arm. "Of course, it's no more than what I expected from a ig'nant thug like you. Were Hops and Kel between bids when they decided to help you?"

Malcolm strode over to his wife to loom over her. The woman had a mouth that could break the patience of saint. He knew she was just trying to get him angry enough to send her packing. It was a defense mechanism she had crafted and honed since childhood, growing up in the Bronx. Whenever folks tried to get close to her to help her, she lashed out determined to handle it on her own - or not at all. But he knew he had to get around this tactic with one of his own.

He had employed the help of a well-renown therapist who had supplied him with enough strategies to handle an army of crazed Kendras. He could tell she was looking for another whip of words to goad him, but before she could get her mouth open, he claimed her lips, defusing her barrage. His arms snaked around her, keeping her hands planted to his hard chest. Within seconds, he felt her melt into his body.

His tongue softly parted her lips to play with hers, swirling and tickling the edges, goading it to come to him and follow she did. She quickly discovered she had no control over her responses when it came to his kisses. It had been so long since she had indulged in her body's baser needs that everything Malcolm was doing was sparking her desire. His hands laid flat against her back, but didn't stay there for long. Soon, they were sliding down to her rounded bottom, kneading the small mounds like dough, pulling her further against his solid frame. Despite the bagginess of his jeans, she could still feel his erection rub against her core, sparking and teasing her desire.

Malcolm was a giant of a man at 6'7", with the rock hardness of a mountain. However, he was the gentlest lover she had ever known. Part of it, she believed was his full awareness of his height and strength. Once,
she had witnessed Malcolm knock a photographer out cold with one swing, after the man had made a disparaging remark about her, then, in the next minute, he softly took her hand to lead her to the car. He was a man who was in control of his emotions and his temper, except when it came to anyone hurting Kendra. However, Kendra knew why he had been so protective. Malcolm had come from a violent home life, where his druggie, alcoholic father had beaten his sweet mother to death. As a child, he had witnessed how a beast of a man had used his colossal strength to crush a tiny flower of a woman. From that day on, he vowed never to treat a woman so. Living with his maternal grandparents only strengthened that belief and he learned what love was supposed to be like and had brought his knowledge to their marriage.

Malcolm slowly pulled his lips away from Kendra's to playfully nibble her ear. "Tell me you missed me, cher," he pleaded sweetly. "Cause I missed you something bad. I need you."

"We can't do this," Kendra panted a protest weakly.

"Tell me you don't miss my lips here," he implored, tasting her neck. His fingers made quick work of her buttons. "Tell me you don't miss my hands here."

His fingers spread softly over her breasts, kneading them and tweaking the nipples. "Malcolm," she pleaded grudgingly trying to dislodge his hand.

"Tell me you don't touch that muff of yours when you think of me, cher," he persisted, working on her fitted jeans. "Lord knows with every waking minute I can't help myself."

"What are you doing to me?" she demanded. He was keeping her drugged in a haze of desire that kept rational thought from sneaking in.

Soon, Malcolm had pushed Kendra up against the far wall. After shedding her of her skinny jeans and shirt, she stood (barely) in a pair of lacy black panties with matching bra. It had taken all his control not to do the same. His skin was burning to touch hers, but his wife didn't need his selfishness right now. She needed to be loved and he was more than willing to do that. He inhaled her scent, taking in all the essence that made her a woman.

"C'mon, cher, tell me," he pleaded. "Where do you want me to begin?"

"Begin? Begin what?" she demanded breathlessly.

"Where you want my mouth?" he asked, holding her glassy gaze. "Where do you want me to taste you first?"

Kendra was held captive by her desire. His simple question was causing a maelstrom of feminine need to pool in her already drenched panties. What little protest she had faded into the recesses of her brain. She swallowed the huge lump in her throat, thinking of all the places she wanted to feel Malcolm's tongue touch. Fuck, he knew how to play with his tongue like he played with his words. A master craftsman. She inhaled deeply trying to clear her head, but Malcolm quickly ran his tongue across the bridge of her clavicle causing a shiver and a hushed exhale to run through her.

"I'm yours to command, cher," he whispered huskily into her ear, while his fingers pulled down the straps of her bra to reveal her hefty breasts. "Take your frustrations out on me."

Kendra reached out for Malcolm's locks, entwining her long chocolaty fingers through them, then, without a word, she pulled his mouth to her aching nipples. With breathlessly abandon she said, "There."

Malcolm licked his lips before applying his scorching tongue to her waiting aureole. Using the flat of his tongue, he painted and pressed the nub down, then tickled it to life with the faintest flick of the tip. Then he engulfed it with the warmth of his lips as his tongue continued to swirl and twirl. He took loving bites, trying to fit the hole morsel in his mouth. He repeated the motion with the other breast, ringing moans and sighs from his wife's lips. Her hands massaged his broad shoulders in pleasure, goading him on.

With a satisfied and wicked grin, he pulled away from her breasts to ask, "Where else?"

Kendra bit her lip trying to maintain some semblance of control, but was losing horribly. How could he still be able to do this to her? Make her melt and drip with such an aching need. It was primitive, animalistic. This was the very reason she had kicked him out of their bed. That Cajun Voodoo, he knew - so well. He could make her do things, say things, agree to things that no man on earth would dare. He had tried diligently for months to convince her to try again to have another baby, but what he just didn't understand was how painful and terrifying that experience had been for her. This was not a case of falling off the bike, dusting yourself off and trying again. She couldn't admit to him how she had felt like an utter failure, an undeserving person. She was Kendra. The Kendra: Life Coach Extraordinaire. Best-selling author. Super Fucking Woman. Yet, she couldn't do a simple thing as carry a baby. Shit, any hood rat could that! Why not her?

Tears sprang up in her eyes as she looked into the eyes of the man she had fallen helplessly in love with five years ago. He was her friend. He was her sexy lover. Why did she ever push him away? Seeing the tears, Malcolm leaned over and sweetly inhaled them into his mouth. His fingers gently caressed her cheek, acknowledging it was okay for her to let go.

"C'mon, cher, let me in," he begged. "Let me take it away."

Suddenly, Kendra melted back into Malcolm's arms, smashing her lips to his. Without hesitation, she wrapped her long legs about his waist, melding her frame to his. "All over, Malcolm," she said between kisses. "I want you to taste me all over."

"As you wish," he complied bringing her over to the bed, laying her down upon the homemade quilt.

He continued south on his journey, letting his tongue swivel and swerve over her navel. He left butterfly kisses on each hip like a road marker. All the while, his hands caressed and massaged the tension out of her body while also igniting and fanning the flames of her raging desire. Kendra sat up, reached over for the hem of his T-shirt and peeled it from his frame revealing the large tattoo inked on his back. It was an intricate image of a lion and lioness rounding each other in the Savanna bush. He had it inked a year after they got married, but there was something different in the image. At the far end of the image was a tiny cub rolling playfully on its back, not quite far from its parents.

When did he have this done? Peering closer, she saw a date stamped next to the cub. It was the date of her miscarriage. More tears sprang to her eyes, causing her to cover them with her hands to block the image. Malcolm quickly grabbed her wrists, not wanting her to hide her pain. "What is it, Kendra?" he asked.

"When did you do that?" she asked pointing at his back.

"Six months ago," he answered, touching his shoulder. "I had to have a way to deal with the pain, too. Since you had blocked me out, I found nothing to comfort me. I was having sleepless nights and was getting reckless with the drink, but the doc, she said that I needed to find something that would be a nice reminder, rather than a painful one. And so, I saw it fitting to add the cub, because she'd always be with me, even if you weren't. But it doesn't have to be that way."

Kendra wiped her tears, sniffling, "What do you mean?"

"Cher, there's more room on my back to ink a dozen cubs," he said, solemnly. "But I can't do that without you."

"Malcolm, I am so scared," she finally admitted.

"And I'm not?" he whispered. "Kendra, you don't know, but I had to make the call that day. You were in a real bad shape, and were slipping by the second. And I had to choose. You or the baby. Do you know I have to live with that? Do you know I wake up everyday thinking how much you must hate me for it?"

Kendra gasped in surprise at his admission, then guilt flooded her. "Oh, God, Malcolm, I don't hate you," she assured him. "I never realized you thought that."

"That's cause, cher, you shut me out," he reminded her. "You made work your priority and didn't give us time to heal. Then this foolishness with the divorce... what was I supposed to think?"

Kendra hugged herself, protectively, running her actions over in her head. He was right. All her actions had made it seem like she had been angry with him, when in fact she had been angry with herself. "Oh, Malcolm, I was mad at myself, I blamed myself for not watching out for the baby," she admitted. "I thought I had failed you - and her."

Malcolm sighed in relief, but quickly comforted his wife. "You can't fail me, Kendra. You only failed when you didn't try."

"I'm sorry, Malcolm. I'm so sorry," she apologized, sobbing, seeking his arms. After a moment of feeling his comfort surround her, she lifted her gaze and touched his dark chocolate cheek, "And yeah, I did miss my country boy."

Malcolm smiled sensuously at his wife. "Well, come show me how much you missed me, gal."

Kendra snaked her arms around him, drawing him back down on the bed. Just as quickly, she rolled him on his back and began to nuzzle his neck. Her lips kissed a wicked trail across his shoulders, to his chest, where she left a playful love bite just under his peck. Malcolm worked her bun loose to allow her braids to clatter against his rich dark skin. He loved feeling the tips of them graze his hide like a hundred fingertips in one caress. Kendra continued her tour of his body, refamiliarizing herself with his magnificent framework. She loved how his abs left dents in his hipbone, accentuating that special part of him before his jeans even had a chance to come off. Swiftly, Kendra took hold of his belt and began to remove it from its loop. Once that was done, she slowly unzipped them, holding his gaze steady.

The heat and passion that radiated between their eyes could ignite a fire. Kendra licked her lips slowly as she pulled his jeans down his hips and his legs. Her eyes were quickly drawn to his apex where his dick sprang to life as she pulled his black briefs down. Her hands immediately followed as her fingers swiftly wrapped around it possessively. Without the least hesitation, she trailed her tongue along the side of the fleshy tower, before engulfing it with her mouth.

"Oh, cher, careful now," he whispered in a hush, feeling the walls of her mouth constrict against him, sliding him in and out in fluid strokes.

Her fingers cupped his balls, feeling and adding to the heat there. Playfully, she tugged them down as her mouth continued to devour and lavish him with all the passion she was feeling. Malcolm was riding the edges of a climax and was damned to be outdone by this little vixen known as his wife. He quickly took control of the situation and pulled Kendra over his body, only to loose said control when she swiftly mounted him and slid into home on his waiting, throbbing member. In a rhythm all her own, Kendra grinded her pelvis against Malcolm's hips. The motion was a figure 8 that fell up and down on a beat, not to mention her pussy was picking up where her mouth had left off; tightening and devouring his dick like it was her muff's last meal.

Malcolm was hard pressed to keep his control. God, she felt so good and it had been so long. He lifted them up into a sitting position. Never separating their bodies, he was able to turn Kendra around so her back pressed flat against his chest. With nimble fingers that could strum a guitar like a pro, he sought her slick snatch and began to play a melody. His mouth suckled on the column of her long neck causing tingle after tingle to shimmy down her body. She was his slap bass and he was her drum. She kept right on rolling her hips against his dick, feeling it harden even more inside of her with each stroke. The feel of his fingers twirling her clit over and over coupled with his other hand toying with her breasts was sending her over the edge. 

Kendra crawled on all fours and began to push up on Malcolm's dick harder and harder eliciting a series of load groans. His fingers took hold of her waist and began to drive deeper and deeper into her core, seeking higher ground. He wasn't sure how much control he could maintain with the way she was giving as much as she was getting. He took hold of her braids to pull her back against his body. His lips kissed her ears gently, before whispering, "Let me spill up in you, cher."

Mindless in her desire, Kendra could feel her own climax coming and was damned to let it stop because a tiny shred of fear. She turned in his arms, wrapped her legs back around his waist, and drew him back into her center. "Take me, fill me, country boy," she demanded, feeling him harden even more from her words. "Make me a baby."

Malcolm pushed her down on the bed and began to pile drive his member hard into her, ringing a scream of desire and need from her lips. All he could hear was Kendra chant his name like fans at his concerts, which made him smile delighted. Soon, a shiver and tremble ran through his wife's body followed by his own growl of satisfaction that took him over the edge and back. Sighing in exhaustion, he leaned down and kissed Kendra sweetly. She panted breathlessly into his mouth giving and taking his air. They stayed connected for a long while, marinating in their pleasure. However, despite his exhaustion, Malcolm could his body gearing up for round two. He could feel his lil soldier beginning to stiffen up again. causing him to chuckle wickedly, wondering if Kendra would oblige him.

"Malcolm?" Kendra implored at the sound of his chuckle, then gasped when she felt his member fill her up again. Their eyes met, Malcolm's with a playful gleam, Kendra's in amazement.

"Listen, cher, you asked me to make you a baby," he warned her before crashing his lips against hers. "It's gonna be a long month, and a lot of over time."

"Oh, country boy!" she exclaimed, falling in rhythm with her husband. It was going to be a long month indeed.