Chapter 16
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
MALIK
Indigo and I haven’t spent a single night apart since the carnival. During the day, we do our own thing—work, errands, whatever—but come evening, we’re together. Always. One of us ends up at the other’s place, and we fall into the same pattern: eat, talk, and then ravage each other like it’s the end of the world.
Honestly, I didn’t even know the human male body had that much cum inside of it. I feel like a walking science experiment. She’s insatiable. She sucks me off every night and then insists that I bury my cock in her. And the craziest part? I don’t even mind. If anything, I’m addicted. If it wasn’t completely insane, I’d stop by a jewelry store after work one day and put a ring on it. I won’t, but I’m not letting her go, either. That much I’m sure of.
Today, we both have the day off, so I asked her to come to Marie’s property. She hasn’t seen it yet—this huge part of my life that’s still mine alone. It feels like a big step, letting her into this. Plus, I want her to meet Marie. She’s been like family to me, and it’s important that they get along.
“Don’t forget to bundle up, baby,” I call down the hallway. “It’s freezing out there. No windbreak until we hit the woods.” I finish lacing my boots up on the couch, glancing toward the bedroom.
“Almost ready,” she sings back, her voice light and playful.
I hear her before I see her—the soft shuffle of boots against hardwood—and then she steps into view. My lungs stall. She’s stunning. Always is, but today? She’s something else.
“I finally have a reason to wear this little number,” she says, spinning on her heel like she’s on a runway. “Got it at an estate sale last year. It’s been collecting dust.”
“You’re beautiful,” I manage.
“Why, thank you, kind sir,” she teases, curtsying.
She’s dressed in a vintage navy-blue snowsuit, coral flowers scattered across the fabric like a painting. A matching belt cinches her waist, and her dark hair spills from under a coral beanie. She looks like a walking wet dream straight from a ski magazine circa 1970. I want to kiss her senseless, but I settle for holding out my hand instead.
“Come on, pretty girl. Let’s go,” I say, my voice rougher than I intend. She takes my hand, her smile lighting up the room, and together we head to my truck.
As we drive, the radio fills the cab, Chappell Roan’s Hot to Go coming through the speakers. Indigo sings along, her voice carefree, until the chorus hits and she scream-sings, laughing at her own antics. She’s pure chaos, and it’s magnetic.
I shake my head, grinning as I steal glances at her. She’s leaning into the music, dancing in her seat like it’s a private concert.
We pull into Marie’s driveway—the house nestled in the quiet solitude of open fields and tree lines.
“Her house is so peaceful,” Indigo says, her voice quieter now. “I wish I lived this far from people. It must feel like another world out here.”
“It does,” I agree. “She doesn’t have to answer to anyone. No rules, no neighbors, no noise. Just... peace. I’m jealous every time I visit.”
I park near the garage, and we step out into the crisp air. The quiet wraps around us, broken only by the crunch of gravel underfoot. I ring the bell, and Marie opens the door within seconds, her face breaking into a smile.
“Malik! So good to see you,” she says, pulling me into one of her signature hugs.
“You too, Marie,” I reply, squeezing her back. “I wanted you to meet someone.”
Her eyes shift to Indigo, and her smile widens. “This must be the girl you’ve been telling me about. You’re right—she’s gorgeous.”
“Thank you,” Indigo says, dipping into a playful curtsy. “Malik’s told me so much about you. I’m glad we finally get to meet.”
Marie steps forward, pulling Indigo into a hug without hesitation. “I like her already,” she says, winking at me over Indigo’s shoulder.
“I knew you would,” I reply, feeling a strange warmth spread through me.
Marie steps back, her gaze soft. “Well, I can’t visit today. I gotta feed my Benny or he gets pissy, and I’m watching a horse auction on the computer. But don’t be a stranger, okay? Come by soon, and we’ll have lunch.”
“Yes, ma’am,” I say.
Marie chuckles. “You take care of this one, Indigo. He’s a good one.”
“I’ll do my best,” Indigo says, her tone playful but sincere.
As we walk back to the truck, Indigo turns to me. “Who’s Benny? And why does he demand lunch like royalty?”
I can’t help but laugh. “Benny’s her dog. A little Jack Russell. Yappy, spoiled, and probably the most pampered creature alive. Marie lives for that dog.”
“Oh,” she says, laughing along. “Well, in that case, yes. Benny absolutely deserves to have lunch on time.”
We drive further down the property, past a patch of grazing cows and the small creek that winds through the land. The air grows colder as we near the denser part of the woods. The trees loom tall, their bare branches twisting like skeletal fingers against the gray sky. This place has always felt sacred to me—wild and untouched—but today, with Indigo beside me, it feels different. Like it’s no longer mine alone.
I pull the truck to the edge of the woods, the tires crunching over dried leaves and dead grass before I stop, sliding the gearshift into park. Indigo hops out, her boots hitting the ground with a satisfying thud. She glances around, eyes wide, her gaze a little too sharp, a little too intense, like she’s sizing everything up, as usual.
“There’s a path just over there,” I say, nodding toward the narrow trail that disappears into the trees. “Come on.”
I take her hand, leading her into the woods. The path is tight, winding between tall oaks and maples. The leaves crackle underfoot, the only sound besides the occasional chirp of a bird. Indigo stays close, her grip firm in mine, her eyes darting around—almost like she’s searching for something.
“This place is perfect,” she murmurs, her voice a little too quiet, like she’s tasting the words. “Feels... untouched.”
“That’s the idea,” I say, glancing back at her. “Not many people come out here. It’s quiet. Just the way I like it.”
We keep walking, and the path opens up into a small clearing. I stop and point toward one of my tree stands perched high in an oak. “That’s one of my stands. Got a big buck from there a couple of years ago. Biggest one I’ve ever taken. Twelve points. Took me all afternoon to drag it out of here.”
Her lips twitch into a smile. “I’d ask for proof, but I’m guessing you’ve got pictures.”
“Damn right, I do.” I grin.
She chuckles softly, and we keep moving. The path winds again, leading us deeper into the woods until we reach an area where the trees are a bit more spread out. There, half-hidden by vines and moss, is an old treehouse, its wooden planks worn and faded.
“My grandpa and I built this years ago,” I say, stepping toward it and brushing a hand along one of the rungs of the makeshift ladder. “I spent hours up there as a kid, playing, pretending... dreaming up stories. Used it as a stand for a while too, but now... it’s just memories.”
Indigo steps closer, inspecting the treehouse with an almost calculating look in her eyes, like she’s evaluating it, taking it all in. “It’s awesome.”
Her smile is like a promise, but it’s the kind of promise that makes me shiver without quite knowing why. I shake it off, motioning for her to follow me back down the path.
We walk in silence, the cold air filling the space between us, until Indigo suddenly stops and turns to face me, her eyes gleaming with that unsettling intensity.
“I want to hunt,” she declares.
I blink, caught off guard. “You do?”
“Yeah,” she says, voice firm. “I want to try.”
I look at her, a little thrown off by the certainty in her voice. “Baby, I don’t know if you have a mean bone in your body. Not trying to be an ass, but do you really think you could... you know... kill something?”
She tilts her head, staring at me for a long moment, lips parting to lick them slowly, almost methodically. “Yup. I could.”
I frown, feeling a weird chill crawl down my spine. I don’t know why, but the way she says it feels... off. “I don’t know...” I start, my words hesitant.
Indigo doesn’t miss a beat. “Please,” she says, voice soft but insistent, her gaze not leaving mine for a second.
Something flickers in her eyes—an eagerness, maybe even a hunger—but I’m too caught up in her request to process it. I let out a breath, running a hand through my hair. “Fine,” I mutter, still unsure. “But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
She flashes me a grin that’s too wide, too sharp, like a predator finally getting the green light. “You won’t regret this,” she says, practically skipping ahead down the path.
I follow her, shaking my head, but I can’t help the smile tugging at my lips. With Indigo, nothing ever feels predictable—and maybe that’s exactly why I can’t let her go.