Chapter 4
Indie
I stared at the empty space where Stone was standing before he walked out.
This nigga really left me here.
I’d stupidly hoped that after one night of fucking, he’d let me go. That he’d get his nut and be done with me. That I could go home, check on Ish, and try to figure out how to move forward from this nightmare.
But nah. That wasn’t happening.
“Fuck,” I muttered, running my hands through my tangled hair. My whole body was sore. My thighs, my back, my pussy. Damn. Stone had fucked me like he was trying to break me, and honestly, he might’ve succeeded.
I needed to get him off me. Out of my head. Because something about that nigga was getting under my skin in a way I didn’t understand, and I didn’t like it.
I threw the sheets off and stood up, my legs shaky. I was still naked, and I could feel the remnants of last night—and this morning—all over my body. The sweat, the smell of sex, and the undeniable ache between my legs.
I needed a shower. Now.
I walked into the bathroom attached to the bedroom and was surprised to find it stocked.
Clean white towels were folded neatly on a shelf, washcloths stacked next to them.
There was body wash on the edge of the tub, and when I opened the medicine cabinet, I found a pack of brand-new toothbrushes still in the packaging and a tube of toothpaste.
At least this nigga had some sense.
I turned on the shower, letting the water heat up while I brushed my teeth. The minty taste helped clear some of the fog from my brain. When the water was hot enough, I stepped under the spray and let it wash over me.
I scrubbed my skin hard, trying to wash Stone off me. His scent, his touch, the memory of his hands gripping my hips, his dick stretching me open. I scrubbed until my skin was red and raw, but it didn’t help.
He was still there. In my head. Under my skin.
“Get it together, Indie,” I muttered to myself.
I finished washing up, rinsed off, and stepped out of the shower. I dried off with one of the towels and wrapped it around my body, then stared at myself in the mirror.
My curly hair was a mess, my eyes were tired, and there were faint bruises on my hips from where Stone had gripped me. I looked like I’d been through some shit.
I left the bathroom and went to find my clothes.
My underwear was in the bedroom, but my jeans and crop top were downstairs where I’d stripped out of them before Stone edged me into oblivion.
I picked them up and got dressed, hating that I had to put back on the same clothes I’d worn to work the night before.
I didn’t have anything else. No change of clothes, no phone, no wallet. Nothing.
Once I was dressed, I left the bedroom and headed downstairs. The house was quiet, almost eerily so. I walked through the hallway and found the kitchen. It was a decent-sized space with granite countertops and stainless steel appliances.
I opened the fridge, hoping to find something to eat. It was empty. Completely fucking empty. I opened the cabinets. Nothing. Not even a box of cereal or a can of soup.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” I said out loud, slamming the cabinet door shut.
This couldn’t be Stone’s actual house. No way. Nobody lived in a house with no food. This had to be some kind of safe house or something. A place he kept for situations like this.
But where the hell was I?
I walked through the rest of the downstairs, taking in the sparsely furnished living room, the empty dining room. Everything looked clean but unlived in. Like a model home that nobody actually stayed in.
My stomach growled, reminding me that I hadn’t eaten since before my shift at the club last night. I was starving, and I was pissed.
I walked to the front door, my hand hovering over the lock. Maybe I could just leave. Maybe Stone was bluffing about keeping me here.
I unlocked the deadbolt and turned the handle.
The second I opened the door, an alarm started blaring. A loud, piercing sound that made me jump back.
A nigga was standing outside on the front lawn, dressed in all-black. He spun around when the alarm went off, his hand moving to his waistband where I could see the outline of a gun.
He started walking toward the door, his face hard.
“Shit!” I slammed the door shut and locked it, my heart pounding.
Stone wasn’t bluffing. He really was keeping me here. There was a guard outside, an alarm system, probably cameras too. I wasn’t going anywhere.
I leaned against the door, trying to catch my breath.
This was bad. Really bad. I was supposed to be at work tonight.
I had bills to pay. Rent, utilities, groceries.
I had Ish to worry about. I couldn’t just stay locked up in this house all day and night waiting around for Stone to come back and fuck me whenever he felt like it.
But what choice did I have?
If I tried to leave and that guard caught me, who knows what would happen. And even if I did somehow make it out, Stone would find me. He knew where I lived. He could get to Ish.
I was trapped.
“Fuck,” I whispered, sliding down to sit on the floor with my back against the door.
I sat there for a few minutes, trying to think of a plan. But there was no plan. Not right now. The only thing I could do was wait until Stone came back and try to negotiate with him. Try to convince him to let me go.
I stood up and walked into the living room. There was a large flatscreen TV mounted on the wall, and I grabbed the remote from the coffee table and turned it on.
At least there was internet. I scrolled through the streaming services and picked something random to watch. I needed some kind of distraction or I was gonna lose my mind.
I didn’t even have my phone. I’d left it in my truck when I pulled up on Ish last night. My truck was probably still sitting where I left it, or maybe someone had already stolen it by now since I’d left the key in the ignition.
Everything was falling apart.
I curled up on the couch and tried to focus on the TV, but my mind kept drifting. To Ish. To Stone. To how the fuck I was gonna get out of this.
Hours passed. The sun moved across the sky, casting long shadows through the windows. I watched episode after episode of some show I wasn’t even paying attention to, my stomach growling louder and louder.
By the time the sun started to set, I was beyond pissed.
And that’s when I heard the sound of a car pulling into the driveway. A door slamming followed by footsteps on the front porch, then the lock turning.
Stone walked through the door, and I was on my feet immediately.
“Where the fuck have you been?” I snapped, storming toward him.
He closed the door behind him and just stood there, staring at me with that same emotionless expression he always had.
That made me even angrier.
“You left me in this fucking house all day with nothing to eat!” I continued, my voice rising.
“I got a job, Stone. I got a life. I got bills to pay. I can’t just sit in this house all day and night waiting around for you to come back and fuck me whenever you feel like it!
I don’t even have any fucking clothes to put on, I feel dirty as hell! ”
He still didn’t say anything. Just stared at me like I was speaking a foreign language, then pulled out his phone and typed something before slipping it back into his pocket.
“Are you gonna say something?” I demanded, stepping closer to him. “Or are you just gonna stand there like a fuckin’ weirdo?”
That’s when he moved.
He crossed the room in two long strides, grabbed me by the throat, and slammed me against the wall so hard it knocked the breath out of me.
His face was inches from mine, his dark eyes boring into me.
“Shut the fuck up,” he said, his voice low and deadly, “before I kill you.”
I glared at him, my hands gripping his wrist, but I didn’t say anything else. I wanted to. I wanted to cuss him out, tell him to go fuck himself, spit in his face. But I couldn’t. Because if he killed me, Ish would have no one. And I needed to get back to my brother.
So I kept my mouth shut.
Stone stared at me for a long moment, his hand still wrapped around my throat, his grip firm but not quite choking me. And then he did something I didn’t expect.
He kissed me.
His lips crashed against mine, hard and demanding, and I froze for a second, shocked. He hadn’t kissed me before. Not once during all the fucking we’d done last night. But now he was kissing me like he was trying to consume me.
I kissed him back. I couldn’t help it. My body responded before my brain could catch up, my lips moving against his, my tongue meeting his in a battle for dominance.
He was an amazing kisser. His lips were soft but firm, his tongue skilled, licking and sucking and biting at my bottom lip in a way that made my knees weak.
He pulled back, staring into my eyes with that same intense look that made me think he was a fucking crazy person.
“Take your clothes off,” he said.
I didn’t move fast enough, so he did it for me.
He stripped me roughly, yanking my crop top over my head, unbuttoning my jeans and pulling them down along with my panties. He didn’t bother with my bra. He just pulled it down, freeing my breasts.
Then he grabbed my arm and pulled me toward the stairs.
He led me to the bedroom and pushed me inside. I watched as he started undressing, pulling off his shirt to reveal that tattooed, muscular chest, then unbuckling his belt and stepping out of his jeans.
His dick was already hard, thick and long, and I felt that familiar ache between my legs.
He grabbed a condom from the nightstand and rolled it on, then walked over to me.
He gripped my face in his hand, his fingers digging into my cheeks, and kissed me again. This time it was slower, deeper, his tongue exploring my mouth like he was memorizing the taste of me.
Then he grabbed my ass with both hands and lifted me up.
I wrapped my legs around his waist instinctively, and he positioned me over his dick. I felt the head pressing against my entrance, and then he was lowering me down onto him.
I gasped as he filled me, stretching me open. My arms wrapped around his neck, holding on for dear life as he started fucking me standing up.
His lips moved from my mouth to my jaw, then down to my throat, kissing and licking and biting. His hands gripped my ass, controlling my movements, bouncing me up and down on his dick.
“Oh God,” I moaned, my head falling back.
He walked us over to the bed and laid down on his back, pulling me with him. But instead of making me ride him, he positioned me so my back was on his chest.
Then he wrapped his arm around my legs, hooking it under my knees, and pulled them up toward my chest. His other arm wrapped around the back of my neck, locking me in place.
Full Nelson.
I’d seen this position in porn before, but I’d never experienced it.
Holy fuck.
He planted his feet on the mattress and started thrusting up into me, hard and fast, and I couldn’t do anything but take it.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” My whole body was trembling.
It only took a few strokes before I was coming, my pussy clenching around his dick, my vision going white.
I thought about Ryan. He was the last nigga I’d fucked before Stone. Ryan was decent in bed, but he was basic. Missionary, maybe doggy style if I was lucky. I couldn’t even imagine him attempting some shit like this.
Stone was a different type of nigga.
He kept fucking me, relentless, and I came again, screaming his name.
Finally, I felt him tense beneath me, his grip tightening, and then he was coming too, groaning low in his throat.
He pushed me aside when he was done, and I collapsed on the bed.
Stone sat up and disposed of the condom, then stood and started getting dressed, his breathing steady.
I just stared at him, wondering if this nigga was an alien or some shit. How the fuck was he not tired?
“Put your clothes back on,” he said, pulling his shirt over his head. “We leaving.”
I perked up at that, hope flaring in my chest. “You mean I can go home?”
He looked at me like I was stupid. “Nah. I’m taking you to get something to eat.”
I rolled my eyes but didn’t protest. I was hungry as fuck, and at this point, I’d take what I could get.
I got dressed, pulling my clothes back on for the second time today, and followed Stone downstairs and out the front door.
The guard was still there, standing by one of the cars in the driveway. He nodded at Stone as we passed.
Stone walked over to a sleek black Mercedes and opened the passenger door for me.
I paused, surprised by the chivalry. This nigga had just fucked me like an animal and now he was opening doors for me?
I slid into the passenger seat, and he closed the door behind me, then walked around to the driver’s side.
As he started the engine and pulled out of the driveway, I stared at his profile. His strong jawline, his dark eyes focused on the road, his tattooed hands gripping the steering wheel.
What the fuck had I gotten myself into with this crazy ass nigga?