Addicted

Chapter 5

Stone

I pulled out of the driveway with Indie in the passenger seat, my hands gripping the steering wheel as I navigated through the quiet streets. The sun had set completely now, leaving the neighborhood bathed in the orange glow of streetlights.

I reached over and turned on the stereo, letting Mozzy’s album fill the silence. The bass thumped through the speakers, and I bobbed my head slightly to the beat, letting the music settle into my bones.

I could feel Indie’s eyes on me. She was glaring at the side of my face. I didn’t need to look at her to know. I could feel the heat of her stare, the anger radiating off her in waves.

I was thrown off by my own actions.

That was the truth of it. I didn’t keep women around like this. I fucked them at hotels, paid for their rides home, and never saw them again. That was how I operated. I liked to keep shit clean and simple. No attachments.

But Indie... I wasn’t ready to let her go yet.

I didn’t understand it and I didn’t like it. But it was the truth.

The restaurant wasn’t far from the crash pad, maybe ten minutes away. I’d chosen it on purpose. It was close enough that I could get her fed and get her back without wasting too much time. I had shit to handle tonight, and I couldn’t afford to be out here playing house with this woman.

But here I was.

I turned onto the main street, the lights from the storefronts and restaurants casting shadows across the dashboard. Mozzy’s voice filled the car, rapping about loyalty and betrayal.

I found a parking spot near the restaurant and pulled in, cutting the engine. The music stopped abruptly, leaving us in silence. I sat there for a moment, my hands still on the steering wheel, before I finally turned to look at her.

Indie was staring straight ahead, her jaw tight, her arms crossed over her chest. She looked pissed. Beautiful, but pissed.

I narrowed my eyes at her.

“You better not try no funny shit in there,” I said, my voice low and deadly. “Or I’ll kill you and Ishmael.”

Her head snapped toward me, her eyes flashing with anger.

“Fuck you, nigga,” she said, her voice sharp. “Just let me eat in peace.”

I nodded slowly, a dark chuckle escaping my throat.

This woman really had no filter. No fear in her heart. She knew I was a dangerous man, but she still couldn’t control that mouth of hers. Most people would’ve been trembling by now. Begging. Apologizing. But not Indie.

She reached for the door handle, and I spoke before she could open it.

“Don’t touch it.”

She froze, her hand hovering over the handle, and looked at me with confusion.

I got out of the car and walked around to her side, opening the door for her. She stared up at me, her eyebrows raised, clearly surprised by the gesture.

I didn’t say anything. Just held the door open and waited.

She climbed out, and I closed the door behind her, then placed my hand at the small of her back, guiding her toward the restaurant entrance. When we reached the door, I opened it for her too, letting her walk in first.

The hostess greeted us with a bright smile. “Good evening! How many?”

“Table for two,” I said.

“Right this way.”

She led us through the dimly lit restaurant to a booth in the back corner. It was private, away from the other diners. Perfect.

Indie slid into the booth, and I sat across from her, my eyes never leaving her face.

The hostess handed us menus and told us our server would be with us shortly. Then she disappeared, leaving us alone.

A waiter appeared almost immediately, a young Black dude with a nervous smile.

“Good evening, folks. Can I start you off with something to drink?”

“Cognac,” I said. “Neat.”

“I’ll have a Moscow mule,” Indie said, her voice softer now, more polite.

The waiter nodded and left to get our drinks.

Indie opened her menu and started scanning it, her eyes moving over the options. I didn’t bother looking at mine. I already knew what I wanted.

Instead, I just watched her.

I couldn’t take my eyes off her. She was fucking beautiful. The way her curly hair framed her face, the way her full lips pursed slightly as she read, the way her brown eyes focused intently on the menu.

And that pussy...

Fuck.

I done been in some good pussy before, but Indie’s pussy was something else. The way she gripped my dick, the way she got wet for me, the way she came. It was superb.

I planned to get back inside her shit a few more times when we got back to the crib. Maybe take her from behind this time. Or have her ride me while I watched those titties bounce.

The waiter returned with our drinks, setting them down in front of us.

“Are you ready to order?” he asked.

Indie nodded. “I’ll have the salmon and loaded mashed potatoes.”

“Excellent choice,” the waiter said, scribbling it down. He looked at me. “And for you, sir?”

“Steak. Medium rare. French fries.”

“Perfect. I’ll get that in for you.”

He left again, and we were alone.

Indie took a sip of her drink, then finally looked up at me. Our eyes locked, and we just sat there in silence, staring at each other. The tension between us was thick and damn near suffocating. After a long moment, she spoke.

“Can I call my brother?” she asked. “Let him know I’m okay?”

“No.”

Her eyes narrowed, and I could see the anger flare up again. “How long are you planning to keep me?” she asked, her voice tight.

I leaned back in the booth with my arms crossed over my chest.

“As long as I want you.”

She looked like she wanted to fly across the table and smack the taste out of my mouth. Her hands clenched into fists on the table, her jaw tight, her eyes blazing. But she didn’t move. She just sat there scowling at me.

I let the silence stretch between us for a moment before I spoke again.

“Ishmael is fine,” I said. “And he knows you’re alive.”

Her eyebrows shot up. “How do you know that?”

“I got my men watching your condo,” I said. “Making sure he stays out of trouble while you’re away.”

She looked surprised by that, her expression softening just slightly. Then she nodded, her voice dry.

“Thanks.”

She took another sip of her drink, then looked at me again.

“I’m gonna lose my job if I don’t at least call my boss,” she said. “Tell him I’m sick or something.”

I smirked.

“Roman can’t fire you unless I say so.”

Her eyebrows rose in question. She probably wondered how I knew her boss, but I’d done my research on her and Ishmael the night they caused a disturbance on my corner.

“I own Velvet,” I said.

Her eyes widened. “What?”

“I own the club,” I repeated. “Roman works for me.”

“I’ve never heard of you before,” she said, her voice skeptical.

“That’s how I want it,” I said. “The employees don’t need to know I’m the owner.”

She stared at me for a long moment, processing that information. Then she shook her head slightly, like she couldn’t believe what she was hearing.

The waiter returned with our food, setting the plates down in front of us.

“Enjoy,” he said, then left us alone again.

We ate in silence. Indie focused on her food, cutting into her salmon and taking small bites. I watched her between bites of my steak, my mind drifting to what I was gonna do to her when we got back.

When we finished eating, I paid the bill and we left.

The drive back to the crash pad was quiet.

Indie stared out the window, her arms crossed, her expression unreadable.

When we pulled into the driveway, I noticed the three big boxes sitting on the front porch.

Good. My niggas had come through. I’d shot them a text earlier when Indie complained about not having any clothes.

I parked the car and got out, walking around to open Indie’s door. She climbed out without a word, her eyes landing on the boxes.

She didn’t ask any questions as I unlocked the front door and told her to go inside.

She walked into the living room and sat down on the couch, watching as I brought each box into the house one by one. When I was done, I locked the front door and turned to face her.

I nodded toward the boxes.

“There’s your shit.”

Her head jerked toward me, confusion written all over her face. “What shit?”

“Clothes. Purses. Shoes.”

She stood up and walked over to one of the boxes, opening it slowly. I watched as her face transformed from confusion to shock.

“This is from my condo,” she said, her voice rising. “You had someone go inside my house and pack my shit?”

She spun around to face me, her eyes blazing with fury.

“How long are you planning to keep me here, nigga?!”

I stared at her, my expression calm.

“I already told you,” I said. “As. Long. As. I. Want. You.”

Something inside her snapped.

I saw it happening. The rage building in her eyes, the way her body tensed, the way her fists clenched at her sides. Then she rushed me.

She came at me fast, her fists flying, trying to hit me, scratch me, hurt me in any way she could. I overpowered her easily, grabbing her wrists and pinning her arms at her sides.

“Calm the fuck down, Indigo,” I said, my voice low and dangerous.

Her eyes went wide at the sound of her full name.

“Fuck you!” she screamed, struggling against my grip.

I smirked.

“You bout to.”

I unbuttoned her jeans and yanked them down her legs while she rained her fists down on my shoulders and back. I ignored the hits because they didn’t hurt, just annoyed me. I tossed her down on the couch.

I ripped her panties off, the fabric tearing in my hands, and freed my dick from my pants. I slammed inside her, and she gasped, her nails piercing my back, scratching me up as I fucked her hard and deep.

She kept talking shit, cussing me out, calling me every name in the book. And I kept fucking her until the shit talking turned into moaning. Then begging.

“Oh God, oh God, oh God,” she whimpered, her body trembling beneath me.

I taunted her, my voice low in her ear.

“That’s right. Come on this dick.”

She did. Her pussy clenched around me, her back arching, her nails digging deeper into my skin.

I kept going, chasing my own release, until I finally pulled out and came on the hardwood floor, my dick pulsing as I released.

I stared down at my uncovered dick, the realization hitting me like a freight train. I’d just fucked her without a condom.

I never did that. Never.

Indie was dangerous.

She was fucking my head up, making me do shit I didn’t do, breaking rules I’d set for myself years ago. But even as I thought it, I knew I wasn’t about to give her up.

Not yet.

I grabbed her by the arm and pulled her to her feet, then led her upstairs to the bedroom.

We went a few more rounds with me taking her from behind, her riding me, me flipping her onto her back and fucking her until she couldn’t speak.

Eventually, she passed out, her body limp and exhausted on the bed.

I got dressed, grabbed my keys, and left.

I had to meet with Kenzo and my soldiers. Had business to handle.

***

The warehouse on the east side was buzzing with activity when I pulled up. My soldiers were scattered around the space, some counting money, others checking inventory, a few standing guard by the doors.

I walked in, and the room went quiet.

“Boss,” Julio said, nodding at me.

I nodded back and made my way to the center of the room, where a table was set up with stacks of cash and ledgers.

“Give me the rundown,” I said.

For the next hour, my soldiers gave me updates on what was happening in the traps. Money counts, product movement, any issues with customers or rival crews.

Everything was running smoothly. As it should be.

Then the conversation shifted to the traitor.

The room got tense. I could feel it. The way my soldiers shifted uncomfortably, the way their eyes darted around, avoiding mine.

Nobody wanted to be mistaken for the person causing the leak. Because that would mean death.

I let my gaze sweep over the room, studying each man carefully. Then my eyes landed on Wes.

He was standing near the back, his arms crossed, his face tight. He looked more uncomfortable than anyone else in the room.

I narrowed my eyes at him.

“Wes,” I said, my voice cutting through the silence.

He looked up, his eyes meeting mine for a split second before darting away.

“Yeah, boss?”

“You solid?”

“Yeah,” he said quickly. “I’m solid.”

I stared at him, letting the silence stretch. The tension in the room was suffocating.

“You sure about that?” I asked, my voice low and dangerous.

“I’m sure,” he said. “It ain’t me, Stone. You know I’m solid, man.”

I held his gaze for a long moment, then nodded slowly.

“Aight.”

I dismissed everyone, and they filed out quickly, eager to get away from the tension.

When the room was empty, Kenzo walked over to me, his expression a mix of surprise and annoyance.

“Damn, my nigga, I ain’t even had a full twenty-four hours to look into Wes and you already pressing him?”

“You ain’t see how he couldn’t even look me in the eye?” I asked. “That nigga is guilty as fuck, Zo.”

“I need more time to feel him out. I just don’t think he the one. Let me get solid proof before we murk one of our best soldiers. I’m working on it.”

“Work faster,” I said.

Kenzo was quiet for a moment, then he spoke again. “I heard you had some niggas box up Indie’s shit from her condo.”

I looked at him, my jaw tightening. “So?”

“So how long you planning on keeping this freaky shit up?” he asked.

I glared at him.

“Stop worrying about my dick,” I said, my voice sharp. “And figure out who gave them niggas the drop.”

Kenzo just shook his head and waved me off, a small smirk on his face.

“Aight, man. Whatever you say.” As he walked out, I could hear him singing that Kendrick Lamar shit under his breath, “Freaky-ass nigga, he a sixty-nine God. Hey, hey, hey, hey, run for yo’ life.”

I almost chuckled at his silly ass.

When he was gone, I stood there in the empty warehouse, my hands in my pockets and stared at the stacks of cash on the table.

Indie had my head fucked up and I didn’t understand why.

I wasn’t the type of nigga to get caught up over a woman. I’d fucked plenty. Beautiful women, women with status, women who would do anything I asked. But none of them had gotten under my skin like Indie.

There was something about her. The way she looked at me with no fear. The way she talked shit even when she knew I could kill her. The way her body responded to mine.

I couldn’t shake her, and that was dangerous. Because in my line of work, attachments were weaknesses. And weaknesses got you killed.

But I wasn’t ready to let her go.

Not yet.