Chapter 12 #3
Indie screamed, tears forming in her eyes, her hands gripping the sheets.
“That’s my good girl,” I growled. “Come for me.”
She came almost immediately, her pussy clenching around my dick, her whole body shaking. But I didn’t stop. I kept fucking her, kept talking to her.
“You taking this dick so good,” I said. “This pussy mine. I own this pussy. I own you. You belong to me.”
“Yes,” Indie whimpered. “I’m all yours, daddy.”
“Ain’t no other nigga ever gon’ feel this pussy again,” I said, my voice hard. “You hear me?”
“Yes!” she cried. “I hear you!”
I felt my release building, felt myself getting close. I slammed into her one last time and came hard, filling her up. No condom. Again.
I pulled out and rolled onto my back, pulling her across my chest.
My breathing was steady, even. Hers was ragged, her body still trembling. We lay there in silence for a few minutes, just breathing. When her breathing finally returned to normal, Indie spoke.
“You’ve come in me like three times now,” she said quietly. “And I haven’t been taking my birth control.”
I looked down at her. She looked up at me, her eyes searching mine.
“It is what it is,” I said.
Her eyes went wide.
I knew what I was saying. I knew what I was accepting. The possibility that she could be pregnant with my baby. The possibility that she’d be tied to me permanently, irrevocably, in a way that went beyond anything else.
And I didn’t care.
In fact, part of me wanted it. I wanted her to carry my child. I wanted her to be mine in every possible way. It was reckless, it was dangerous, and it was insane, but I genuinely couldn’t bring myself to care.
Indie didn’t say anything. She just stared at me, her expression unreadable. Then she laid her head back down on my chest, and we lay there in silence, both of us knowing that everything had changed. That there was no going back now.
This was it.
***
I woke up at 5:30 like I always did. Something felt off immediately. It took me a second to place it, then I turned my head.
Indie wasn’t in the bed. The sheets had lost most of their warmth. She’d been up for a minute. And Indie being out of bed before me? That didn’t happen.
I sat up, listening. The house was quiet. I heard no movement upstairs. Where the hell did she go?
I got up, pulled on a pair of sweats, and stepped out into the hallway. I made my way downstairs, quiet and alert like always. Halfway down, I heard sounds coming from the direction of the kitchen.
When I hit the corner and walked into the kitchen, I stopped short, surprised by the sight.
Indie was at the stove. Brady was already in there too, standing off to the side like he wasn’t trying to be in the way.
The island was covered. Scrambled eggs. Pancakes.
Seasoned potatoes. Bacon. A full spread.
My eyes went straight to Brady. He shook his head right away, his hands coming up.
“Don’t look at me,” he said. “It was all Indie. I just showed her where everything was.”
My gaze shifted to her.
She glanced at me then just kept moving like she hadn’t taken over my entire kitchen.
“You gonna stand there staring or you gon’ eat?” she asked.
I stepped further into the room, my eyes moving over everything again.
“You ain’t have to do all this,” I said. “That’s what I pay Brady for.”
She finally gave me her full attention. “I know. I wanted to.”
There was silence for a moment before she continued.
“You set Ish up. That big ass room? All them games?” Her lips pressed together for a second. “He ain’t never had nothing like that before.”
I stayed quiet.
“And the closet,” she went on. “All that stuff you bought me… this whole place… so yeah. I cooked.”
Then she grabbed a plate and pushed it toward me, shaking her head slightly like she was tired of explaining herself.
“Just eat.”
I pulled out a chair and sat, but I wasn’t focused on the food right away.
She did this because she wanted to. Not because she had to. Not because I told her to. That wasn’t something I was used to. Not in my world. Everything I had was bought and paid for. It was expected.
Brady quietly excused himself, giving us space.
I picked up my fork and took a bite. The food was good. Same as that night at the crash pad.
“You remember what you told me last time you cooked?” I asked.
She gave me a look. “I say a lot of shit.”
“You said, ‘don’t get used to it’,” I reminded her, smirking.
Her lips twitched, but she rolled her eyes instead of smiling. “You shouldn’t. I wasn’t planning on making it a habit.”
I laughed. “You ain’t gotta make it a habit, Brady gon’ make sure we eating good. But I appreciate the gesture. For real.”
We stared at each other for a long moment, something unspoken passing between us.
“You’re welcome,” she said finally, turning back to the stove.
Silence settled over the kitchen.
I leaned back in the chair, watching her move around my kitchen like she wasn’t even thinking about it. Like this was normal. Like she was supposed to be here.
I wasn’t questioning it anymore. Bringing her here. Keeping her here.
That shit felt right.