Chapter 21
Indigo
My thighs burned as I bounced up and down on Malachai’s thick dick again and again, taking every inch while my soaked pussy clenched greedily around him.
Sweat slicked our bodies. The leather bench beneath us creaked loudly with every desperate roll of my hips.
The wet, filthy sound of my pussy wetting his cock was louder than our moans.
I had both hands wrapped tight around his throat, choking him hard. His face was flushed deep red, veins bulging in his neck, those gray eyes locked on mine with dark, twisted pleasure. Malachai got off on this shit—the harder I squeezed, the harder he throbbed inside me.
“Shit—Indigo—” he choked out, voice strained and raspy as I slammed down on him again, grinding my clit against his pelvis.
I leaned forward, nails digging into his neck, using his throat for leverage as I rode him faster, harder. My heavy tits bounced wildly in his face. My pussy was dripping down his balls, making a nasty mess all over him.
Right as I felt him start to throb violently inside me, right on the edge of exploding, I tightened my grip even more, completely cutting off his air.
His eyes widened.
I leaned down until my lips brushed his ear, still fucking him like my freedom depended on it.
“This enough to get me a night out?” I whispered. “Or do I need to keep riding this dick until you cum in me again?”
Malachai’s hips jerked up hard. A guttural groan ripped out of his restricted throat as he came, flooding my pussy with thick, hot spurts. His whole body tensed beneath me, cock pulsing deep as I kept choking him through his orgasm.
Only when he finally stopped twitching did I loosen my grip.
He sucked in a harsh breath, eyes still dark with lust and possession. For a long second he just stared at me, chest heaving.
Then his voice came out low and rough:
“Clean up,” he said, giving my ass a hard slap. “Get dressed. We’re leaving in an hour.”
I came downstairs forty-five minutes later in a black cocktail dress that hugged every curve like a second skin. My platinum bob was silky straight, lips painted deep red.
Malachai stood in the foyer surrounded by four of his men—all in dark suits, all armed. His voice was low and cold as he gave orders.
“No one gets within ten feet of her unless I say so. If anything feels off, you shoot first and ask questions later. The Volkovs still have a price on her head. I don’t care if it’s a waiter or a guest—you see something, you handle it.”
The men nodded.
He turned when he heard my heels on the marble. His eyes dragged slowly down my body, lingering on my thighs, my waist, the deep neckline of the dress. For a second, something dark and hungry flashed across his face.
Then his expression settled back into that unreadable mask.
“I need you to hear my rules, Indigo, and obey them.”
He stepped closer, towering over me, voice dropping so only I could hear.
“The Russians still have a hit out on you. So while we’re at this party, you do exactly what I say.
You stay by my side. You don’t wander off with Maya.
You don’t go to the bathroom alone. You don’t even look at another man too long.
You smile, you drink, you act like a happy wife.
But the second I tell you we’re leaving, we leave. No questions. No attitude.”
He gripped my chin, tilting my face up.
“And if I even think you’re looking for a way to run tonight…” His thumb brushed my bottom lip. “I’ll drag you out of there in front of everybody. Do you understand me?”
I stared up at him.
“Yeah,” I said, voice sweet.
He nodded. “Let’s go.”
The drive only took half an hour.
The anniversary party was at a beautiful rooftop venue downtown Tampa. As soon as we walked in, Maya spotted me and practically sprinted over, grabbing my arm.
“Girl, come with me right now,” she hissed, dragging me away from Malachai before he could protest. I went, ignoring everything he said, and was surprised when he didn’t follow.
She pulled me into a quiet corner near the bar, eyes wide.
“Why the fuck didn’t you tell me Cooly’s daddy is a high-ranking member of the Black Axe?” she whispered.
I blinked. “The Nigerians?”
“Yes, bitch! Like, the Nigerians.”
My stomach dropped. “How do you even know that?” I knew Cooly was somebody, but not that type of somebody.
“Because Raziel and Priest were talking about it. His father’s people were asking questions about the Russians, and Malachai…
and about you. Then Cooly called me about the Russians.
He told me to tell you he was still looking into it.
I asked him straight up. He didn’t even try to hide it.
His real name is Chinedu Balogun. I googled him—didn’t find much except that he came to the States to go to NYU and owns some kind of tech company.
But his father? That man is the devil. I went down the rabbit hole.
They’ve got connections all over Europe, Canada, money laundering, sex trafficking rings, hits…
They’re straight killers. I’m talking international power. ”
No wonder he told me he could handle the Russians for me.
Maya grabbed my hand, squeezing tight.
“I asked him why he’s helping you. He said because he wants you, Indigo. He wants you.”
Before I could even process that bomb, a deep, smooth voice cut through the noise behind me.
“Midnight.”
I froze.
Maya’s eyes widened.
I turned slowly.
Cooly stood there in a perfectly tailored black suit, locs pulled back, gold chains gleaming. His eyes locked on mine with that same intense, patient hunger.
“There you are,” he said, voice low and warm, like we were the only two people in the room. “Been looking for you, Midnight.”