Page 57 of Addicted

There was also a walk-in shower that could easily fit ten people. Glass walls, multiple shower heads, a built-in bench. It was excessive. But I didn’t do anything halfway.

“This is insane,” Indie said, shaking her head.

She walked back out into the bedroom and over to the closet doors. She opened the one on the right, the one I’d designated as hers, and froze.

The closet was fully stocked. Racks and racks of women’s clothing, all brand new, all with tags still attached. Designer shit. Gucci. Prada. Chanel. Versace. Dresses, jeans, tops, skirts, everything she could possibly need. Shoes lined the shelves. Heels, sneakers, boots. Purses hung on hooks—Louis Vuitton, Hermès, Fendi.

And in the glass case in the center of the closet was the jewelry. Diamond earrings. Necklaces. Rings. Watches. Everything sparkling, everything expensive, everythinghers.

Indie stood in the doorway, staring. Then she turned to look at me, her eyes narrowed.

“Did you used to live here with a bitch?” she asked, her voice sharp. “Whose clothes are these?”

I stared at her quietly for a moment. Then I said, “They yours.”

Indie blinked. “What?”

“They yours,” I repeated. “I had my people stock the closet. Everything in there is for you.”

She turned back to the closet, walking in slowly. She picked up one of the dresses, looking at the tag. Brand new. Her size. She picked up a pair of heels. Her size. She opened the jewelry case and stared at thediamonds inside.

“You’re crazy, Stone,” she said, her voice softer now. “I can’t believe you did this.”

I didn’t respond. I just watched as she walked back over to me, her eyes locked on mine.

She wrapped her arms around my neck, looking up at me. We stared at each other, and I realized in that moment that I’d do anything for her. Buy her anything. Give her anything. Kill anyone who even thought about taking her from me. There was no version of this where she wasn’t with me.

I captured her lips in a kiss. It started slow. Soft, tentative, like we were testing the waters. But it didn’t stay that way.

The kiss deepened, became more intense, more desperate. Our tongues tangled, our teeth clashed, our hands gripped each other like we were trying to pull each other closer, deeper,more.

I lifted her, and she wrapped her legs around my waist. I carried her to the bed and tossed her down. She was staring up at me with those big brown eyes, her chest rising and falling rapidly.

I stripped out of my clothes quickly. My shirt, pants, boxers, all of it hitting the floor. Then I grabbed her leggings and yanked them down along with her panties. Her tank top came next. Within seconds, she was naked beneath me, and I was hard as fuck.

I didn’t waste time with foreplay. I could see she was already wet for me, her pussy glistening, ready. I spread her legs wide and pushed inside her.

“Ooh, shit!” Indie cried.

I didn’t give her time to adjust. I just started fucking her with deep, hard strokes that made the bedshake.

I stared into her eyes the whole time. I wanted her to see it. Wanted her to see how gone I was over her. How she had me out of my fucking mind, doing shit I never thought I’d do. Moving her into my estate. Buying her clothes and jewelry. Claiming her in every possible way. She had a hold on me I couldn’t shake even if I wanted to.

I lifted her legs and put them on my shoulders, then pressed forward so her knees were damn near touching her chest, her ankles by her head. Then I drilled into her.

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!”