Page 62 of Addicted

“That shit ain’t negotiable,” he said. “You’re attached to me, which means you need to be protected at all times. It’s either that, or yo’ ass ain’t leaving at all. I’m good either way.”

I thought about it for a moment. Then I gave in.

“Fine,” I said. “Whatever. As long as I get to see Aurora.”

We were quiet for a few minutes. The tension in the room was thick, heavy, suffocating. Then Stone started talking.

And what he said shocked the hell out of me.

“My real name is Maximus Wright,” he said, his voice low. “My parents died in a car accident when I was young, so I really can’t tell you much about ‘em. I just remember having to move in with my grandmama afterwards. She was old as hell though, couldn’t really control me. She did the best she could for us but that wasn’t much. We was still poor as fuck. I started getting in the streets around eleven or twelve, looking up to dope boys, running errands for ‘em. Playing lookout and lil’ dumb shit like that. Then, they finally put me on for real.”

I stared at him, my anger momentarily forgotten. He kept going.

“I worked my way up to the top,” he said. “Did a lot of shit I ain’t proud of. A lot. Made more money than I could count. Over the years, the game changed me.Turned me cold. Distant. Because I had to be that way to survive. You can’t show no weakness in this life. You can’t let too many people in. ‘Cause the second you do, they’ll use it against you.”

He paused, his eyes locked on mine.

“I ain’t never taken a woman seriously,” he said. “Never claimed anyone. Never let anyone get close. You the first woman I ever claimed as mine.”

I was stunned. Completely speechless. Stone—Maximus—had just opened up to me in a way I never thought he would. He’d shown me a piece of himself, a vulnerability I didn’t think he was capable of.

And I wasn’t even sure how to respond.

“I’m sorry,” I said finally, my voice quiet. “About your parents.”

Stone nodded, acknowledging my words but not saying anything else. Then he looked at me, his gaze intense.

“Tell me about you,” he said.

I went quiet. Processing. Trying to figure out where to even start. Then I took a breath and let it out.

“My mom was an alcoholic,” I said. “My whole life. She was never really... there, you know? I had to take care of myself. And Ish. From the time I was a kid, I was the one making sure we had food, making sure we got to school, making sure we were okay.”

Stone listened, his expression unreadable.

“When she died five years ago,” I continued, “I became Ish’s legal guardian. I was twenty years old, and suddenly I was responsible for a kid. I had to work my ass off to support us. Bartending, dancing when I had to, doing whatever it took to keep us afloat. I busted my ass to get us into that condo. To give us something stable.Something safe.”

I paused, my throat tight.

“I always wanted to be a fashion designer,” I said. “That was my dream. I used to make my own clothes, customize shit, just...create. But I never had time to focus on it. I was too busy taking care of Ish. Too busy surviving.”

When I finished, Stone was quiet for a moment. Then he spoke.

“You ain’t gotta worry about money ever again,” he said. “I’ma take care of you. And Ishmael. Y’all are good forever.”

I didn’t know what to say to that. Didn’t know how to process it. So, I didn’t say anything. I just leaned forward and kissed him.

The kiss started slowly, but it quickly deepened, became more intense, more desperate. Stone’s hands slid down my body, gripping my hips, pulling me closer. I wrapped my arms around his neck, pressing myself against him, losing myself in the feel of his lips on mine.

He pulled back just long enough to strip off his clothes, then mine. And then he was on top of me, his body covering mine, his weight pressing me into the mattress.

But this time, he didn’t flip me over or put me in some crazy position. He just stayed there, looking down at me. His eyes locked on mine. Then he slid inside me, slow and deep, and I gasped.

He wrapped my legs around his waist and started moving, his strokes steady and deliberate, his forehead pressed against mine.

“This pussy feel so good, baby,” he murmured, his voice rough. “This the only pussy I need.”

I moaned, my nails digging into his back.