Page 92 of Addicted

Last night, after Stone fucked me into oblivion and had me screaming his name so loud that I was sure Brady and Ava heard me downstairs, I’d asked if I could go with him to LA in the morning.

I wanted to hang out with Aurora. I needed to get out of this damn house and just chill with my best friend for a few hours.

Stone wasn’t on board right away. He’d looked at me with that calculating expression, the one that said he was weighing options and considering all the ways shit could go wrong.

“I’d prefer if Aurora came here,” he’d said, his voice calm but firm.

That’s when I went the fuck off on him.

Cussed his ass out for a solid ten minutes about how I wasn’t a prisoner, how I needed to get out sometimes, how I was going crazy being stuck in the same place day after day. I’d called him controlling, possessive, unreasonable. Told him he couldn’t keep me locked up like Rapunzel in a tower.

Stone had just stared at me the whole time, his jaw tight, his eyes dark. But eventually, he’d given in.

“Fine,” he’d said. “But you’re taking Javion and Troy with you. Non-negotiable.”

I’d agreed immediately, not caring about the guards as long as I got to leave.

Now, standing in my closet getting ready, I couldn’t help but smirk to myself. I had power over Stone now. Real power. He couldn’t tell me no as easily as he used to. Couldn’t just dismiss my requests or ignore what I wanted. Something had shifted between us.

Maybe it was the barbecue. Seeing him interact with his friends, watching him be almost... normal. Maybe it was the way he’d been looking at me lately, like I was the only thing in the world that mattered.

Or maybe it was just time.

Time spent together, time learning each other, time building something that felt less like captivity and more like... something else.

Whatever it was, I could feel the change. And I liked it.

I pulled a white Chanel crop top off the hanger, the high neckline giving it a clean, expensive vibe. The matching skirt hugged my curves like it was made for me, sitting just right on my hips and making my ass look too damn good. I slipped on my white Gucci sneakers, the signature red and green stripe flashing with every step. Comfortable, but still fly as hell.

I threw on a Cartier love bracelet and diamond studs, with a Rolex at my wrist. I grabbed my white Chanel crossbody and took one last look in the mirror.

I looked expensive. Like I lived this life. Like I belonged to a man with money. The thought made mepause.

Belonged to.

That’s what I was, wasn’t it? Stone’s woman. His… whatever the fuck we were. I still didn’t have a name for it.

Girlfriend felt too light. Too normal. I damn sure wasn’t his wife. But captive felt too harsh now, even though technically that’s how this whole thing started.

I shook the thought away.

Stone was in his closet getting ready too. I could hear him moving around, opening drawers, the soft rustle of fabric.

When I walked out of my closet and into the bedroom, he was just stepping out of his.

Damn.

He looked fine as hell.

Stone was dressed in dark colors, clean from head to toe. Givenchy jeans molded perfectly to his build, a Saint Laurent tee stretched across his broad chest. And over it, the jacket I made him. Tailored perfectly to his frame, like it had always belonged there. Black Balenciagas grounded the look, effortless but expensive.

Thick gold chains hung heavy at his neck, catching the light every time he moved, his diamond watch flashing just enough to remind you what kind of man he was.

His fade was sharp, his goatee lined with precision. He looked like money. Like power. Like a man who could have anything and anyone he wanted.

And for some reason, he wanted me.

Stone’s eyes traveled over me slowly, taking in every detail of my outfit. When his gaze met mine again, there was heat in his eyes.