Page 146 of Roulette: The Madam

It sounded even better than hearing Israel roll off her tongue.

“Wai– Baby, pleas–”

“Un un,” I declined, knowing exactly where her pleas stemmed from. She was almost on top of the table, trying her hardest to relieve the pressure that was mounting.

“You got this, Princess. Accept it– accept every inch of this motherfucker.”

“Ummmmmm— Isra— oh God. I’m gonna–”

I stroked her longer, harder, and slightly faster.

“Uhhhh– Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Uhhh.”

She splintered. Beautifully. But, we were far from finished. She’d awaken the beast within me. It needed company. I wouldn’t find contentment until hers was reawakened and they danced off in the dark together. Hand-in-hand.

I loosened my grip around her hair and let it fall down her back. I had a seat in the chair behind me as she gathered her bearings. Turning around to face me, she wore a smug on her face. Her pussy was still contracting. Her stomach was still caved.

“Fix your face, Princess. And, climb up. Your chariot awaits you.”

Obliging with a nod, she placed a foot on both sides of me. As she lowered her pussy onto me, her lips joined mine.

Fuck. She feels like mine.

“Shhhhh–”Roulette warned, creeping into her home.

“You scared of a teenager?”

“Have you met teenagers?”

“Mine.”

“Listen, they can be–alot. Have you tiptoeing around your own shit. And not because you’re afraid of them, but you don’t want the bad energy roaming in your vents. If they are in a funk, they will make sure everyone around them knows it and is in one, too.”

“Malaya isn’t like that, though. She’s always got good energy or sad energy. There’s hardly an in-between for her.”

“Which I’ve noticed, but you still have to be careful.”

She placed her things on the counter and opened the fridge.

“Care for one?”

She held up two bottles of water.

“Yeah.”

I lifted my hand, waiting for her to toss one of the bottles. Instead, she turned and walked over to the nearest set of cabinets. She set the waters on the island and then removed two glasses from the open cabinet.

When she returned to the ice maker, she filled them with ice. I watched in complete awe as she uncapped both bottles and poured them into the cups. She, then, proceeded to open a drawer under the island. Two coasters appeared.

She placed them both on the counter and slid one in my direction. She placed the glass of water on top of it. In disbelief, I accepted the glass and tipped it the second it touched my lips. When I lowered it, half empty, I noticed hers was surrounded by her fingers, but there was a glass straw up to her lips as she sipped. I tilted my head, trying to comprehend what was happening.

“What?”

“For water that could’ve stayed in the bottle?”

“Not in my house, Big Fella. If I can help it, plastic will never touch my lips. It doesn’t promote my personality well. In fact, it blemishes it.”

“Blemishes it?” I chuckled.

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