Page 157 of Roulette: The Madam

I slid into her with ease.

“Mmmmmmm.”

Her spine arched, lifting the middle of her body from the bed. She was feeding me her pussy. I accepted every inch of her depth. It was magnetic. So was her body. So was her mind. So was her heart. And, I couldn’t get enough of either of them.

Shit.

She was soaked. My chances of lasting more than a few minutes were slim to none. I powered the rose up again, pressing it against her. She yelped in pure, intense pleasure.

Slowly, I stroked her pussy until we’d both settled somewhere between delusion and oblivion. She came. And, she came again. And, I allowed her to. The contractions of her pussy pulled me deeper, working overtime to extract my semen. I was ready to hand it over.

My dick was sloppy wet. So were the sheets beneath us. I snatched the towel from her mouth and tossed it on the bed. Flushed with pleasure, her face contorted with gratitude.

“Who this pussy for, Princess?”

“Yours.”

“Who do you belong to, Princess?”

“You.”

“Who this dick for, Princess?”

“Meeeee–”

“Don’t ever forget that shit,” I groaned, releasing my load into her oasis.

“Israel.”

I uncuffed her and watched her fall flat against the bed. I redressed, taking the shirt I’d let her wear as well. There was a duffle bag full of her belongings and the keys to her vehicle.

“See you in a month, Princess,” I announced as I exited.

She could hardly keep her eyes open. She wouldn’t last very long. Neither would the flight. In a few hours we’d be touching the ground.

Seven days had passedand I was slowly regretting waking up each day without Roulette next to me. However, she needed the lesson this situation was teaching her. And though I fought against the urge to go snatch her ass up and bring her to my bed every night, I always won in the end and took my ass to sleep.

The black Yukon made a complete stop in front of the storage unit where Raquim and I stood. I nodded, assuring Raquim it was okay for him to go back to his whip. The door opened and I wasn’t surprised to see a face that resembled Roulette’s behind the tint.

Silently, he extended a hand. I accepted it, shaking firmly before folding my hands in front of me.

“Safe travels?”

“Very safe,” I responded.

“Good. Good. And, Roulette?”

“Roulette is Roulette.”

“True enough.”

“She’s recovering, I assume.”

“She’s a Childers. She didn’t need time to recover. That’s life as she knows it.”

I nodded, agreeing with his logic.

“And, Matías?”

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