Page 21 of Roulette: The Madam

When my back pressed into the leather, Matías’ grip loosened. His hand lowered, resting on my thigh where he squeezed as our bodies shifted from one side to the other, consequential of the vehicle’s exaggerated movement.

Our irises met midway. Curiosity clung to his pupils. Lust dilated them. His desperation was intoxicating–for us both.

“You’re very, very far from home.”

“I’m exactly where I want to be.”

“Comprendida.”

No more words were exchanged. We remained quiet through the brief journey to the tarmac and then through the twenty minute ride on the small aircraft that was suitable for eight passengers. His hand never left my frame. His clinginess was exhilarating.

Not only was he trying to convince himself that I was real and in his possession, but he was making sure my hands were visible at all times. My connection to Chino was a very small detail of my life. Being a Childers was my entire identity. Matías was being cautious.

There was no need. We made our way up to the door of his heavily guarded home in Tibu. The coca-rich region had the crime rates rising with each passing day. There waswar all around us but the serenity of Matías’ compound, the soundlessness spoke volumes.

He was knee deep in the battle ground but was untouched. His land was in pristine condition. There wasn’t a blemish on his body. His grass was luscious and green. His hands were clean. His money was growing. His riches covered him completely. While the locals were fleeing to Venezuela to avoid victimization, he was comfortably tucked away behind his gates.

I leaned closer, placing my mouth near his ear. His movement halted. The woodsy notes of his cologne hardened my nipples to the point of pain. My breath hiked in my throat as the words that had been tugging at my heartstrings came to life.

“If I wanted you dead, Matías, you would be. I’m not here for business. I’m here for pleasure. You’re safe,” I explained.

A chuckle fell from his lips as he turned toward me. His pensive gaze tore through my threads and touched my pussy. Wrapped around my throat. Gripped my breast, pushing them up on my chest. Split my ass cheeks and fucked me good. Unprovoked. Unsolicited.

“The Chemist–” he whispered, “Tell him I said hello, would you?”

A nod lifted my head before I lowered again.

“So fucking beautiful. So fierce, yet so sweet.”

I stepped closer, closing the gap between us. It was important that he heard me clearly.

“So is my pussy. And, within the next five minutes, I want to smell it on your beard. Your lips. Your nose.”

“A sugared rim,” he insisted.

“Very fucking sugary,” I promised.

“Entra.”

His command led me into his home. Our footsteps echoed, quickly getting lost in the massiveness of the mansion. Matías was in a league of his own. Though expansive, his home wasmodest and so was his lifestyle. They didn’t reflect the number in his accounts. I admired that about him. He’d come from nothing. Money hadn’t changed him much. He was the same man. Justricher. Deadlier. Sexier. Quieter.

There wasn’t an item out of place in the well-constructed home. It was a museum of sorts. Colombian artwork lined the walls. Hand-carved statues rested on the floors.

Click.

Clack.

Click.

Clack.

My heels collided with the floor as I made note of every detail, including the exits and men near them. We made it across the entryway after what felt like an eternity, finally reaching the stairs. The glass elevator mere feet away contained a housekeeper and one of the guards. By the time they reached the ground level, we were halfway up the steps.

Click.

Clack.

Our palms collided as his grip tightened on my hand. He was slow in stride, making sure I could keep up. His speed wouldn’t be an issue. I’d been strutting in stilettos since the tender age of four. My collection included more of them than it did sneakers and flats. I loved the way heels rounded my ass, toned my legs, and controlled my posture.

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