Page 27 of Roulette: The Madam

“You can start here.”

No words were exchanged. Chino closed the gap between us and placed both hands on my asscheeks. He inhaled the pussy that he once had solo access to.

I leaned forward, rubbing it on the tip of his nose. Matías had been scrubbed from my existence, but I was secretly chastising myself for bathing after our parting session.

His right hand fell from my ass. He pushed my thong aside. My pussy was met with the warmth of his tongue.

I was quickly reminded why I was so smitten with him. From the first day we’d met, my pussy had found a home on his top lip. They were a perfect match and not much had changed.

“Uhhhh–”

Chino’s tongue circled my clitoris. I placed a hand on his head, refusing to relinquish the control I had of our situation, his presence, and the moment. He was on borrowed time and he needed to be reminded every second of his visit.

I pressed my pussy into his face, limiting his breathing capabilities. He could pass out and I wouldn’t give a fuck. It would serve him right.

He sucked me into his mouth. My legs buckled, threatening to give out. Everything around me blackened. The solar system became visible behind my eyelids. I was ascending far beyond the earth’s core.

“Mmmmm. Yessss–”

“Have Kiara teach you her ways.”

With a shake of his head, Chino scoffed. “You serious right now, Roulette?”

“When aren’t I?” I questioned, pulling my skirt down. “See yourself out, Chino.”

“We ain’t done tal–”

“See yourself out, Chino. I would hate to have to tell you a third time. Goodnight.”

I didn’t wait for a response. Disdain coated every part of my body, even the part he’d just finished gnawing on. I climbed the stairs with the hem of my skirt in my hand. My heels collided with the stairs each time I took another step, reminding me that I’d taken them much deeper into my home than intended after touching outside surfaces. They needed to be sanitized before they made it back upstairs to join the others.

Sorry, Rhea. I’d broken one of her golden rules.

Never contaminate your home with the ways of the world– it’s filth, it’s greed, it’s danger, or it’s bitterness. Each time you cross the threshold, cleanse yourself, starting with the soles of your shoes.

I slid the mules from my feet when I reached my bathroom. My clothes came off, one piece at a time. And, by the time I made it to the shower, I was free of threads. I altered the position of the knob to determine the water’s pressure and used the digital scale to perfect the temperature.

When the logistics of my shower were handled, I tied the silk scarf around my edges and allowed the rest of it to blanket the length of my bundles. I stepped under the streamy stream of water in my birthday suit. Contentment quickly summoned me. My nerve endings gathered to heal themselves and the apprehension released itself without prejudice.

I rested my lids on top of each other. The weight of everything around me began to rest on my shoulders, again. My return to Clarke didn’t come without its challenges, but I was up for each and every one of them.

Yet and still–

I miss my Teddy.

I missed my Tee Jru.

I miss my Rugs.

I miss my Psalem.

I miss my Rome.

I miss my Rhea.

I miss my Egypt.

I miss baby Égée.

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