Page 60 of Roulette: The Madam

Vomit threatened to surface, but I pushed it back down. Reminding myself of the broader goal kept the contents of my stomach at bay.

“As you should.”

The final word was followed by the sound of the door parting ways with the frame. Simultaneously, Chino and I turned around. And, there he stood, making everything still around us. Even time.

“El–” Chino called out. The shakiness in his voice was soothing.

Oh, this is going to hurt. Bad. I suppressed the urge to laugh like the super villian Chino would make me out to be in his story. Instead, I watched as he made his way to Israel, who stood and waited to be approached. He was uninterested in descending the two steps that led to Chino. He made him level up to greet him.

A walking metaphor, I complimented.

They embraced by first slapping palms and then meeting at the shoulders. Chino’s left shoulder. Israel’s right shoulder. Immediately, Chino stepped off to the bar and began pouring from the bottle next to an already used glass. There were two more waiting.

I could feel Israel’s eyes on me, luring me. I took the bait and followed the trail that led to all of his glory. My cheeks fluffed, peaking as I pushed the sea of saliva down my throat.

Not yet, love.

I’d be sucking the stubble off his dick tonight when I got it between my lips. The overproduction of saliva from the overworking of my glands due to the overwhelm of Israel’s presence was proof.

Shit.I groaned, inwardly.I’m going to make a mess.

My mouth gushed at the very thought. Israel would see the best of me. And, it was only one night. I was beginning to regret the time frame I’d placed on our sexual adventures.

Should’ve requested the entire weekend. A secluded beach. And, a villa.

Chino approached Israel with two drinks in his hand. He pushed one in his direction. Israel took interest in the beverage. As he lifted his hand to receive it, I intercepted.

“Uh hm–” I cleared my throat. “Do not touch that drink, Israel. I need you good and sober enough to remember every second of this night.”

Chino’s neck snapped in my direction. His eyes bulged as he stared at me from a distance. He took a look over his shoulder at his empty glass. He’d finished at least one before our arrival.

Instant regret covered his features. He then stepped closer to me and tried handing me the other drink in his hand. I shook my head, declining his offer.

“I want to remember this night, too.”

As the words left my mouth, I unfastened the long black trench. Underneath, my red, lace garments were exposed. I didn’t need to remove a single thread to have the best night of my life. The suit had been chosen carefully.

Thick, detachable strings of satin covered my nipples. An opening that ran from the baldness of my pussy beyond the crack of my ass gave easy access to my cenote.

Cenote | noun

Suh-no-tae

A natural sinkhole or well that exposes an underground body of water.

Red lacedgloves clung to my hands, snaking up my arm and ending at my elbow. The red-soled boots went on for miles and miles, finally stopping at my thighs. I quickly adjusted to the slight chill of the room. My body heated as I began my journey.

I descended the steps and strutted across the floor.Slowly. Methodically. I laid my coat on the seat in front of the piano. The footsteps of both men followed me into the master bedroom where I laid my back against the cool comforter. It lowered my temperature slightly.

Ummm.

My hair surrounded me. It laid on my shoulders, tickling my skin like feathers from a bird’s back. I stretched my legs apart, introducing my hued pussy to the guest who’d graciously accepted the invitation to join Chino and I in bed. They stretched toward the ceiling and then lowered toward my ears. I was spread wide, waiting for Dr. Israel Kingston to perform his duty with his God-given tools.

“There wasn’t enough room in the elevator,” I reminded him.

My eyes landed on Israel, who was standing directly in front of me in deep thought. I slid my right hand from my ankle to my breast. Israel’s head shook from one side to the other as he unfastened the buttons on his sleeves. My hand continued to stomach, my baldness, and then my clit.

Precision was his specialty. By the time I reached my sensitive nub, he was on the third button that held his shirt together in the center.

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