Page 63 of Roulette: The Madam

Like a raging bull, steam escaped his ears and nose. He was livid. It was written all over his face. His stance had changed. So had his mind. He quickly learned that agreeing to Israel joining us in bed was not the wisest decision. But, neither was inviting Kiara. He’d played. I’d played better and didn’t need a baby to conquer the scoreboard.

“Lower your voice,” Israel ordered.

“I’m a grown ass man.”

“Then show me–” Israel challenged with a smirk, unfazed by Chino’s antics.

“That wasn’t the fucking plan,” he repeated.

“Plans change,” I expressed, sitting upright in the bed.

“Roulett–”

“I didn’t plan to walk in and find my manager bent over getting love strokes from my man. Neither did I plan to see a pregnant belly. But, plans change. So do minds. So dohearts. Please–” I paused, laying my back against the comforter. “Excuse us.”

The wind from his abrupt and highly anticipated exit lifted a few strands of hair on my head.

“Feels better in here already,” I whispered.

As the words left my mouth, Israel took another step back from the bed. Soundlessly, he demanded my presence. I lifted from the bed and fell to my knees. His cream-coated dick stood at attention. My depleted appetite was instantly revived.

I drew as much saliva in my mouth as I possibly could and pushed it out at once.

Puh!

His body jerked forward as the contents of my mouth landed on the tip of his tool. Before I had the opportunity to surround him with my jaws, his hand was around my neck and his chin was near his chest. He peered down at me, lust blurring faded lines of fantasy and reality for us both.

“You’re the prettiest on your knees, Roulette.”

“It costs to keep me here.”

“My pockets are deep and my dick is good, habibi. I think I can manage.”

A smile widened my lips.

“Good then.”

His hand migrated to the back of my head. Slowly, he guided his dick into my warmth. With my teeth separated and my tongue pressed against the bottom of my mouth, I accepted his girth. Two veins, visible on his forehead, protruded as his features contorted.

His soft brown skin was a result of his melanin levels. He was beautiful. His Arabic and African American lineages combined to give him unique features that weren’t seen very often. He was in possession of skin that I would nearly kill for.

My aesthetician was paid well to keep my pores tight and my skin tone even across my entire body. Israel was made that way. So many others were, but I assume God felt as though he’d gifted me enough and left that one off my lengthy list of aesthetically pleasing additions.

“Shiiiii– t–”

Pleasure was smeared across his handsome face. The sounds that erupted in the silence heated my center. Though distressed, it was for all the right reasons. Israel was coming undone before my very eyes.

“Fuck. Suck that motherfucker,” he whined, sending a chill up my spine.

His words of encouragement manifested a wetter, slicker mouth. Bubbles appeared, creating a foamy consistency that helped me glide up and down his dick with ease. I gathered his testicles in my hand and massaged them like stress balls, rotating them carefully.

“Mmmm.”

I twirled my tongue around his head as I sucked him deeper into my mouth. His body inched backward, disturbing the peace his stress relievers were offering. I lifted my left hand and rounded his thighs to reach his right ass cheek. I pulled him closer, pulled him into me. Pulled him up to me.

“Uhhhhh–”

My gag reflex awakened as the tip of his dick threatened to enter the canal that led to my stomach and internal organs. I didn’t cower. I accepted the challenge.

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