Page 65 of Roulette: The Madam

He entered me. Right then. Right there. With our faces just inches apart. My legs in the air. My hands around my ankles. And, finally, his lips on mine.

“Uhhhhhh–” I gasped, needing to grab ahold of something connected to him.

“Hold them fucking ankles, Roulette,” he chastised as my hands dropped onto his shoulders.

He was audacious with his strokes. They grew deeper and harder each time he exited and reentered me. He was digging into my tunnel, coaxing my water from its well.

“Mmmmm– yssss?—”

Our tongues slow danced. He was an impressive kisser. Skilled. Passionate. Confident. He roamed my mouth as if it wasn’t his first time visiting. I allowed it.

With him, I was quickly understanding that I’d allow almost anything, including letting him enter my oasis without payment. He was the first of a few things I’d experienced. But, luckily, that all ended tonight.

One night only. I reminded myself.

Technically, tonight had cost Chino two million dollars. He had paid to see me fuck the man he looked up to and took advice from weekly. I wouldn’t have it any other way.

The thought brought a smile to my face as Israel acquainted himself with the extent of my oral care. My mouth was in pristine condition. So was my pussy, and he was enjoying them both.

“Uhhh. Yessss. Yessss!”

My fingers locked around my ankles as Israel dug into me.

Wham.

Wham

Wham.

Wham.

Our bodies slammed into each other with each stroke.

“Umph.” Groans that left his body serenaded mine.

He surrounded me. His hands found my hips and made themselves a home. His dick reached the depths of me. His eyes covered me completely, never leaving my frame.

The sound of our bodies connecting became my favorite melody. Together, they made the most beautiful tunes. The music we made was in a genre of its own. It was both soft and serious. Subtle and sweet. Anxious and patient. Slow and sacred. Sensual and sexy. Deep. Demanding. Dramatic. Drunkened. And, so damn good.

Fuck. I caved, unable to withstand the intensity of the moment. Of him. Of us. Together, as one.

“I’m gonna cu–m,” I announced.

His permission was requested. My position had changed. Submission suppressed my urge to do as I pleased. Israel extinguished my desire to lead.

He was dominant by nature. He hadn’t learned the skill. He was born to command. And, for the first time in my life, I was wondering if I was born to follow. The idea left an awful taste in my mouth, but the remnants of Israel overpowered the bitterness.

“Then, cum,” he suggested, taking a thumb to my clit.

I buckled. My body numbed and became hyper-sensitive simultaneously. The room grew silent with each passing second. I could no longer hear the words coming from Israel’s mouth, but there was no doubt in my mind that he was whispering sweet nothings. His lips were easy to read.

FIVE

Cum on this motherfucker, love.

That’s it. Don’t fight it.

You feel so fucking good.

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