Page 71 of Roulette: The Madam

My phone screen displayed the time, making me cringe inside. Not only did I hate odd numbers, but I wanted to be in bed at this hour. I’d had my fun. I wanted to see the stars behind my lids.

1:28a

The numbers changed before my eyes. As they did, the headlights of my vehicle threatened me with blindness. Thewheels barely came to a complete stop before I was in the parking lot, making my way around the side of my SUV to get inside.

The valet attendant stepped out and left the door open for easy access. I slid in behind him and got comfortable in my seat.

“Have a great night, ma’am.”

“You do the same,” I yawned.

I didn’t bother finding a suitable song for the drive. I wouldn’t be listening to any music tonight. The only thing I wanted to hear was the voices of my sisters at the moment. As I pulled deeper into the parking lot, prepared to exit, I began the search for our group messages. It wasn’t far, a few business threads had gotten in the way, but I found it rather swiftly.

Just as my finger lowered to press the FaceTime button, screeching tires halted all movement. I removed my gun from my lap and pointed it at the black extended cab in front of me. The front door pushed open, prompting me to open mine.

I wasn’t trained to be a sitting duck. I was trained to get active and that’s exactly what I did.

Fow.

The first shot sent the driver back inside of his vehicle. The second confirmed what I learned from the first, but it didn’t stop me from emptying the clip as a warning.

Fow.

Fow.

Fow.

Fow.

“It’s bulletproof.”

I heard him. That baritone. It was familiar. It raised fine bumps on my arms, reminding me of the time it had spent with me. Against my ear. Against my skin. Against my pussy. Against my nipples. Against my chest. Telling me how beautiful I was. How good I felt. And how crazy I was driving him.

“Israel–”

I heard him. That baritone. But, I hadn’t located the owner. My eyes were fixated on the driver of the unknown vehicle.

“You’re in no condition to drive home, Roulette. Lower your weapon and get inside of my car.”

Israel’s long frame came into full view. Still, my gun was trained on the truck blocking my car, prepared to reload and empty another clip into the whip.

“Voluntarily–” he threatened, “But, I’m not above force.”

I turned to face him, finally lowering my weapon. This wasn’t the bedroom. And, the reversal of roles wasn’t an option. Israel wouldn’t be submitting to me again tonight. And, no other night.

“One night, Israel. And, our night ended in P12.”

Silently, he approached me. When he finally stopped, he was close enough for me to smell the whiskey on his breath. He’d visited the lobby bar. He’d waited. And, my departure prompted his. He knew I’d come downstairs and he knew I’d be forced to drive home. He also knew that he wouldn’t let me.

“Frankly, our night ends when I say it ends, Madam.”

Israel lowered his body, swooped me up in his arms, and tossed me over his shoulder like the limp ragdoll I was.

“You’re not even in a position to walk.”

I dangled, mid-air. Discomfort and comfort found me simultaneously. Instead of tensing, I relaxed against his body, resting in the comfort and ignoring the slight discomfort.

“Good girl,” he whispered.

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