Page 78 of Roulette: The Madam

I curled my right arm underneath her body. She fit perfectly. As if she belonged here. As if this was her spot all along. As if this was her body all along. As if my home was hers all along.

Her breath against my chest made the hairs on the nape of my neck stand at attention. Beneath all those layers she piled on over the years, she was the sweetest. Though I hadn’t met that side of her yet, I sensed it.

Underneath it all, she wanted all the things girls wanted at heart. She just didn’t know it yet and hadn’t bumped into a nigga that was ready to help her uncover it all to get to the core of her being.

“Ninety days, Princess. Ninety days to rid your system of that nigga and any other nigga whose first name isn’t Israel and last name isn’t Kingston.”

Her silence was agonizing. She remained quiet, but sleep hadn’t visited her yet. She was awake. The movement of her index finger as she traced her name on my back was evidence of her consciousness.

“Roule–”

Her lips crashing into mine quieted me. The same hand that was pressed against my back was now pressed against my hard dick, pulling it from my pants. Her tongue roamed my mouth. She tasted like forevers and flowers and joint accounts and beaches and happiness and assets.Like mine.

She gyrated her hips, rubbing her pussy against my tool. I could feel her throbbing against me. I could smell her begging for me. Her arousal was loud and it was active, demanding things that I wanted to give her–solely.

“Israel,” she whispered against my lips.

Yes?

So far gone, I answered in my head instead of with my mouth.

“Israel,” she repeated, desperation distorting her tone.

My dick was slippery wet. She was marinating my shaft with her personal seasoning.

Fuck.

“Israel.”

“Yes, Princess?”

“You feel good inside of me,” she expressed.

You feel good around me.

“Yeah?”

“Yes.”

Labored, shaky breathing sent me spiraling. Roulette was such a mind-fuck. She knew it. I knew it. She was as much of a gift as she was a curse.

“Do you like being inside of me?”

With each word she spoke, her lips brushed against mine. The pressure mounting forced my intrusive thoughts out. I bit down on her fluffiness.

“Ughhh–” she moaned.

Fuck.

I was ready to blow a gasket. My nut was rising from my sack and I hadn’t breached her well yet.

She’s fucking insane.

“Do you like being inside of me?”

Her words rushed out the second I freed her mouth. Absent-mindedly, I nodded.

“Say it,” she demanded.

---