Page 87 of Roulette: The Madam

His smile was damaging. It pierced my heart. Squeezed my lungs. And, deemed me speechless.

“I’ve missed your pussy on the tip of my tongue,” he admitted, shoving his hands in his pants and squaring his shoulders.

His body expanded and shrunk simultaneously. He was expressing himself with words, but it was his body language that helped with the details. Israel wasn’t waging war. He was waving a white flag.

He wasn’t opposed to submission. He wanted me to know that I was in control of the moment.This moment. Until he was ready to have his moment. And, then there would be absolutely nothing I could do.

“But I’ve missed you more.”

I remained silent, refusing to give into the thoughts that were circulating through my head. To my surprise, seeing Israel fueled a fire inside of me. It stemmed from his absence.

Three months.

Three whole months.

His ability to abstain was maddening. Because, if I could have it my way, we’d be on our one hundredth session. My hands would be cuffed to his bed. My ass would be in the air. My nipples would be under the stress of the clamps he tightened each time I disobeyed his commands.

His dick would be so far up my pussy, I could taste the precum from his dick on the tip ofmytongue. But here we were. In a cold, stale hallway with my guards up and his flat as his heel on the floor.

I’ve missed the feeling of your dick down my throat.

But, I’ve missed your fingertips against my skin more.

I swallowed the words and straightened my spine.

Click.

Clack.

I headed in the opposite direction, praying I’d see the door of my office before folding. Israel would make it hard. Israel made everything hard. My nipples. My clit. My plans.

“You’re upset with me, Roulette?” He asked, regretfully. The disappointment in his voice mirrored my feelings.

Unable to continue my stride, I turned to face him once more.

Fuck.

I hated the way his eyes unraveled me.

“I want to make you feel better,” he offered, “The idea of you being upset with me–”

He shook his head. His shoulders pulled in, forming a horizontal arch of his back. His tongue clicked with the back of his mouth. His head tilted downward before lifting again.

My nostrils flared. Experiencing the unmanning of such a fucking man was heart-stopping. Debilitating.

Israel.

He was decentering himself and putting me at the center of his universe. His discomfort didn’t matter. His reservations didn’t matter. All that mattered was me at the moment.Thismoment.Mymoment.

“My heart can’t take it, Princess.”

“Three m– three months,” I breathed out.

My chest deflated. My walls came crumbling. My barriers vanished. My emotions caused a lapse in my judgment. After the words left my mouth, I regretted them immediately.

“Ninety days, Roulette. I gave you ninety days to get that out of your system.”

I’d replayed his words in my head at least ninety times. I remembered every one of them. The issue was I didn’t need ninety days. I didn’t even need nine. Once I discovered Kiarain Chino’s bed with a bulging belly, our relationship no longer existed.

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