Page 14

EIGHT

“Sweet.”

The familiar, impressive tenor summoned every fiber of me. I welcomed the challenge.

“Thirty minutes is far from over.”

“I only needed ten.”

“The door is that way,” I replied, nodding toward the direction I’d watched aimlessly after Malachi and Makai disappeared.

“If it’s not your door that I’m walking through, then I’m not w–”

“I own the building, Israel. They’re all my doors,” I grimaced, unfolding my arms and turning around to face him.

“There she is.”

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 of my tongue. 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. This moment. My moment.

“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 Kiara in Chino’s bed with a bulging belly, our relationship no longer existed.

The love I had for him as a friend was the only thing that would take time to settle. The love I had for him as a partner was gone before I cleared the threshold of his door. I wasn’t one to harp on or drown in my heartbreak. What was done was done .

There were too many beautiful things to see, do, hear, and feel in the world to prioritize brokenness. I chose the latter. Chino didn’t deserve any more of my time or any more of my mind, not even in our breakup. So, I didn’t give him more. He wasn’t allowed to overstay his welcome in my head or heart.

The second a nigga had me fucked up was the second he was exiled. From my life. My body. My thoughts. My schedule. All things Roulette.

There was no in between with me. There was no straddling the fence. There were no second chances. Once the line was crossed, the guards went up and on the side you chose was where one was to remain.

Instead of continuing the conversation, I chose to retreat. Things that Israel stirred inside of me, no man had. The things I considered and felt in his presence were terrifying. So instead of digging myself deeper in the hole he’d dug, I fled.

“Eighty-eight days, seventeen hours, and–” he paused, “Twelve minutes.”

I continued, slowly losing my tact.

“And, I can’t wait another fucking second,” he confessed.

His voice was closer. His scent was closer. I could feel the heat from his body against mine. My back slammed against the wall and my eyes closed involuntarily. His breath brushed against my lips. He was so close. We were so close.

“I’m complicated,” he explained, “I’m a complicated man, Princess. You’re no stranger to complicated men. You’re a rather complicated woman yourself. And, maybe that’s why I’m invested.”

“Maybe that’s why each time I lay my head on the pillow you’re behind my eyelids. Maybe that’s why every time I stick my dick in a woman that isn’t you, it softens. Maybe that’s why I have suffered internally and externally for eighty-eight days.”

“Maybe that’s why committing to Ramadan with my family this year felt easier and less consuming. I’d already sacrificed my most treasured meal for ninety days. I was already fasting. I was already practicing discipline and selflessness to make sure you healed properly before I confiscated every precious part of you that Allah made so perfectly.”

Muslim . The new fact about Israel was telling.

“You frustrate me, Princess. In the best ways. I’m tired of being frustrated with you. My dick is hard and my mouth is watering at the thought of you. Before I leave this club, Roulette, we’ll both feel better and you will no longer have a reason to be upset with me. Cause, like I said–” he paused briefly, “My heart can’t take that.”

“Isr–”

“That was the worst eighty-eight days of my fucking life,” he breathed out as his fingers went around my neck.

With his tongue, he parted my lips. My nipples hardened against my shirt. The pain they caused subsided as Israel pressed his chest against mine.

Self-control was a thing of the past as my hands rested against the sides of his face. Like lace weaved together, our tongues found a pattern that deepened our connection. Breathlessly, I tasted liquor on his tongue, desperately trying to extract as much as I possibly could so that I could blame my intoxication on something other than his presence.

Get it together, Roulette .

I pulled back, attempting to catch my breath. Not only was I in my place of business, but I was in the hallway. It didn’t matter that it was the private hallway that was reserved for staff and dancers. Israel had absolutely no business on this side of operations, but here he was, lifting my skirt with his right hand.

“Israel–” I whispered against his lips.

“Yes, Princess?”

“How much did you miss me?”

“Too m–”

“Shhh.”

I pressed my index finger against his lips.

“Show me,” I demanded, taking him by the hand and pulling him toward my office.

He refused, remaining grounded. I turned to find him shaking his head, silently. He was onto me. He was on me. And, in a split second, he was underneath me with my ass against the wall, hoisted in the air.

“Israaaaaaeeeeeel–”

Inside me is where he ended, pushing past my soaking barrier with his tool.

“Did you miss us, Princess?”

His first stroke was paralyzing. I shifted my body weight onto Israel. He accepted every pound of my frame without complaint.

The second stroke was revitalizing. I slid my arms across his shoulders and brought him closer to me to reduce the intensity.

The third and forth were personal. Pivotal. And, punishing.

“Ahhhhh— fuck.”

“Answer me,” he demanded as he hit me with the next two.

He was extracting me of my honey. It lubricated his wand, making the most consuming piece of music I’d ever composed. It was such a beautiful tune.

My silence agitated Israel. He pulled his shoulders back and forced my spine against the wall. His hand rounded my neck again. His strokes deepened. His orbs penetrated my skin, undressing me without effort.

“Answer my fucking question, Princess.”

“Yessss. Yesss!” I gushed, feeling everything around me. Inside of me. Behind me. Underneath me. My sensitivity had peaked and so had my pleasure. I was cumming.

“That’s it. That’s it, love. Show me how much.”

“Uhhhh— Israel. Uhhhh.”

“Um hmm.”

My brows tried meeting in the center of my forehead. My pussy contracted against him, encouraging his dismantling. From the contortion of his face, I knew it was near.

As he grew closer to his peak, I descended. I regained my mobility, resulting in full range of motion in my limps. The friction my back and the wall behind me provided gave me the leverage I desired. I lifted up and down, slowly, riding Israel from my hoisted position.

Yes. I’d missed him .

My pussy had too.

We’d both shown our gratitude. It was time to end his visit at our amusement park, but not before giving him lifetime access. As long as he was in good standing, he was welcomed.

“Fuck.”

One .

I began to count the squats, prepared to end the count when he came.

Two .

“Shi– shit.”

Three .

I found those orbs, demanding their undivided attention.

Four .

“Israel–”

Five .

“Prince– fuck.”

His eyelids lowered as he chased the high he was after.

“Eyes on me.”

His eyes widened as he tried to follow orders. It was becoming increasingly hard.

Six .

“And listen to me.”

Seven.

“By the time I pack my bag and head–”

Eight.

“Out of the door. I expect an obscene amount of money–”

Nine.

“To reach my account.”

Ten.

“This is your third time crossing that border without paying your toll.”

Eleven.

“You want to keep your account in good standing, right.”

“Fuc–”

Twelve.

“Right?”

“Yes.”

Thirteen.

“And not upset me,” I moaned.

I could eat, sleep, and wake up with him inside of me and still wouldn’t have enough of him. His dick was good. So was he.

“Yes. Whatever you want, Princess.”

Fourteen.

“I want you to cum.”

Fifteen.

His knees buckled. His head fell between my shoulder and neck. There wasn’t another stroke left in him. He came, blessing my garden with his organic fertilizer. I squeezed my pussy muscles to clear out his hose. He shuddered against me.

“Roulette,” he groaned.

I reached below and removed his dripping wet dick from my canal. He pushed it back inside, instantly.

“That’s not my name, Israel.”

“Then what is it?” Exhausted, he chuckled.

“You tell me. Tell me what it is,” I requested, resting my arms on his shoulders.

He pressed his lips against mine, pecking slowly before pulling back.

“Pri–”

“Mada— Oh– I uh,” Kiara’s voice echoed down the hallway, feeling like nails on a chalkboard.

Israel lowered my feet to the floor as he removed himself from my wetness. Suddenly, ending his visit at my amusement park wasn’t a priority. The spectator just a few feet away was the perfect excuse for another ride on the rollercoaster. But, I had business to handle. And, dick would only put me further behind schedule than I wanted or needed to be.

“Kiara,” I acknowledged her as my skirt slid down my legs. “It’s fine.”

“Kiara?” Israel asked with a raised brow.

He stuffed his dick back into his pants and tried composing himself. My secretion lined the waist of his slacks. He’d need to change. So would I. And possibly add panties to my wardrobe, because I would be seeping at the pussy until it was done slobbering over him and his semen had successfully exited my womb.

“Israel,” he introduced himself, extending his hand for her to shake.

Hesitantly, she accepted. “Nice to meet you. I’ve heard great things about you.”

“Unfortunately, I can’t say the same,” Israel admitted, stabbing her in her gut.

Taken aback, she remained silent. I couldn’t suppress the smile on my face.

Clocked .

“Chino has appointed me the Godfather of your–” he paused, waiting for her to confirm the gender.

“Daughter.”

“Your daughter. Right. Though we’ve talked, the gender of the child has not come up in conversation.”

“Because my plan was to wait until birth, but I couldn’t help myself.”

“Understood.”

She nodded, regaining her composure.

“Well, this won’t be our last encounter. Hopefully it’s under better circumstances next time,” he explained, turning back to face me briefly. “I will be in attendance at the shower. I’ll get the details from Chino. Stay well. Take care of yourself.”

“I will. Thank you.”

With a nod, he turned to leave. He walked past me with his bottom lip tucked in his mouth. A mere two feet away, he stopped in his tracks.

“Princess,” he called out.

“Yes?”

“Obscene amount.”

“Yes.”

“Twenty minutes.”

“Noted.”

“Until next time.”

“I look forward to it,” I replied as my lips curled upward at the thought of him inside of me.

He vanished, leaving Kiara and I alone in the hallway. I was a mess between the legs and needed to clean up before I went home for a shower and change of clothes. I started in Kiara’s direction and stopped right before I reached her.

“Try to fuck that one if you want to, community pussy. I will forget my morals and the fact that I don’t give a fuck just to send you back up there to the Nigga that made you.”

I left her with her thoughts as I rounded the corner that led to my office. If she was even a decently wise girl, she’d listen to my words and not take them lightly. I meant each one of them.