Chapter Text
The air was wired.
The electricity of the people around him at different types and stages of inebriation was enough to stamp the New Years Eve event as a success so far. Being offered an abundance of liquor and good music was just a consolation prize, tonight.
Vegas had a way of coercing even the the most prim and proper into exploring new things. It was either drugs or sex, or both, or everything in between…
And he was at the height of his discovery.
The blunts his niggas were passing him had him feeling like the beat of the music was matching up with his heartbeat. He couldn’t help but rock to the rhythm, the neck of his own bottle of Hennessy tight in his hand as he bobbed his head. At this point he’d already lost count of how many shots the group of them took so far, but he knew he was fucked up.
This year had been all about work, work, and work. So much so, that when Steelo asked everybody in the group text about heading to Las Vegas for the New Year a couple weeks ago he almost declined the invite. Frank texted some shit back about him becoming too pussy to be irresponsible in 2018. He didn’t like that shit at all. Deep down, he knew there was some truth there… Maybe he had been a little too conservative and protective of his image lately, even for his own tastes. He made it a point to go, canceling everything he had scheduled for the last week of the year determined to have some fun.
There was no other place he’d rather be right now, in the club with his boys, celebrating the end of arguably the best year of his life.
The blunt found its way back to him again and he took another few pulls before sending it back through rotation, a thick cloud of smoke floating from his parted lips into the sky.
His low eyes scanned the section, taking time to admire all the different kinds of women orbiting around him in their short, shiny outfits and heels eyeing him, trying to catch his attention. But only one seemed to stick out, making him full out stare; ironically she was the only one not paying him any mind at all, moving her body to the music.
Her mini dress was iridescent, and every time she moved it shifted through colors under the low lights. Her dark skin looked so smooth, glowing specks of gold even from where he was standing...like a trophy. He couldn’t help but wanna touch, a taste, a something. Maybe if he stared hard enough…
Damn, that ass was fat.
Let’s get it straight, girl, you don’t need a nigga for nothin’, lookin’ better every day, you got that Benjamin Button…
The liquor was flowing. Honestly, she never was the type to get drunk drunk, but you only live once, right? Her hands ended up sat on her thighs, subconsciously sliding up her silhouette as the bass thumped through it.
She thought her friends were absolutely fucking crazy at first. Deciding that after the disappointment that was NYE 2018, they would plan a trip to bring in the next new year all the way across the country. What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas, her best friend sung. She threw her cares to the wind and said fuck it. And she was so, so glad she did. It had been a helluva year.
She and her friends seemed to catch the eye of a few other niggas around in general admission but she was oblivious, laughing as her drunk ass friends hyped her up to keep dancing. She rolled her wide hips in tune to the bass line without breaking a sweat.
And you a boss, so you hate when niggas waste time, you too pretty to be paused on the FaceTime…
When her friends finally warned her that she was being watched at the better half of the night, she waved it off. Normally shit like that would make her nervous. But. She was too drunk to let that stop her from clearly having the time of her life. So far the only niggas that approached her tonight were about games, anyway. A waste of time. She wouldn’t respond to stimulus, deciding not to entertain it and hopefully that would let whoever know that she wasn’t interested.
But this one, was different. Persistent.
She could feel his stare all the way from across the club. So she gave the mystery man a show, bouncing her ass and losing herself in the music.
You see him, issa bum, issa lame, but it’s a difference ‘tween me and what’s his name…
Faintly, she could hear her best friend in her ear like bitch, is that Michael B. Jordan?! Oh cool. Maybe she’d get a photo or something. Apparently she missed something. Her best friend shook her, practically screaming, no, bitch that’s who been staring at you all night!!! It couldn’t be him who was pursuing her, in the club, on New Years’ Eve.
So she took a look.
He looked good. His body… she didn’t expect him to be that built in real life, knowing how Hollyweird worked. But she was wrong, wrong, wrong. His shirt was silk, probably worth more than a couple months rent at her apartment in Miami, and it fit his strong frame just right. The top buttons were undone to show off his chest and thick Cuban link chain. Black jeans, black Timbs. He didn’t look like no other nigga he was there with, on his own wave as far as fashion was concerned and she liked that.
She couldn’t help but notice the half-empty Hennessy bottle in his hand. His head was in a cloud of smoke, eyes low as he danced and laughed with a group of what she could assume was his friends. They were cute too.
It was at that moment they locked eyes. And at that same moment, she felt fate and chance intersect.
She couldn’t believe her luck.
He couldn’t believe his either.
He smirked over at her, leaning over to whisper something to his bodyguard while pointing at her general direction. Her whole crew was bad. He knew his friends would appreciate him lookin’ out.
The guard came and collected her and her three girlfriends, letting them know that Mr. Jordan wants them to come have a good time with him and his crew tonight.
And just like that, mystery girl and her pretty ass clique were heading up to his private table in VIP. He smiled, remembering a time, vaguely, when shit like this wasn’t this easy.
Taking another swig of Hennessy, he watched his prize sway her glittery hips right up to him. To his surprise, she placed her hand on the side of his face, body pressed against him, leaning into his ear as she spoke over the music.
“You been havin’ fun over here watching me all night?”
He leaned back some, chuckling and nodding as her full lips pulled into a shy smile. Just before they separated, his free hand found her waist. He decided he liked her there, close to him so he kept her there. She smelled like nectarines and vanilla and was nice and warm under his touch.
“Mmhm. You been havin’ fun putting on a show for me?” He questioned, moving hair from her face which made her blush.
So he caught when she was performing for him.
His grip on her waist was strong enough to let her know he was perfectly fine with her staying right there all night. At the same time, it was soft and casual enough to make her feel small and dainty in his arms. His other hand palmed her ass and she bit her lip, taken aback by his forwardness but turned on by it as well.
The mix of his cologne and weed was making neon signs flash through her head warning her about what actually happens in Vegas…
But she wasn’t no weak bitch.
She grabbed the bottle in his hand and took a shot. This year was going out with a bang.
“I could show you something else, too.”
Smirking, she turned around and bent over with her ass pressed against firmly into his lap, twerking to the beat.
I know how to go and get a baaaag, don’t I, I know how to make a bitch maaad, don’t I...
He kept his eyes on where they joined together, tightening his hold on her waist as he followed her rhythm. Distantly, he could hear their friends hyping them up but the only thing he could focus on was how fat that ass truly was. How was he so hard already?
After she stood upright, still winding her hips, he took that moment to press his open palm against her lower abdomen to keep her against him.
“I’m tryna see what’s up with you, though.” He whispered into her hair.
He knew she felt that.
“Let’s get out of here...”