Page 1 of Rags to Vegas

BERKLEY SIMMONS

“These are on the house, ladies. Courtesy of the gentleman to the left of you in the black shirt,” the bartender winked his eye at me and my best friend Rachelle after pushing two shots glasses containing Reposado tequila in our direction.

“Oh, damn he’s fine,” Rachelle mumbled as she angled her head so she could look around me.

Fine he was. His skin looked as if the sun had peppered it with a thousand kisses.

High cheekbones gave him a regal appearance.

Naturally long lashes framed cognac-colored eyes, and his long lanky frame gave athlete vibes.

The handsome stranger had thick, silky, jet-black hair that was parted down the middle and styled in two French braids.

A thick diamond encrusted Cuban link chain rested against his white shirt, while an expensive looking time piece adorned his wrist.

Once I was done with my inspection of him, I lifted the shot glass and mouthed, “Thank you.” Before tossing it back.

“Go over there friend,” Rachelle urged, and I whipped my head in her direction so fast, a sharp pain shot through my neck.

“Hell no,” I whispered. “He’s too fine, and I don’t want to look thirsty.”

“Crazy girl, he sent us shots. He showed his interest by doing that.”

With an adamant shake of my head, I shot her theory down. “There are two of us. His interest may be in you. I’m not about to embarrass myself.”

“Baby, if his eyes work, then he sees this rock on my finger.”

“So wh” my mouth abruptly clamped shut when Rachelle’s eyes widened.

“He’s coming over here,” she stated between clenched teeth.

I had been living in Las Vegas, Nevada for seven months after leaving Raleigh, North Carolina for a new start.

After spending three years in an abusive relationship, I couldn’t take it anymore.

When my relationship with Nick began, the plan had originally been for him to pay the bills while I concentrated on school.

My goal was to become a dental hygienist, however, after two semesters, I couldn’t focus on school.

Not when my homelife was toxic as well as mentally and physically draining.

When Rachelle invited me to Las Vegas to live with her, I didn’t hesitate to take her up on the offer.

I had been so focused on working and saving money for my own place that dating had been the last thing on my mind.

The smell of expensive cologne permeated the air around me, and I slowly turned toward the pleasant aroma.

Up close and personal, Mr. Cuban Link chain looked even better, and my yoni contracted making me aware of just how long it had been since I’d been intimate with a man.

“You’re welcome.” He peered down at me with a cocky simper that wet my panties instantly.

I felt like a tongue-tied idiot as I shifted my weight on the barstool. Luckily, Rachelle’s brain was still working. “What’s your name?” she called out loud enough to be heard over the music and chatter of the patrons.

“Malone.”

Finally, I found my voice. “I’m Berkley, and this is Rachelle.”

“Berkley,” he repeated as his gaze poured over me. “I like that. You single, Berkley?”

“Yeah, I am. You?”

I knew there was a chance that all he wanted to do was have sex with me.

All the alcohol that I’d consumed had me not giving a fuck.

It had been way too long since I’d been with a man and even longer than that since I’d been with a man that actually deserved me.

I wasn’t originally from Vegas, nor did I know ten people in the city.

Odds were I’d never even see him again. I’d never gotten drunk and made irresponsible decisions as far as sleeping with strangers, but we only lived once.

“I’m very single.”

Waving the bartender over, I ordered another round of shots for us.

Why the hell not? After that shot, I could have sworn the room was spinning and though I was very inebriated, when Malone asked me if I wanted to accompany him to his suite at the casino across the street, I agreed.

I knew what I was saying, and he assured Rachelle that I was safe with him.

He even gave her his license plate number for extra comfort on her part.

I barely remembered the short walk to the casino. Couldn’t even tell you the order in which I removed my clothing, but I remembered him covering my body with his.

“Damn you smell good,” he mumbled, and his lips brushed my ear as he spoke into it before taking my earlobe into his mouth.

After softly biting my earlobe, he began to gently suck on it.

My lids closed, and I ignored the feeling of being on a Ferris wheel as Malone dragged his mouth down to my neck and began to hungrily suckle my flesh.

His condom covered tip rested at my opening, and as he sucked my neck, I opened my legs wider inviting him in.

Cupping my left breast in his hand, his tongue flickered over my nipple while simultaneously pushing himself into me.

My back arched, as I moaned seductively.

Once he was all the way inside me, a deep rumble pushed from his throat.

He started off slowly at first, but it didn’t take long for Malone to increase the pace of his strokes.

I pulled my lips into my mouth, chest heaving up and down.

Malone was very well endowed. Each time he pushed into me, the friction against my swollen bud sent volts of electricity through my core.

I was on the verge of an orgasm, and I was so anxious for it, that I began to match him thrust for thrust. I sexed him back matching his rhythm and working hard for my release.

Lifting his head, Malone peered into my eyes as he massaged my snug walls. Using his pointer finger, he gently strummed my clit, causing my lids to slowly close. “You like that?” he whispered as he studied my face.

“Yes,” I whimpered.

“Open your eyes and look at me,” Malone commanded gently.

Doing as he requested my lids separated, and as soon as our eyes locked, my peach began to spasm uncontrollably on his dick. My mouth gaped open, but no words came out. The increased moisture and added tightness caused him to release a low groan.

“Malone,” I dug my nails into his back as my body trembled.

Kissing my chin, Malone pulled out of me and flipped me over.

Understanding the assignment, I wasted no time getting on my knees.

As I bit my bottom lip, I put the perfect arch in my back.

Taking Malone’s D in the doggystyle position was a different game, and after a few strokes, I buried my face in the pillow to muffle my cries of pleasure.

He was deep, and I wasn’t so sure sober me would have been able to handle him so well.

Grabbing a fistful of the sheets, I clenched them as I twerked subtly making my ass cheeks dance to the rhythm of his strokes.

“Just like that.” Malone’s raspy voice made me moan. “Take this fuckin’ dick just like that,” he panted.

He removed one hand from the tight grip he had on my waist and used it to smack my left cheek.

Malone hit me so hard that it stung, causing my moans to become louder and deeper.

A second smack to the opposite cheek, made me shriek embarrassingly loud, as I came for a second time.

Essence ran down my thighs as my walls choked Malone’s penis.

By the time he slid out of me, my body was limp.

We were far from done, however. Malone flipped me onto my back, stood up, and pulled me to the edge of the bed.

With my legs hanging over the crooks of his arms, he slid back into me with his bottom lip pinched between his teeth. It was going to be a long night.

Three days later, my kitty was still sore from the six or so hours I spent with Malone.

He came twice, but I lost count of how many orgasms I experienced that night.

I would have loved to have sex with Malone a third time, but when I woke up the next morning feeling an intense urge to throw up, I realized just how drunk I’d gotten.

I’d never been loose, so having a one-night stand with a stranger wasn’t like me at all.

When I heard the shower running and realized he was in the bathroom, I got dressed as fast as I could without vomiting and rushed out of the room.

I was embarrassed by my actions and prayed that I’d never run into him again despite me having the best sex of my life.

I was at the home Rachelle shared with her husband.

He threw some burgers, chicken, steaks, and hot dogs on the grill while Rachelle and I completed the sides.

The three of us were originally from North Carolina.

Rachelle and her husband, Hakeem went to college together and after graduation, he moved to Las Vegas for a job with PlayStation.

They reconnected, started dating, and she eventually moved to be with him.

None of us had family in Las Vegas, so we were like three peas in a pod, even though sometimes, I felt like a third wheel.

Hakeem was very nice, however, and I loved spending time with them.

I just made the effort not to intrude too much.

When the food was ready, we all sat down in the living room to eat, and Hakeem turned the television to a sports channel.

Highlights from a previous game were playing, and I almost choked when I saw a familiar face.

I had to be tripping. I had to be. That was my only thought until I felt Rachelle’s gaze on me.

When I looked over at her, and her eyes were wide as saucers, I knew I wasn’t tripping.

There were two photos on the screen. The guy on the left, was a rookie that was being compared to a retired NBA player when he was in his prime.

That retired player that he was being compared to was Malone.

Or Crenshaw Malone rather. The man I had a one-night stand with used to be in the NBA. Go fuckin’ figure.