Tiffany and Dior: Love in Las Vegas Streets

David Weaver Presents

Tiffany & Dior

Love in Las Vegas Streets

Concept written by Ameerah Cooper

Copyright © 2016 Ameerah Cooper

Published by David Weaver Presents

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be produced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without a written consent from the publisher.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents portrayed in this novel, are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

Love can’t exist without fear. If the thought of losing someone doesn’t scare the shit out of you, then it’s not love.

―Dior Jones

                                  Acknowledgements

         Thank you to all of the authors, readers and supporters. Especially my readers you guys are so loyal and go so hard, again thank you so much for rocking with me. I will continue to deliver quality reads and most importantly show my growth and strength in each novel that i put out! Love yawl!

       david weaver, thank you so much for your words! Your words carry volumes and just your leadership, you inspire me in so many ways. Thank you for protecting me and keeping me grounded in this industry. I am so thankful to be a part of tbrs and david weaver presents, amongst talented writers and entrepreneurs. I couldn’t have it any other way. Loyalty is forever, family is for life. Thank you.

                                     The Synopsis

     Tiffany Nicole is the young, sexy girlfriend of Demetrius “Black” James, and it comes with perks. But despite all that, Tiffany feels like her life has become routine, and she starts to get bored with her strict relationship.

     While Black fulfills her every material desire, she is burning up inside with unrequited lust for a younger, handsome, upcoming hustler, Dior Jones, who happens to be her childhood friend. As their love begins to blossom into an astronomical affair, their feelings grow stronger, and one thing is for certain: Tiffany is a virtual prisoner in Black’s dangerous world.

                         Prologue

                   February 14, 2016

  I was awakening to cold water being splashed on me. My body seemed to be in another place, but my mind was perfectly coherent and I could hear the chaos that was going on around me. With my eyes blindfolded, I had to rely on my hearing to make sense of this madness.

      I sat there quiet, trying to identify the three male voices I heard inside of the room. I could feel someone standing in front of me. Hovering over my body like a shadow. That’s when I felt hot liquid splattering across my hips, traveling down to my legs.

     I was disgusted at the thought of this unknown intruder taking advantage of me as if I was a human stall he felt free to piss on. The strong smell of urine pierced my nostrils, causing me to gag. I tried to move but I couldn't.

      My hands were tied behind my back as I was being supported by the heavy metal chair underneath me. I was slowly beginning to regain my senses when I felt my ribs aching and burning from pain. My legs were also tied to the chair. I could tell from the breeze that was piercing through my skin that the only thing I had on was my lingerie.

     I couldn’t remember anything. I didn’t know where I was or how long I had been down here. My mind was confused and all I could wonder was why haven’t they killed me already? I tried to force my mind to concentrate on what I last remembered before I got in this predicament. I struggled a bit but instantly remembered I was at the Bellagio Hotel, downtown Las Vegas, preparing to walk down the aisle in my designer bridal dress.

     However, my wedding guests never did get the chance to see me in it. I was inside of my dressing room. My thoughts were hazy and all over the place. Nothing was making sense, and I figured I must have been having one of those crazy dreams again. Concentrate, I said to myself as my mind flashed back to me sitting on top of the vanity stool. I tried to remember what had taken place at that moment and I remembered I had my head bent down, praying. I was in the middle of thanking Him for sending Dior into my life.

     He was truly heaven-sent and God must have known I needed an angel because he sent him. I would always tell him after we made love that he was an angel in disguise. He had that type of dick game that would cause you to say almost anything. 

     For years I always prayed for him. The love Dior gave me I had to Thank God for because it was real. Dior loved me without limits and it had been that way since we were kids.

      He was my best friend, my soul mate, and the only man I had ever truly loved. He knew all of my secrets and I knew all of his.  I came beautifully flawed and he accepted all of them. He made me the happiest woman when were together.    

      Unfortunately, we grew apart, or so I thought. Dior got arrested and sent away to jail when we were eighteen years old. I needed him the most and I thought that I would hate him for the rest of my life for leaving me but after playing the cat and mouse game as adults, I gave in, and I fell in love and couldn’t wait to marry him.

    Dior had snuck up on me while I was praying. I didn’t know how he got into the room but he did. I learned when we were kids that he was very unpredictable. I couldn’t lie; I was happy to see him. He was looking so damn sexy in his white Balmain tuxedo and Versace loafers. I didn’t care that it was bad luck for the groom to see the bride before the wedding, because when I looked up, he was standing before me with a devilish grin.

     The chemistry between us is so deep it was penetrating my soul. He took my hand and placed it on his large bulge. It was rock hard. He pushed me aggressively against the wall, messing up my nude matte MAC lipstick. He sucked and playfully kissed on my bottom lip. He wrapped his arms around me as he pulled me closer. He was kissing me romantically without a care in the world. That’s when I felt him sliding his manhood inside of my wet pearl. They say quickies are the best sex and they weren’t lying.

    The best thing about being married was having sex with my husband. The thought of being his wife turned me on more. I really was looking forward to marriage with Dior. I was moaning uncontrollably as I felt my walls throbbing around his manhood. He pulled his dick out and without warning slid it back inside. It felt good inside of me. “I love you,” I whispered into his ear. I knew it would turn him on even more.

      I couldn’t believe we were inside of a church chapel, about to get married in a few minutes, and were fucking like rabbits. Ever since I was six years old, I always dreamed of getting married but never this way.  I wanted my mother and sisters there. I remember a time growing up when weddings were all my mother would talk about. There were only three of us and she knew exactly how she wanted each of our weddings to be. My mother still had so much life to live and it broke my heart knowing at thirty-nine years old her life was stolen from her. At twenty-one years old I was about to walk down the aisle and not be able to share this moment with her or my sisters. Oh how I wished they were here to enjoy this day and meet my future husband. It wasn’t fair.

    Breaking me out of my trance, I felt Dior’s dick expand inside of me, letting me know he was reaching his climax. Beads of sweat covered his forehead and chest. I lifted my legs up, inviting him deeper inside. I was purring and moaning uncontrollably.

     The anticipation of what was about to happen hung heavy in the room. Dior must have heard the same noise that I did when he paused. The next thing I saw was the door busting open.

“You’re an even more beautiful bride when you’re moaning.”

  “Black? What are you doing here? How did you get in here?” I said to Black as I covered myself.

“Congratulations. Too bad you won’t be attending your own wedding,” Black said sarcastically as he signaled for two oversized bodyguards to come into the room. They entered with guns pointed at Dior.  Than two more men came into tossing red rose petals all over the carpeted floor.

“Please, put the gun down…” My words trailed off as he lifted the pistol, aiming it at Dior. Without warning, I jumped in front of him. The bullet pierced through my skin, causing a burning sensation.

       I fell down to the burgundy carpet that was underneath us, holding my chest with my right hand, trying to stop the bleeding. I couldn’t believe this was happening and on our wedding day. That’s when I realized I wasn’t having one of those never-ending dreams; I was shot inside of my dressing room on my wedding day.    

Red. What comes to mind when you think of the color red? Do you picture yourself standing in the mirror applying your favorite red lipstick to your lips? Or could it be that pretty little red dress you’ve been dying to wear on your next date? Or maybe those come-fuck-me-tonight red heels?!   

     What do you think about when you see red?  Do you think of love in the month of February when you think of the color red? Passing by stores selling heart shapes filled with candy? Do you pick it up because it’s red? Or is it because of the chocolates inside?  

    Never take a color for granted, for it is has the power to control your mood. It effects your feelings, your perceptions, your dislikes. For instance, when your man brings you home fresh red roses, what effect does it have on you? Picture yourself standing in the doorway smiling ear to ear. Why are you smiling? Is it the fact that he brought you home roses that make you feel that way, or how pretty the roses look?

Colors can affect how you perceive people too. Color is valuable in making pictures and get their message across. I know you heard the term “A picture is worth a thousand words.” That is true, because 100% of those words reflect the color of that picture, and not the words.

  Let me give you an example. When you meet someone for the first time, they have different sides to them and the minute you cross them they will reveal their true colors. According to its definition, red can be a sign of anger, pain, and at times means danger. When I think of red I see pain and heartbreak. I see the warning signs that I saw but I chose to ignore them.

    Black had a side to him that I never wanted to see. I knew he wouldn't let me walk away from him that easy. Today, I saw his true colors. I saw Black for what he truly was. He was cold and ruthless. He never wanted to see me genuinely happy.

       As I lay on my back, reality was starting to set in as I stared into the eyes of the man who appeared before me: my ex-boyfriend Demetrius “Black” James. His eyes were filled with darkness and cold, I guess the same way mine were when I looked at him that day I told him I was leaving. I knew hearing those words sent chills throughout his body because he didn’t say a word. He didn’t even put up a fight. He just let me leave.

      As I continued to lie there, it felt like the bullet was burning a hole in my chest. I was reminded never to underestimate a man like Black as tears rolled down my cheeks.  “Tiffany, baby, hold on. Don’t fucking die on me,” I heard Dior whisper as he held me in his arms. I tried to let his words sink in and give me strength to fight but the blood continued to flow heavier, and my lungs felt like they were going to collapse.

       I felt my eyelids get heavy and my body slowly drifting away. I was dying and I never wanted to leave my Dior without a wife or leave Mason alone in this world without someone to love or protect him. I closed my eyes as tears stained my cheeks. I could hear Dior begging God not to let me die. 

       He continued to sob and pray. I lifted my hand that was covered in blood to touch him. That’s when everything went black.

                              {1}

In The Beginning

     My name is Tiffany Nicole and I don’t have no sob stories for you. My childhood wasn't the best, but it was good. I never knew what it was like to have a father, but in my eyes my momma was both. I had it all. I was born December 25, 1994 in Las Vegas, Nevada. I grew up on the Southside of Las Vegas. You didn’t know Las Vegas had a hood part? The bad part? As crazy as it sounds, even the best places like Atlanta, California, New York and Miami to name a few have a ghetto and Henderson happens to be one of them. Welcome to Las Vegas, commonly known for its gambling, lavish stores, and nightlife, however seven miles from the city is Henderson
.
Henderson, Nevada is the grimmest place you would ever want to live. It is infested with drugs and violence; nonetheless this is where my story begins..

“Girl, I’m so excited we’re graduating Liberty high school next week!” I said to my best friend Paige as we were walking home.

“ Tiffany, I'm not ready,” Paige confessed.

“Paige, what do you mean you’re not ready? We’re supposed to go to college, remember?” I assured her, reflecting back to the months we'd been planning for this. After graduation we agreed to move out to Cali and get an apartment while we attended UCLA. I was hoping Paige was just bluffing.

  “Fuck that. College ain’t for everybody. I mean at least I finish high school next week. I’m tired of going to school.”

“What about Cali? UCLA has all the sexy thugs, parties, especially in Compton and Englewood. You always wanted to see what it was like living out there.  Your ass tripping. College life will be popping!” I was too busy running my mouth to realize Paige was obviously feeling some type of way. 

“Girl, what's really going on?” I asked her.

   “Seriously, Tiffany. I am tired of living in Henderson. Las Vegas is right across the street. It a lot of opportunities out here too. I can always go to Cali. I mean don’t get me wrong, I still want to move out to Cali, but I'm not sure I'm ready to go when I turn eighteen. Besides, I registered at Las Vegas Community College and Southern University of Nevada a few weeks ago. I got financial aid and it’s two years. I got time.”

“Girl, bye. You know your mother not having it. You have a full scholarship!”

“I don't care what my mother thinks. I earned that scholarship and I have the right to decided where I want to further my education in the fall. Besides, I got a plan.”

“So what is your plan, Paige?”

“I’m moving in with Rasheed. He got lots of money and he’s buying me a Mercedes-Benz after graduation. He is going to take care of me.”

              “You sound like a straight up gold digger.”

“That ain’t true,” Paige said, half-heartedly.

“I know you’ve been messing with Rasheed a little over a few months, but don’t throw your education away to be with some nigga. Get this education and get your own money.” Paige pretended she wasn't listening but I knew she was. I knew I was being hard on her but I wanted the best for her. Paige, on the other hand, had a one-track mind. She was going to do whatever she wanted to do.

“I see you rocking Bantu knots in your hair. What, you going natural?” I said to Paige, trying to change the subject.

“Girl, Rasheed is aggressive is hell when we be fucking and I am tired of him loosening my tracks. I pay good money for my weave.”