Page 25 of Smoke After Hours

She lit it and took a few puffs of that shit, turning it for me to inhale as well. I didn’t want to take my mouth off her, but I took a few puffs and got back to work, loving the way she gripped my dreads to keep me in place while she smoked.

Whenever I looked up from her thighs, I lost myself in the hazy bliss as the smoke curled lazily in the air. Bentley’s presence was always intoxicating, but her scent of jasmine and lavender, mingling with the earthy aroma of the weed and sex made me sink deeper into a state of relaxation, my tongue melting like butter between her legs.

After my mouth brought her to another orgasm, her eyes sparked with mischief as she met my gaze. We shared another blunt between us, passing it back and forth with practiced ease, each inhale bringing us closer together, binding us in a shared sense of sexual euphoria.

In the moment, lying beside her in bed, I couldn't imagine being anywhere else, with anyone else. She was my sanctuary, my refuge from the chaos of the world outside.

I fucked her again soon after, not giving her ass a chance to come down from her literal and figurative high. She inhaled the lingering smoke with every exhale that my dick demanded from her body, both of us in a haze of love and lust, neither of us ready for the night to end.

And it didn’t.

Not until the morning anyway.

Jade let us stay holed up in that room the entire night, and Messiah and Sadie actually came through and drove the Elevated Express sprinter to the hotel to get the High Hoppers back safely.

Our connection had been years in the making, and before we even left that room, I knew without a shadow of a doubt that no assignment in the world would keep me from Bentley forever. I’d pay my debt and get back to my Benz.

In that order.

nine

HOP STOP #7 - Holy High Hub: A spiritual retreat at The Jesus Joint in partnership with Blunt Minded Joint.

BENTLEY

“Muthafucka,if you don’t get the hell out from back there,” Volley spat, yanking Messiah by the arm as Sadie stumbled after him. “We’re supposed to be in orientation, not fucking against a damn cross statue.”

It took us three days to drive to Las Vegas for our last stop before we headed back to New York to end it in the state where it all started.

The VIP and local High Hoppers were all gathered at The Jesus Joint, home of retreats that practiced spiritual wellness through cannabis. The unique and controversial concept was getting a lot of attention, so I knew we had to make it a stop on our smoke hop.

The Jesus Joint was divided into three sections—meditation, restoration, and reflections. The staff all wore green T-shirts that statedWe’re Closer to God When We’re High.

“Bentley, get yo’ man,” Sadie stated, straightening her disheveled shirt. “He’s ruining all of our fun.”

I rolled my eyes. “Sadie, you and Messiah shouldn’t be fucking against the cross anyway.”

She frowned. “So Jesus can die on a cross for our sins, but Messiah and I can’t uplift the lord by praying the only way we know how?”

Volley pinched the bridge of his nose, while I asked myself how Volley and I had ever become friends with Sadie and Messiah in the first place.

It took some coaxing, but we eventually caught up with the rest of the High Hoppers after making Sadie and Messiah promise they wouldn’t fuck on every holy statue they came across.

“If it ain’t Bentley and Ballerina,” a voice boasted from behind us after we checked in at the reception desk.

“Damn,” Volley huffed. “Look what the cat dragged in.”

Volley and I approached Malcolm “MJ” Jacobs, a man whom Volley and I had met through his son, Ian. MJ gave me a friendly hug before pulling Volley into one as well.

“Ian told me had he known you were coming to Vegas, he would have met you here.”

Ian was younger than us, but MJ—who was in his forties—had been a teenager when he had him.

“My bad,” Volley stated. “We’ve been so consumed with this smoke hop, we haven’t even had a chance to catch our breath.”

“Didn’t I teach you anything about catching your breath?” MJ asked, amusement in his voice. “Take short inhales and long exhales. And if all else fails, smoke the air like you’re smoking a blunt.”

Volley and I laughed, never prepared for the shit that came out of MJ’s mouth around us. MJ was one of those kinds of men who looked like he stepped out of the Harlem Renaissance era. He always wore a full business suit and bowtie when conducting business, but it was his inviting smile that often had you agreeing to do shit for him before you realized what you were agreeing to.

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