Her Savior

By Vera Roberts

I need to get out of the hood.

Like pronto.

Like expeditiously.

Interning at a law firm where there are nothing but white folks and very few black faces may not be my ticket to go. I don’t want to get trapped somewhere between a Pumpkin Spice Latte convention and the Sunken Place.

Yet, when I do cross paths with him, well, it’s game over.

Every girl has that line they will not cross. Savior Ellison was that line.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Vera Roberts
• Release date: Dec 16, 2017
• ISBN: 9781370060504

Vera Roberts

Vera is the bestselling author of the number one D'amato Brothers series, the Scott & Mariana serial, and the Breakaway series.She loves chocolate, has a Netflix addiction, and seeing the Maury show in person is currently on her bucket list. She's also a member of both the BeyHive and RihNavy.Vera currently resides in Los Angeles with her husband, Maks, son Bear, and cat Sushi.

Book preview

Her Savior

by

Vera Roberts

Copyright

For JESBM

Smashwords Edition

© 2017 Vera Roberts, All Rights Reserved

This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This e-book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient.

This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination, or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales, is entirely coincidental.

Other Titles by Vera Roberts

The Breakaway Series:

Breakaway

Game Misconduct

Face-Off

Power Play

Scoring Chance

The D’Amato Brothers Series:

The Nanny

To Love and Obey (BDSM)

Where I Wanna Be

All I’ve Ever Wanted

Love

Nothing Even Matters

One More chance

The Feeling Some Type of Way Series:

Feeling Some Type of Way

Bad and Bougie

The D’Amato Brothers/S&M Crossover (BDSM):

Anticipation

Yes, Master

I Need You

The Jackson and Liane Series:

Daddy’s Angel

Fire We Make

When Love Calls

The Scott & Mariana Serial (BDSM):

S&M

S&M II

Discipline

S&M III, Vol. I

S&M III, Vol. II

S&M IV, Part 1

The Ex-Factor

Stronger Than Pride

The State of Affairs Series:

State of affairs

Superpower

Standalone Novels:

Feeling Some Type of Way

I Knew You Were Trouble

Wait for Love

Soul Infinity Crew (under Maya Brooklyn)

Short stories:

Blow by Blow: Diary of a Call Girl #1

Blow by Blow: Diary of a Call Girl #2

Dear Diary

Gettin' It

H.E.R.

Hot Like Fire (Sweet and Clean Romance)

The Train Ride (Free on Smashwords.com)

The Erotic Intoxication, Vol. I: Bad Girls

The Painter

Til Tomorrow

What About Us?

Facebook Page:

www.facebook.com/ms.vera.roberts

Blog:

www.veraroberts.com

eroticamistress.tumblr.com

Blurb

I need to get out of the hood.

Like pronto.

Like expeditiously.

Interning at a law firm where there are nothing but white folks and very few black faces may not be my ticket to go. I don’t want to get trapped somewhere between a Pumpkin Spice Latte convention and the Sunken Place.

Yet, when I do cross paths with him, well, it’s game over.

Every girl has that line they will not cross. Savior Ellison was that line.

Table of Contents

One

Two

Three

Four

Five

Six

Seven

Eight

Nine

Simply Complicated Snippet

Her Ocean Snippet

I’m hard person to love. But when I do love, I love really hard. – Tupac Shakur.

Book I – Not About That Life

One

Nigga, it is way too early for this bullshit.

It’s 7:45 on a Tuesday morning and Jalen knows I’m not even coherent. Fuck, coherent. Coherent means you actually had some coffee, and you know your bearings.

I’m dead to the world. My head wrap is half-off (like the shit really stays on during the night, any damn way), and my breath smells like broken dreams and faded hope. And this nigga really is blowing up my phone like he on that bullshit.

Boy, what you want?, I text him.

I want you, Keisha.

No, you want pussy.

That too.

Nigga, you know what time it is right now?

It’s always time for pussy.

Nigga…

No girl grows up and hopes she gets involved with the biggest fuckboy known to man. No girl plays the Pick Me game and wonders if she’s gonna be chosen on the game of ‘Which No Good Nigga Is Gonna Waste Your Time?’

Yet, here I am. I’m the lucky…ahem, lucky bitch who is entertaining Jalen Roberts, King of the Fuckboys at what is now 7:50.

I knew he wasn’t shit when I first met him. Any nigga with dreads and a mouth full of ice lets me know he ain’t shit and he’ll never be shit. But my sprung ass was attracted to him. He had the body of Michael B. Jordan, the swag like Diddy, and the face like Future.

My dumb ass was in trouble the moment we locked eyes.

We met at a nightclub and yeah, you already know how the story goes: danced for a bit, chilled for a bit, exchanged numbers. Went on a date, then two, then three. And I’m not ashamed to say I made Jalen wait until got into my panties.

I am ashamed to admit how much of a dick-crazed sex-fiend I became once he did.

A nigga that can lick it and dick it is why women end up on an episode of Snapped. The good girl dating the bad boy troupe. Ladies, that shit never works. Never, ever, EVER.

I told myself that despite Jalen being a dope boy, we could be good together. I can inspire him to become something better. He could give up the dope game and we can be the Bey and Jay of Inglewood.

And I’m still telling myself that wack shit though I know it won’t happen. Jalen is determined to be a drug lord and well, here I am. The dope boy’s main chick. Or a chick. Fuck, am I side piece? I’m not entirely sure what the hell is going on.

What you up to today?

I’m up to school and that’s it, I text back. I know this nigga wants to come over and get some pussy. Why else would be texting my black ass so damn early in the morning?

I got something that’ll wake you up.

I open the next text he sends and of course, it’s the obligatory grey sweatpants pic. Oh, I hate this nigga now.

Jalen can barely spell. Hell, I’m not entirely sure that nigga can read and is channeling his inner Floyd Mayweather. But one thing that nigga is good at is fucking. Lord, he can fuck. He can blow my back out, clear my skin, raise my credit score, and do it all in the same dickdown.

As I sigh and lick my lips at this glorious grey sweatpants display, I can clearly see the outline of that delicious big dick of his. My mouth waters and my punani starts to feel a tingle. Girl, you know you want that dick, I hear my punani screaming at me.

And she’s right. I do want that dick. In my mouth. Behind me. On top of me. But not my booty. No dick in my booty.

Today is an important day and I can’t be dickmatized. I need to go out and score a legitimate internship. When I graduate from community college, this will be my chance to go onto a four-year university. Colleges want to see that students are well-rounded and not into the typical bullshit.

Me telling them I put off an internship of a lifetime because my nigga had to get some pumpum isn’t going to cut it.

Later, I text him back. Now, I went from being semi-coherent to wide motherfucking awake because all I want to suck is that nigga’s big-ass dick. But no. A sista has goals and a lot of them. Dick hasn’t gotten in my way and it never will.

Later, I repeat again. After school, I also add. Hopefully, he’ll get the point.

And hopefully, I won’t think about that dick all damn day.

~*~

After I showered and got ready, I look like a million bucks. My closely-shaved head is shiny with the best Blue Magic hair grease. Of course, I can’t scare the white folks with a bald head so I’m wearing the best yaki wig that has shipped out of India. I’m wearing a nice, bouncy wig channeling my inner-Rihanna.

My pink shirt and navy slacks have my hourglass body looking like whoa. My face is blessed with everything NARS and Fenty, and my full lips are covered with a brownish red that will make niggas drop to their knees and salute a bitch. I got this.

My interview is with a legal firm. I want to become a lawyer, be legitimate, and have my own money. Be a boss bitch and do boss bitch things – have my own place, my own car, and maybe, just maybe not mess