Page 20 of Her Savior
If all I gotta do is blow and fuck the guy to go a four-year university on his dime, so be it. But now that request just became a bit more expensive for Savior.
If he wants me on his dime, it’s gonna cost white boy awholelotta money. I hope he opens his wallet wide.
~~~~~~
It’s Saturday morning and I have nothing but time and energy on my hands. It’s time to go shopping and spend some money I don’t have.
I head over to the Crenshaw Plaza where I spend money on some Forever 21 clothes and some cute earrings. I treat myself to a bowl of jambalaya and head home. Maybe tonight I can convince Tasha to go out clubbing so I can take my mind off Savior.
It’s damn-near impossible, though. I’ve been thinking about his offer the last couple of nights. What can I possibly ask of a billionaire’s son? I need something tangible. Something that would show him I ain’t the one he’s gonna toy with and forget about when I’m off to college.
I need something that would bring him to his knees.
But what, though? What could possibly make him know this?
I head back home and see another strange vehicle parked in front of my home. It’s a BMW SUV. I’m assuming it must be one of Jalen’s friends stopping by to pick up the damn package in my closet. I certainly hope so because I don’t have time for that shit.
I walk in the front door and drop my packages on the floor.
Savior is here. And he’s freaking having coffee and donuts with Tasha and SoundCloud. Shouldn’t them niggas be at work or something?
“Keisha,” Tasha’s voice is dripping with saccharine and I think she just gave me diabetes. “Look who’s here? And he brought us breakfast!”
“Uh-huh,” my mind immediately goes to what’s in my closet. I need to make sure it’s safely hidden. “I’ll be right back.” I rush to my bedroom and open the closet door. Whew. It’s still there, hidden under a bunch of blankets.
I straighten out my tank top and hope I look halfway presentable. Just as I was about to open the bedroom door, Savior was right there behind it.
“I gave money to Tasha and Junie to have fun today and take a break from work. They seemed very excited about it.” Savior steps into my bedroom as I step back. I walk all the way back to my bed where I sit down on it and Savior follows me.
“Why are you here?” I ask him. Might as well get straight to the point without the bullshit.
“I’m here because I was curious if there was anything I can do to convince you about my offer,” he slowly turns to me, “I want you and I won’t stop until I actually have you.”
“Why me?” I ask. “Why not some other down on her luck, round the way girl here. There’s a dime a dozen here for you to choose.” I pause briefly. “Since you seem to be into that type of thing.”
“That type of thing?” Savior repeats. “What do you think is going on here?”
“Rich white boy sees poor black girl as a personal fuck toy and will give her some money for her services when he’s done,” I stare at him dead in his eyes, “it’s prostitution under the guise of charity.”
“You think I do this all of the time?” Savior chuckles.
I don’t like that he’s laughing. It already tells me I’m dead-ass wrong. I personally don’t like his chuckling because it’s the sexiest fucking thing I’ve ever heard. But mama didn’t raise a punk and I’m not about to back down. “Yes.”
“Do I look like the type of guy who will spend a lot of time here in Inglewood?” He counters. “Look at me. Do I look like I come here all of the time trolling for pussy?”
Savior is dressed down in a sweater and jeans, both which are perfectly tailored to his fit body. He looks and smells wealthy, expensive, and my personal new favorite, just plain masculine. He could get any woman he wanted and according to Google, he just about has.
He’s been linked to Hollywood starlets and other wealthy socialites. He even has a few fan pages on tumblr and Facebook, though I get the feeling he doesn’t care about any of that. “Why me?”
“Ever since I saw you, I can’t get you out of my mind. When we ran into each other, my only thought was to see how you would sound and feel beneath me. And I need to see if this is real or just a fantasy.”
I’m ignoring the sensations created by my body and trying to focus on the task itself. “You do this with all of your interns?”
“No, you’re the lucky one.” He counters.
“Am I really?” I grin.
“Yes,” he states. He was about to continue when the all-too familiar sounds of a siren interrupts his train of thought.
