Rescued By the Love of a Real One , livre ebook

Sullivan Group Publishing, LLC - Toy

Découvre YouScribe en t'inscrivant gratuitement

Je m'inscris

Obtenez un accès à la bibliothèque pour le consulter en ligne
En savoir plus

98 pages

English

Vous pourrez modifier la taille du texte de cet ouvrage

Obtenez un accès à la bibliothèque pour le consulter en ligne
En savoir plus

A propos
Informations
Extrait

Sujets

Urban Books

Informations

Publié par	Sullivan Group Publishing, LLC
Date de parution	30 janvier 2019
Nombre de lectures	1
EAN13	9781648540998
Langue	English

Informations légales : prix de location à la page 0,0012€. Cette information est donnée uniquement à titre indicatif conformément à la législation en vigueur.

Extrait

© 2019
Published by Leo Sullivan Presents
www.leolsullivan.com

All rights reserved.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents 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. Unauthorized reproduction, in any manner, is prohibited.
Contents

1. TyKym

2. Michelle

3. Tykym

4. Michelle

5. Ty’Kym

6. Michelle

7. Ty’Kym

8. Michelle

9. Ty’Kym

10. Michelle

11. Ty’Kym

12. Michelle

13. Ty’kym

14. Michelle

15. Ty’Kym

16. Michelle

17. Ty’Kym

18. Michelle

19. Modella

20. Ty’Kym

21. Michelle

22. Mark

23. Kylan

24. Michelle

25. Ty’Kym

26. Kylan

27. Ty’Kym

28. Modella

Get Lit!

Join Our Mailing List!

On Sale Now!

Coming Soon from LSP!
1

TyKym

“N ah, nigga, give me my money,” I barked at this nigga who was gonna make me catch a fucking case.
I hated niggas like this. You know the ones who come to the gambling spot with every dime they own in life. Then, when they start losing and shit, they wanna talk about how they got kids and bills. All that shit should’ve kept their asses away from the spot if they felt that way about it.
“Come on, Ty. Man, you know I’m out here hurting and shit. I was trying to get some money up to get my kids’ layaway out,” Sam’s lying ass said like it was gonna move me.
“Do I look like the fucking complaint division of this motherfucker to you? I don’t care how you do it, but I want my fucking money. I don’t know why you do this shit every damn year. You know damn well you don’t have money, but you always trying your fucked-up luck. Either you give me what you owe me, or we gonna have a damn problem in here tonight,” I told his ass.
“Ty, man, don’t do that nigga like that. You know his situation. Give the man a pass,” my brother, Kylan, said with his overly sensitive ass.
“You’re my brother and all that, so either you gonna give me my money or he is. It doesn’t matter to me one way or the other. Motherfuckers know what it is when they see me with the dice in my hand. I don’t know why everybody wanna act brand new to this shit,” I said, standing straight up and crossing my arms over my chest.
These niggas acting like I was a nigga who really cared about the Christmas spirit and all that other shit. In my eyes, Christmas was just another damn day. I stood there and waited for someone to figure out what the next move was going to be.
See, everybody knows how I give it up. I’m TyKym Hassell better known as TyTy or TC. I stood six feet five inches and a solid two hundred and fifty pounds. I had tattoos everywhere but my face, dick, ass, and feet. If you caught me in a suit, then you saw me at a funeral. Other than that, I wore jeans or sweats, sneaks or boots. Don’t fuck with my brother or my money, and you’ll live to see another day, which brings me back to this stupid shit I’m currently dealing with.
This nigga Sam does this shit every fucking year. He knows damn well he needs to take his ass home and explain to his wife that he doesn't have shit for them bad ass kids for Christmas. Instead, he comes here and loses his money then comes up with a sob story and wants everybody to go easy on his ass. I don’t have one lick of easy in my blood, ya heard. Now, this old ass nigga was standing there looking for a damn miracle like he was in a Tyler Perry movie and shit.
“How much he owe you?” my brother asked.
“Three thousand dollars. What you gonna do ’bout it?” I asked him. He looked like he had some shit to say, but instead, he dug in his pocket to count my money.
“Take this shit, even though you not hurting for shit.” Kylan put the money in my hands.
“You betta do whatever this man says for the rest of ya life, nigga. He damn sure just saved your shit,” I told Sam.
He looked like he was mad as hell with my ass. I didn’t know why, though, because I didn’t tell his ass to gamble his money and damn near his life away. He just walked away not saying shit.
“You see why I don’t give a shit about these motherfuckers out here? You just took your money and paid his debt, but that nigga can’t say thank you. Where the fuck are people’s manners these days?” I asked.
“Your big ass is gonna fuck around and make somebody shoot your ass. You didn’t have to talk to that damn man like that. Keep fucking around. Him and his kids gonna jump your ass,” he told me.
I walked away just in time because my damn phone was ringing. I knew off top who it was. I pulled my phone out and answered it to get this conversation over with.
“Yeah?” I answered.
“Why you didn’t answer my FaceTime? I wanted to show you something,” Modella said.
“Well, being that I’m at the gambling spot, I didn't think you wanted everybody to see ya playing in ya pussy. Then again, you’re a stripper, so you’re used to that type of shit,” I told her.
“How do you know that’s what I wanted?” she said, trying to sound innocent.
I knew just like she did that her ass hadn’t been innocent since she was five years old.
“When have you FaceTimed me with clothes on?” I asked. Just like I expected, her ass got quiet as fuck. “Like I said, I’m at the spot, and I don’t know what time I’m leaving. I’m going home when I leave, though,” I told her.
“Well, I guess there’s no need to keep you on the phone then,” she said, so I ended the call.
“Is there anybody your ass isn’t rude to? How do you know she didn’t have anything else to say?” my brother asked.
“To answer your first question, I’m not rude to you. As for Modella’s ass, she knows the deal. She wants to fuck, and I don’t, so there’s no need for us to keep talking to each other,” I said with a smirk.
“You’re still out here playing games with these females. Don’t you get tired of going home alone at night?” he asked.
Here he goes with the settle down speech. I swear this nigga acts like he’s the oldest. Since he got married and shit, he always slides some shit about me settling down in the conversations. I was used to it. Just like all the other times, I chose not to address it, but then I changed my mind.
“I’m gonna keep it a buck with you. Sometimes I get in the mood to want to know how it feels to lay next to a female for the whole night. Wake up to her cooking breakfast and all that good shit. Then, I know that if that happens with any of the females on the current roster, they’ll lose their damn minds and think that we a real-life couple and shit. I will not be involved in any couple like activities with any of the chicks that let me fuck and dip or send me nudes just because. I’m good on all those chicks. Fucking and dipping, that’s just what I do,” I told him.
“Keep playing, your ass gonna need somebody one day. No, it’s not gonna be me,” Kylan said.
He always talked about how I was gonna be alone. I’d never needed anyone but him, so shit, in my mind, I’m living my best life. Fuck everything else.
“Who else is ready to pay my ass tonight?” I said when I got back over to the craps game.
I played a few more games, collected five thousand more dollars, and Kylan and I headed out. It was late as fuck. I was tired and just ready to go to sleep. We both walked to our cars. He was parked beside me just like always.
“Are you coming to dinner Sunday?” he asked.
“I’ll think about it,” was all I said. His ass laughed because he knew that meant I wasn’t coming.
Kylan was all in with the whole family thing. He had a girl and a son named KJ at home. All I had was my pit bull named Motherfucker. I was cool with his girl and all that other shit. The problem came in when I fucked her sister and her cousin. In my defense, we had a damn threesome, and I thought they were just like best friends or some shit. I mean, I knew that the one girl was her sister, but the cousin is the one I thought was a friend.
Anyway, all the shit went down, and we were at dinner the next day or some shit, and these bitches start talking about cuz this and cuz that. I finally asked were they like blood cousins or fake cousins. When they said blood cousins, I cussed all their asses out. Some niggas might get turned on by fucking the family and all that freaky shit, but not me. It turned into a whole big episode of Love and Hip Hop . You know the whole bitches crying and all that. I told their nasty asses don’t touch my plate, my silverware, my nephew, or my damn brother.
Now, when I go over there, they’re always trying to say hi and shit. I just look at them, call them nasty bitches, and walk away. I try to keep my visits down