Tommy X Deo Novels & Stories

"Nope, just girl stuff, Tommy. You should come along next time, though. My father's tailor would love to get his hands on you." Tommy smiled thirty-two perfect teeth, then looked at me. "Oh, I bet he would. Probably give me a glove-like fit, though." Teri laughed. "And if you play your cards right, a handsome discount." Tommy looked down at his drink and spun it in his hand. "I'm not ready to play those cards just yet, Teri. But keep asking." He lifted the gin and drank it down. I looked at Teri, who just kept smiling and winked at me.

I could keep myself safe, but what would I say to Rick if something happened to his son? Tommy was a great guy. He was almost seven feet tall, his dirty blond hair always disheveled, his brown eyes ever cheerful, his smile wide. And he was always ready to come to anybody’s aid. We fought and made peace, trained and ran away to the mountains... So many adventures, so much fun, so much laughter.

He adds with a playful wiggle of his eyebrows. I give him a pointed look as this is an argument I suspect will continue having until the baby is born. “And I told you baby girls are dominant in my grandmother's line, beautiful ones too” I finish with a playful flip of my hair. “Now where are you going?” Tommy arranges the right sleeve of his leather jacket, tugging a little on the silver Zip sewn at the side “I have to meet Diego and Gio in the city for an errand… and no, you can’t come” he adds quickly when I start to smile.

​"Elara! Fear not! Assistance has arrived!" ​I looked up to see Tommy—known to most as the guy with the permanent runny nose—scrambling toward the ditch. Today, however, he looked different. ​He was wearing a leather jacket that was three sizes too big and a pair of dark sunglasses, despite the morning fog. He looked like he was auditioning for a low-budget action movie. ​"Tommy? What are you doing?" I asked. ​"Protecting you from the labor," he said, puffing out his chest.

Agatha is leaving. "Why should I say goodbye?" I stood idly by. Tommy's black hair was uproar, his forehead was sweaty, which caused some strands of hair to stick to her. He wore black jeans, a black t-shirt and wore a small piercing in the corner of his lower lip. A more or less large lightning-shaped tattoo stood out on his neck. Tommy was a bad boy. "Well, you're right." Did you like the song? It was especially for you. I shrugged my shoulders.

I prop my phone on a stack of coasters, hit GO LIVE on the Riverbend Buy-N-Sell F******k group, and blow the camera a kiss. “Evening, y’all. Place your bets and your loads. Clock starts now.” First up is Tommy Lee, diesel mechanic, grease still under his nails. He drops his jeans, lines up, and slides home in one thrust. I’m already wet from the tequila shots and the sheer filth of what I’m doing. He groans like he’s dying, pumps exactly eight times, and unloads so hard I feel it splash my cervix. One. He pulls out, slaps my clit with his sloppy cock, and writes a fresh tally on my thigh with the Sharpie chained to the table. The chat explodes, 73 fire emojis in ten seconds.

He adds with a playful wiggle of his eyebrows. I give him a pointed look as this is an argument I suspect will continue having until the baby is born. “And I told you baby girls are dominant in my grandmother's line, beautiful ones too” I finish with a playful flip of my hair. “Now where are you going?” Tommy arranges the right sleeve of his leather jacket, tugging a little on the silver Zip sewn at the side “I have to meet Diego and Gio in the city for an errand… and no, you can’t come” he adds quickly when I start to smile.

The guy smiles, stepping back to give me space before extending his hand toward me. "I'm Tommy." "Chloe," I say, offering a smile as I take his hand. His grip is gentle. Much gentler than I imagined it would be. "Chloe," he repeats softly, his dark eyes crinkling at the corners. "That's a beautiful name. Come on, let's grab those drinks." He signals the bartender by raising his fingers, ordering two top-shelf cocktails before leading me toward a quieter, empty booth near the edge of the lounge.

But Tommy tried his best to get to know his idol better. "Why are you smiling?" asked Dante, sitting before Tommy shook his head, the smile still lingering on his face. Of course, it wasn't a mockery or disdain but a smile of pride. "I just didn't expect to be chosen to work with you, sir," Tommy replied. "You are our idol__" "We?" interrupted Dante. "Yes, me and my friends in special forces training," Tommy replied, sounding enthusiastic. "Oh yeah, how old are you?" asked Dante again. "Twenty-four, and you're only a year older than me."