Tommyinnit Stories Novels & Stories

He asked before Scar stepped forward to defend Jasmine, "Tommy, I- "Dismiss," Tommy said as Scar's head lowed before she and the rest of the gang left the room leaving Tommy and Jasmine alone, "What do you want to get, Jasmine, speak up," Tommy demanded as Jasmine gulped, "A T-Tattoo," she said as Tommy nodded before pulling her body into his as she gasped, "Where do you want to get it?" He asked caressing her body as her hands clenched onto his t-shirt, "I want w-words just like yours, but d-down my b-back," she stuttered as Tommy grip her onto her waist before burying his face in her neck leaving light kisses causing her eyes to automatically close.

"Why? Are you the president or what? "No. I'm one who commands wealth and respect in all parts of the world. I'm Jayden James Bruno. Got it" Tommy tittered. "Chill bro. I didn't mean any harm. I made a mistake. I had bumped into her and dropped my glass of wine on her outfit. I was just trying to help her clean up, that's all" "Get lost" "What? Jayden shot a death stare. "Get, lost! "Yes. I'm out. Geez, so possessive" Tommy said storming out.

Once we were there, we went straight to the office. Frankie pushed through the doorway, shoulders tight. “Tell me it was false, brother.” I faced him. “Tommy is a rat. He gave them openings, and he kept going even after the hit. You know what that means.” Frankie looked between us. “He grew up with us. He is not some stray off the street.”

Tommy moved through the bleachers with the practiced ease of someone who had done this before and hadn’t let repetition turn it into routine. Then he was at the press table. “Editor-in-chief,” he said. Three words. A weight that had nothing to do with my title. “Tommy.” “Good assembly. Great talk.” “You think so?” “The Rubbermaid tub detail. That’s what makes a story human.” He smiled. Not the charming one. The genuine one — the one that existed beneath the sponsorship deals and the draft projections and the navy suit. Then he leaned closer. “Can I talk to you for a second? Privately. Media follow-up. I have something for the paper.”

Jace and Kelvin were acquaintances through him. “Room for one more?” Tyler asked, voice rough. He dropped his bag, stripped his shirt off—revealing his lean, toned chest—then his jeans. His cock was already rock-hard, thick and veined, curving slightly to the left. Amanda pulled off Kelvin’s dick, gasping. “Tyler—fuck—join us.” He stepped forward, stroked himself slowly. “You’ve been busy, baby.” Marcus grinned—still buried in her ass. “She’s insatiable. Come see.”

Murphy mumbled. “Says the guy who already went long on TechGiant,” Tommy retorted mockingly. *** Tommy had been glued to the stock market around the clock since the day they made the bet. It was his new routine. So far, it was looking good— promising, too, and Tommy had high hopes. Aldwin, on the other hand, wasn't finding it funny; he was losing to Tommy this time. They had agreed on two weeks, and there were just two days left.

When they pulled apart Tommy looked determined. Back at home Tommy wrote the statement. Siya helped him with the words. He posted it online that evening. The message was clear. He had met someone important. He asked for privacy. The internet exploded. Some fans were happy. Others were angry. Lena called to yell. Tommy hung up on her.

Putting his hand on my shoulder he shook his head grinning humourlessly. "Tommy hung himself two days ago. His wife told him that she didn't want him to see his kid anymore... he was a screw-up, always had been, since high school. Now he's dead... Ain't afraid of the Boogey Man... California tree huggers." He laughed out loud. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and hung his head. "I went over there the day of the bust. I left Marcello in the R.M.P. and I went in myself."

Plus, all the groupies on the message board said he had a huge cock. Tommy couldn't have known how bad my celeb crush really was. He couldn't have known about all the sleepless nights I'd spent laying in bed, one hand between my legs as I stared at the bulge in Contendah's pants on my "Dat Krew" poster. Nor could he have known about my second, secret Tumblr account where I spent my time reblogging interracial p**n and messaging that chick from Atlanta who said she'd slept with the Krew before they really got big.

TOMMY . . It’d been a week since that night. And in that one week I had done three things religiously. One—suffer side effects from the omega drug, and suppressants. Two—question my life choices. Three—refresh the internet like a deranged maniac. Sunlight spilled from the ceiling-to-floor windows of my office on my hunched-over figure as I scrolled through tabs—gossip blogs, niche tabloid, fan forum, even secret Alpha dating forum(I don't even know how I ended up there, so don’t ask)