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A piece of cake. Each time, I turned him down. Well, this woman did. Especially not Tom, the biggest mut the world has seen. My virginia is closed for business. Virginia is my nickname for my vajayjay. Sonny will freak. Sonny is already well on his way.

Talk to you soon? I wait until the guys are all sitting on the sofa around me before I speak. I take the bottle of beer that Sonny is holding out to me. I pop the cap on my beer. I take a quick drink and then hold the bottle in my lap.

Tipping my head back, I take a bigger drink this time. On tour with us! The man is a fucking legend! Then, he springs to life. We are touring with the best there is! Just think of the stuff he can teach us. Cale grins. He highfives Cale at the same time. They have tons of fun and sleep with plenty of women. I know his rep. This is going to be a disaster. I start chugging back on my beer, quickly emptying it, and I reach for another.

I turn my face to him and try to force a smile.

Samantha Towle - Taming the Storm

His rep. Cale puts his arm around my shoulder, pulling me to his side. Nothing will change. He grins. Give me some credit. It quickly fades. My eyes dip to the floor. I look up, meeting his warm gaze. Tom will probably make groupie night mandatory or something. He starts to laugh. I shove him on the shoulder.

He brings my face toward him. Seriously, what is going to be awesome about touring with the mut of rock, who has hit on me every time I see him? I shake my head, taking in my surroundings. Today is the day we set off on tour.

Beyond amazing. That should keep the boys entertained. The kitchen has a wall-fitted unit with a built-in range and oven, a small refrigerator, and a microwave. I follow Cale down the hall to where Sonny and Van are, and I see the bathroom on the right. Shower, no bath. Two pairs of unamused eyes stare at him. How does he come up with this shit?

I turn, looking at him, and I smile. He smiles back. Van really does have the best smile. His whole face lights up with it. Such a way with words.

What was I saying about his nice smile? How about this? I have the bedroom, and when one of you scores, you can have the room for as long as you need it, but you have to change the sheets. I shrug. Then, I feel my cell vibrate against my butt. I pull it out. Unknown number. I hesitate, worried. Everything has been arranged through Zane or Dina, so I guess it could be him. Decision made, I connect the call as I start walking back through the bus. My voice has gone squeaky.

I clear my throat. Jake knows. My hand starts to sweat around my phone. I quickly make my way off the bus and practically run down the side to the back, putting distance between me and the people loading up the tour buses. I tend to keep who my father is and who my mother was private. Especially my father. Rally Brochstein, owner of Rally Records. The Mighty Storm is one of them. The label that TMS walked away from.

I guess you can see where this is going. My band signing with TMS Records. I start to feel a little sick. I know how you feel about Rally. I feel the same. I take that as a good sign. It actually suits him. Then, he exhales. I know how he works. I also know a little something about wanting to hide your past. Thing is, when you hide stuff, especially in this business, it has a tendency to come out and bite you in the ass.

His reputation in the music business is notorious.

Jake Wethers is one of the few people who has ever gone up against my father and walked away clean. Rally is a shark, and he takes no prisoners. Nothing and no one gets in his way. Just not fast enough for TMS. TMS was the first act to sign with them. Apparently, Jake and Rally had a difficult relationship, which I can understand because my father is not an easy man to get along with. I signed with TMS Records because you care about your acts.

Bye, bye, tour bus. It was nice while it lasted. Have I said how much I hate my father? The guys are going to be gutted. I know Jake is a hard ass, and he hates Rally, possibly as much as I do, but this is hassle he could do without. I told Rally he could go fuck himself.

I could kiss Jake Wethers right now. No one tells me how to run my business. You say your relationship with him is non-existent. Was that his choice or yours? Now, mine. You just concentrate on the tour. But I need you to tell me now if there is anything else I need to know. My mom was the best.

I hear a female voice in the background. Good luck with the tour. Relay that message to the rest of the band. Nothing is going to change your position with TMS Records, no matter what he says or does.

Just make this album and tour score big. Sounds of cheering and loud laughter. All thoughts of my conversation with Jake left behind, my feet carry me quickly back to the bus. His huge size eats up the small space of the bus. His muscular arms are sleeved in tattoos. What is he doing here? I have the sudden urge to walk over there and slap Cale upside the head. Tom looks over his shoulder at me. His intense jade green eyes hit mine, sending an involuntary heat to travel through my body.

His gaze drifts slowly down my body and then climbs back up.

Virginia sparks to life. Oh God. I hate the way my body reacts to Tom Carter. Every single time I see him, my virginia lights up like gasoline on a spark. In fact, my body likes Tom—a lot. Tom is an arrogant, sex-crazed mut, whom I want nothing to do with. Only…Tom just happens to be a hot, arrogant, sex-crazed mut. I really hate that. Unkempt but hot. Lord, help me.

His eyes flicker down to my chest. He looks cute in a hot, sexy way. Hot, sexy cute? What the hell, Lyla? Men are not cute, especially not men like Tom Carter. Men like him are dangerous to women like me. And look at him, just openly staring at my chest. Total pervert. I cross my arms over my girls and lift my chin. His eyes come back to mine, and that smirk is still on his face. Keep it pleasant and business-like. He means that in a figurative sense right? Sonny breaks the silence. I will not lose this game.

What is it? Then, silence hits as the debris from his dirty ear bomb scatters slowly to the floor, my brain desperately trying to come to terms with what I just heard. Tom is staying here? Closing my eyes on a blink, I shake my head, trying to clear out his words.

How awesome is that? Tom is still staring at me. Only this time, his look is curious.

I blink away with my hands on my hips, trying to figure this out in my head. Tom is going to be living here on our bus for the duration of the tour? Then, my eyes land on an oversized gym bag sitting on the kitchen table.

This is going to be a complete disaster. I did think this tour bus was way too nice to be ours.

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I was expecting a total shithole for our first tour bus, not this awesome setup. And say something nice. I do try to say something nice. Really, I do. I quickly think up lots of nice things to say—well, mainly the word yes. I feel like a bitch. I am a bitch. Avoiding the eyes of the guys, I swivel on my heel and follow Tom in his angry path. He just keeps on walking. So, I follow, my gut churning the whole time. This day is really starting off badly. I halt in my stride, nearly tripping in doing so.

His body is tense. He folds his arms over his chest, staring down at me. I try not to look at the straining muscles of his biceps. I look up at his face.

He seems even taller out here. He lets out a sigh and scratches his beard. History would involve something happening between us. My arms fold over my chest, my eyes narrowing. Then, he shakes his head. I have an idea of what he was going to say, and if he did, that would have set off an explosion of epic proportions.

My hands go to my hips. He sighs. He smirks down at me. I was a bitch to him. Hit me with it. Does he have a mental problem? He scratches his cheek and steps up in my space in one swift move. A little startled and a lot fired-up at his nearness, I blink up at him. He brings his head down, his mouth close to my ear. The smell of his clean, crisp aftershave is befuddling my brain along with my bra and panties.

Then, I kick some female sense into myself. Tilting my head back, I let out a condescending laugh. Too far maybe? Like I care. He steps back. I exhale.

I hit on you ages ago. Get the hell over it. Just try to think of me as your new manager, not as the hot guy who hit on you an eon ago.

Oh my God! The guy is an egomaniac! What other reason could there be? This is a real belly-aching laugh. I have to bend over and rest my hands against my thighs just to try to catch my breath. I wipe the tears from my eyes. I place my hands on my hips. Mut actually stands for man slut. Then, he throws his head back and roars out a laugh. And it hits me in all the right places. His eyes, filled with humor, meet mine. He nods his head, grinning. Relaxing, I smile. The shock of electricity I feel at his touch nearly knocks me on my ass.

He feels it, too. I know he does from the slack in his jaw and surprise in his eyes. Then, his eyes flicker to my mouth. I lick my lips, feeling suddenly parched.

I can feel him moving toward me. Or is that me moving toward him? Then, it hits me. I snatch my hand from his. I turn and start walking back to the bus. What the hell was that? Maybe this is what no sex is doing to my body. It goes into a mad frenzy at the first sign of the Y chromosome. I love cartoons.

I collect cartoon T-shirts. I might be in a rock band, but I never said I was cool. I dressed for comfort today. I never expected to see Tom, not that it matters how I dress around him. And Firecracker? I turn around. Pet names are a dealbreaker.

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Because, really, there are no dealbreakers here. Yep, I totally feel played right now, but I have no clue as to what the game is. Henry starts up the engine. The bus rumbles to life beneath my feet as the doors hiss and close behind me. I look over to where Tom is standing, talking with the guys. My stomach twists in two entirely confusing, different knots. His ego is big enough without me contributing to it. Good to know there are some decent men out there. After my chat with Henry, I go to take a shower.

The guys are already on the PlayStation. Tom is on his cell, sitting at the kitchen table and having a quiet conversation. Then, I head to the bedroom and get dressed in my favorite ripped jeans and a Tshirt. I sit at the desk, my now makeshift dressing table, and sans makeup, I fix my hair into a messy bun on the top of my head.

Cale comes in and closes the door behind him. He jumps on the bed and sprawls out flat on his back. I finish tying up my hair and turn in my chair to face him. I twist in my seat and bring my knees up with my feet resting on the edge of the stool. I hug my knees to my chest, resting my chin on them.

The first time he tried it, I turned him down. And has he gotten the message? We talked. I said yes. Aside from being able to take care of myself, Tom is a lot bigger than Cale. He lets out an admiring laugh. I bet that was a massive hit to his ego. He grabs my foot and yanks it, making me laugh. Most women will just lie down and spread their legs for him. This is what I mean. He already saw you as a challenge because you knocked him back the first time, so he tried again.

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It was probably worse than the first. Guys like Tom are not used to rejection. He gave up. Anyway, Tom has got way too many other women running after him to bother himself with little ole me.

He affectionately kisses the top of my head. He chucks my chin. That phone call earlier—it was Jake. He knows that Rally is my dad. Rally called him. He returns my smile.

I follow him through. Cale is a nightmare in the kitchen. He makes more of a mess than imaginable, and he gets in my way. No sign of Tom. Cale sits with the guys. They all shout noises of love for me. Shaking my head, smiling, I hear a door open behind me, and I see a freshly showered Tom emerging from the bathroom, wearing nothing but a towel.

My mouth actually starts to water. Skin still wet, rivulets of water trickle down his tattooed chest. Of course, I knew he had tattoos. Both of his arms are sleeved, but he also has them on his chest and stomach, too. TMS is written in large script on his left pec. And what an amazing pec it is. More script is under his pec, just above that amazing six-pack of his—Yesterday is a memory. Tomorrow may never be.

I feel a flash of emotion from those words—that is, until I reach the top of his towel. My attention is taken again. My eyes dart to his. I was totally checking him out, and he knows that I was checking him out. Crappity crappola. My bad. He wanted you to hear it. Just ignore it.

Damn it! Tom turns with a slim smile on his face. The guys heard me. I straighten my back, steeling myself. He played me. My face flames. Jesus, what are you? I look over my shoulder to see them watching us with rapt attention. Well, Van and Sonny are. Cale just looks curious. I give him a loaded look and then swing my gaze back to Tom. I like tattoos. His eyes harden. His hand goes to the back of his neck. He looks to the ceiling and blows out a breath.

Trust me. My eyes hone in on the huge tattoo there. It has the words, Only The Strong Survive, woven through it. Then, my eyes focus on the text directly below the cross. Tom lost someone important—just like I did. I guess we have something in common after all. It has to be someone in his family for sure. I thought maybe it was his father, but for some reason, my thoughts keep circling back to a child.

Rest in the peace that life could no longer give you. Rally taught me that. I got nothing relevant, only pictures of Tom. A lot were of him with his band members, but there were also a lot of him with women, lots of women.

I started to feel a bit ill while looking at the pictures of his skankhood, so I gave up soon after and went to sleep.

My mind has been on Tom since last night—well, more his tattoo. The mystery is still bugging the hell out of me. Just endless hallways. Resigned to my potential death by a fic- tional serial killer, I carry on down the hall, and I take a left at the end, hoping for some sign of human life.

I clamp a hand over my mouth, stifling a giggle, when I see a couple of people going at it a little farther on.

Lucky bastards. Take it all. You know you love my big fucking cock. The floor drops out from beneath me. Then, he turns his head and— Chad. God, no. I freeze to the spot the instant his eyes meet mine. I watch in abstract horror as the shock of my presence reverberates over his face.

We stay locked in a suspension of time where neither of us does or says anything. Then, it breaks, and Chad kicks into movement. The person turns, and our gazes meet. I stand there, my world shattering around me for the second time in my life.

None of us did. I know why this has broken him. I get that.

Taming the Storm by Yumoyori Wilson

In the past, he relied on coke to get him through bad times. I could never berate him for it because we all have our ways of coping. I had—have mine, and he had his. Tru is his everything. I look him in the eye before I attempt to say anything. Fuck no. The pain is so bad that the person gives himself over to it.

Irrational, desperate, terrible life-altering things. Fear kicks me hard in the gut. I stare hard into his eyes because I need him to hear me right now. She kicks my ass daily. Hear me. I shake my head, not breaking eye con- tact for one second. Staring at him as his body shakes from grief, I wish on everything to take this away for him, to fix this. The day we lost Jonny, it was bad…hor- rendous.

Nothing can ever prepare a person for losing someone that you need above all others. Tru is that person for Jake. Some people have the strength in them to carry on when they lose that one person they love most above all others.

I did. I found my way to carry on. And those are the people who have that despairing, dark look in their eyes that Jake has right now. I lost someone I loved to that darkness. Think of the good. Think of all the amazing fucking things the three of you are gonna do together.

I take a seat on the pew up front. The place is empty. Thank fuck. I lean forward, resting my forearms on my thighs, and clasp my hands together. You need to save her. I scrub my hands over my face. I ask for something, and I give in return, right? You might realize what a bastard I am.

I treat people like shit—mainly wo- men. I use them like inanimate objects made for me to stick my dick in. I have a shit temper. Cross one more off your shitlist. No more fucking random women in inappropriate places, like when I screwed that nurse in the medical supplies closet after I visited with the sick kids. No threesomes or foursomes or orgies. I swear, I will only have sex with a woman if she really means something to me. I break out in a cold sweat at the thought.

I wipe my brow and take a deep breath. I saw it in his eyes. The voice in my ears halts my singing. I tilt my head to the side, looking around the huge microphone perched in front of my face to see through the glass. Have been for the past ten months. All of the important men in my life, bar- ring a few, have let me down—hugely. Boyfriend One cheated on me with the only close female friend I ever had. Boyfriend Two stole money from me. Boyfriend Three was an aspiring singer, whom I found out was only dating me be- cause he knew who my father was.

I over- heard him telling his friends. It was a sucker punch because I hate my father. Boyfriend Four dumped me when I re- fused to have a threesome with him and his best friend. I kid you not. That one was the killer, the final nail in my sex coffin.

After that, I realized that I only ever seem to be attracted to men with issues. Basically, he was the sperm donor who helped create me. So, I stay clear of men. Seriously, the closest I get to a man nowadays is sharing a drink with my best friend, Cale.

In my past, I was always a relationship kind of girl—albeit, an unsuccessful one. Casual sex was something I never could do.

Taking relationships off the menu for me also removed the dessert menu, meaning no more sex for Lyla.Just mops and buckets. Shivani Gupta pinned post 25 Nov And when I say launching, I mean, her long legs wrap around his waist, and her arms link around his neck. Casey - Dominic Slater Brothers 1. I saw it in his eyes.

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Also read my other posts. I absolutely love horse riding. I do like reading comics sternly .