Taming the Storm (The Storm #3)(53)
Author: Samantha Towle

He frowns. “I don’t ask nicely, Lyla, because I don’t need to. Most women are more than willing to get down on their knees and suck my cock without a fucking word.”

Jesus, that stings.

Hiding the hurt I feel at his callous words, I bite out, “Yeah, well, I’m not most women. You want me to suck your cock, then you learn to ask nicely.”

His eyes narrow dangerously. “Yeah, well, you want me to talk nice to you, then don’t sneak out of my bed before I wake up. You do that, and then maybe I’ll feel like being nice to you.”

And there it is—the reason for his assholery.

Meeting his hard stare, I think I see a flicker of hurt in his eyes.

Did I hurt his feelings by leaving this morning?

I honestly thought it wouldn’t bother him. But, apparently, it does.

I feel a strange tightening across my chest, so I press the heel of my hand on the ache to relieve it. “Tom, I’m sorry if I hurt you by leaving this morning—”

He lets out a harsh laugh. “You didn’t hurt me. No one can hurt me. I’m just pissed off because I wanted to fuck, and you weren’t there. As I made this deal to have sex with only you for the rest of this tour, it wasn’t like I could go get myself some other pussy to bang the hell out of.”

Tears hit the backs of my eyes, but I force them away along with the obscenities I want to throw at him. Irrespective of what he says, I know he’s being an asshole and lashing out because I hurt him.

I ease my voice into a neutral tone and say, “Well, as our agreement stands, we only have each other to screw, and if you want me to suck your cock, then you need to say please.”

Suck on that, asshole!

He’s so used to getting what he wants with women always falling at his feet…or cock as the case might be. Well, if he wants this woman to suck his cock, then he can ask nicely.

If he doesn’t, then I’m done.

His frown deepens, giving him that cute little line between his brows. “You want me to beg you to suck my cock?” The distaste at that idea is clear in his voice. His face tightens as his jaw tics. “I don’t think so. Begging isn’t something I do.”

“Fair enough.” I shrug and turning, I bend down to retrieve my clothes. I make sure to stick my ass up and in his direction, and I let my boobs hang right in his view, just to annoy him further.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

Still bent over, I look up at him. “Getting dressed. Then, I’m leaving this elevator.”

T-shirt in hand, I straighten up.

One, two—

He growls, and then he grabs my arm, yanking me to him. My back slams into his hard chest, his large hand comes around me, spanning my stomach. He pulls me hard against his erection, which is now sticking in my back.

“Fine, Lyla.” His voice is harsh and throaty. “Get down on your knees, and suck my big fucking cock with that hot fucking mouth of yours…please.”

I bite back a smile. Tilting my head back against his chest, I look up into his eyes. “Could do with a little work…but better.” I turn in his arms and shove him against the wall of the elevator.

I can feel his heart pounding beneath my palms. His breathing is ragged.

Keeping my hands pressed against his chest, I reach up on my tiptoes and kiss his lips softly. “I’m sorry I left this morning,” I whisper, keeping my eyes on his.

Tom brings his hands to my head. Sliding his fingers through my hair, he cradles my head, his eyes softening. “Don’t be sorry. Just don’t do it again.”

“I won’t,” I say, giving a gentle nod of my head.

Then, he kisses me fiercely.

After he’s finished kissing the life out of me—teaching me that Tom Carter doesn’t like to be walked out on—I remove his T-shirt and kiss my way along his jaw, to his neck, and then down his chest, peppering kisses downwards until I’m on my knees and level with his cock.

Reaching up, I undo the button on his jeans and pull down the zipper. I shimmy his jeans down over his hips, finding him commando again.

Doesn’t he own a pair of boxer shorts?

I find myself face-to-face with not only his beautiful big cock, but also a tattoo right at the cut of his hips just above his neatly trimmed hair. Somehow, I didn’t see it in the dark during last night’s escapades.

And really, only Tom would have a tattoo that says…

RUB THE LAMP

Snorting out a laugh, I stare up at him, my eyes incredulous. “You had Rub the Lamp tattooed above your cock.”

Shrugging, he eyes me with cocky insouciance. “He’s magic. A few good rubs, and he’ll make a woman’s wishes come true.”

I bark out a laugh. “My God, you are beyond ego.”

Holding my chin, he tilts my head back, so I’m looking at him. His eyes are blazing with something I don’t understand.

“Right now, I am your god. And as for my ego…well, you got four tastes of that last night, and you weren’t complaining then.”

He’s got me there. There’s no arguing with that.

Giving him a suggestive look, I run the tip of my index finger up the length of his steely cock. “So, if I rub your lamp, does that mean I get three wishes?”

“Firecracker, you put those gorgeous lips of yours around my lamp, and you can have as many wishes as you want.”

I smile seductively. “Just the three will do,” I murmur before licking the head of his cock. Opening up, I suck him into my mouth.

“Jesus, Lyla.” His voice is hoarse. “Your mouth feels so fucking good.”

Relaxing my throat muscles, I take more of him into my mouth, and I’m rewarded with a jet of pre-cum hitting the back of my tongue. He tastes like pure man. He’s virile in every way.

I hum with pleasure, letting the sound vibrate through him, before I start to move my mouth.

And when I do, he lets out a sound of absolute male satisfaction.

Hand palming the back of my head, he starts fucking my mouth, uttering, “Yeah. That’s it, baby. Suck me hard. Jack me off with your mouth.”

So, I do as he asks.

After I’m finished giving Tom his blow-job apology—my mind still echoing with his ragged, heated praise of how good I am, how amazing my mouth feels sucking him, how beautiful I am—he gets down on his knees and gives me a lot more than the three wishes I earned in that camera-free elevator.

One Week Later—A Festival, Lexington

Another week has passed, and throughout the week, true to his word, Tom has carved out time to take me to stores, so I could buy new T-shirts. Shopping with him has been surprisingly fun. And I’m starting to build quite the tour T-shirt collection.