Anthony Ramos Shirtless Novels & Stories

"A little paint that never reached the canvas." Rosie's cheeks heated up, a blush coating her features. "I should take a shower." When she spoke, her voice came out in a shaky whisper. Unconsciously, Anthony's eyes roamed over her body before a blush crept onto his cheeks. He diverted his gaze to the ground, shaking his head sheepishly. Anthony let go of the piece of hair. "Of course. You have my number, right? Call me if you need any help with Tamara. She won't be much fun in the morning."

] The livestream’s comments started a direct battle of curses. Aurora walked into the tent. But after going in, she saw Damon who was changing his clothes. Damon was wearing a black short-sleeved shirt. Not a single button was fastened. It was open like that.

Amara watched as Damon smirked and began unbuttoning his shirt. She swallowed hard, her gaze fixed on his well-muscled body, unable to stop herself from staring. After discarding his shirt, he slipped off his shoes, meeting her eyes for a brief moment before flashing a wide smile and walking away. As Alpha Damon stood there, shirtless and confident, a hush fell over the crowd. The Protectors, having completed their display, turned their attention toward him, ready to face the ultimate challenge and claim the prize.

Antonio finished. He immediately took off his T-shirt, pulled down his pants with the belt and showed his manhood openly in front of Rose. A red tinge adorned both of her gaunt cheeks. She felt embarrassed and nervous. Although she had done it before, Antonio's size always made her feel insecure. Especially when stiffened like this, it felt much bigger than before.

But I froze when I saw him. There he was—standing shirtless, mixing ice cream and Pringles like it was a totally normal thing to do. His back was to me, and the sight of his corded muscles flexing with each movement made my stomach flip. This wasn’t the first time I’d stumbled across Aaron shirtless in the three years I’d known Rhoda, but tonight? His shoulders tensed, muscles bunching before he relaxed slightly. He glanced over his shoulder, his dark eyes locking onto mine and sweeping over me.

The moment I meet his eyes, the world seems to stop. He’s standing just a step away, his hands casually tucked into the pockets of his black slacks, the crisp white shirt he’s wearing open at the collar. The waiter’s vest doesn’t diminish his beauty; if anything, it makes him seem even more captivating, like he doesn’t belong in such a mundane uniform.