Bradley Steven Perry Shirtless Novels & Stories

Levon told his friend. "True, True, but you're the bigger jerk, come on Dylon, time to go down the creek." He pulled his shirt from his head and turned to find Bickerman, Carl, and Freddy walking towards them all shirtless. Louis got up and pulled his shirt off his head and Danny without any thought did the same but a loud gasp soon followed once he had taken his shirt off which made the boy conscious of his body. "Fuck!" Freddy gawked, moving closer to the boy.

I’m not kidding. Then I zoomed in on another picture and paused. His shirt looked… wrong? Like, off. I looked up and— My brain short-circuited. He was shirtless. Standing there in front of everyone, abs glistening like they’d been painted on, tattoos crawling across his chest and arm — a massive bird spreading its wings like it could fly off his skin. I forgot to breathe. And then people started screaming. Phones came up, girls pushed forward, and I was right there with them.

"Now it's your turn. Take your shirt and jeans off. You can leave your underwear on, however." Sure thing," replied Steve as he looked at Gwen and saw her and her sisters smiling. He quickly pulled his shirt over his head and tossed it aside. Next he turned his back to the Anderson family and began to lower his jeans. Unknown to anyone, Steve had hooked his thumbs into his underwear as well and lowered them with his jeans for a short distance. "Actually, I went commando today and don't have any underwear on. I hope that doesn't make any difference, Amber," stated Steve with a straight face as his butt slowly came into view.

My pulse is already climbing. I slip out of my coat and leave it on the side table. Beneath it, I am wearing a tailored silver dress that ends midway along my thighs and nothing else. No jewelry. No perfume. Nothing between my skin and the authority I walked in carrying. Settling into the chair, I cross one leg over the other. The side door opens. He steps through without a stitch of clothing except for the narrow black collar around his throat. Percy Hunter. Six foot two, broad through the shoulders without carrying unnecessary bulk. His brown hair brushes the tops of his ears, slightly disordered as though someone had run their fingers through it. A faint scar cuts through one eyebrow, giv

Why are they both shirtless in the pool house? “Arri? Are you listening?” Katie asks and I suddenly remember we had been on the phone. “I am distracted right now. Gabriel and Rhett are both shirtless in the pool house. I’m going to see if I can see what is going on and I’ll tell you about it later,” I say, before disconnecting my call. I watch as my brother unfastens and removes his skin tight jeans and his erect cock springs free. He appears to have some sort of ring around it. He has weird things going on. Wearing a collar lately is weird enough, but whatever strange things he does are his thing.

He doesn’t need the ego boost, and honestly, I put him in the brother category in my brain. But right now, looking at Jonny Weaver shirtless, I’m speechless. My throat is the Sahara desert, my heart is beating like I ran ten kilometers, and let’s not talk about what’s going on downstairs and leave it that Jonny Weaver shirtless is a turn-on. This is wrong on many levels. First and foremost, I have a mate somewhere in Bloodmoon. ‘Get your head out of your ass and take a deep breath.’ Sara instructed.

I lightly smacked his bare chest. After we got married, I found out about his shirtless habit in the house. He also preferred to wear training pants, sometimes only boxer briefs. The kids often protested seeing their daddy wandering around the house shirtless and asked me to buy clothes for him. All I have to do is laugh and nod to make them stop protesting. “This kind of pervert you still like.” Alpha Rey kissed my lips and gave them a soft lick. I groaned in annoyance as he released his intoxicating kiss.

When we step back into the open area, the cold air hits my skin again, and I can hear the sound of skates cutting across the ice. As we approach the others, Shantel takes a sharp breath. “Wow…” he mutters under his breath, but loud enough for me to hear. I glance at him from the corner of my eye, and yeah… his mouth is slightly open, his eyes fixed directly on Treyvon like he just saw something life changing. I follow his gaze for a second. Treyvon is still shirtless, his jersey hanging off his shoulders, his chest rising and falling steadily. His abs are on full display, defined enough to make it obvious he hasn’t been slacking all these years.

Contrary to what I’d expected, his touch wasn’t cold—it was scorching, and it burned through my skin and muscles until I felt its warmth in the pit of my stomach. I swallowed hard. Stupid hormones. “What? We’re already late, and they’re closing soon.” “You can’t go out like that.” The tiniest hint of disapproval etched into the corners of his mouth. “Like what?” I asked, confused. I wore jeans and a T-shirt, nothing scandalous. Peter inclined his head toward my chest. I glanced down and let out a horrified yelp. Because my shirt? White. Wet. Transparent. Not even a little transparent, like you could kind of see my bra outline if you looked hard enough. This was full-on see-through. Red lace

We stay there goofing for a while before Helena goes silent. "What?" I asked and looked back, following her eyes to see what had commanded her attention. And I cursed. Of course, he'd pull something like this. It's Nate, shirtless and in shorts. Those kinds that leave nothing to the imagination. Really? He had to do that right now?