Cameron Monaghan Shirtless Novels & Stories

Strong hands shot out and grabbed my waist, keeping me from falling, and Cassian raised an eyebrow at me when he saw the shirt in my hand. I gave him a sheepish smile and stepped backwards and — HOLY SHIT! How had I not noticed this before?! The man was shirtless! And not just shirtless. He was sweaty and breathing deeply. His hair was slicked away from his face, the ends curling slightly from the dampness, and his muscles seemed to be bulging more than normal. "Um...hey." My voice sounded hoarse and high-pitched at the same time, and I coughed, my ears hot with embarrassment. "I mean... Hi. Good morning. Um... I didn't see you there. I mean..."

I found my gown crumpled on the couch but when I tried pulling it on— “Ow—!” Nope. Impossible. My hips screamed and my thighs trembled. I would have to wear the shirt. Heat crawled up my neck. The Alpha’s shirt. The Alpha’s scent. On me. I washed my face quickly in the bathroom, brushed my hair with my fingers, then inhaled. Kiera, breathe. Just escape before he sees you— I turned around. And froze. Damon stood at the balcony door, the morning sun behind him, shirtless, sweatpants hanging low on his hips, a cigarette between his fingers.

] 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.

His right hand reached for his shirt buttons and unbuttoned them one by one until he was chest bare. Seeing his skin and unrestrained muscles in the dimly lit corridor stirred up a strange emotion in my stomach, the need to be fulfilled in ways he used to do. I slowly took another puff of the burning cigarette and gestured to his trousers. Never leaving his eye contact, Cameron unbuckled his belt and carelessly tossed it on the floor. The sound of his unbuttoning and unzipping was to follow. I looked on with great satisfaction at the evidence of his growing need under the only piece of clothing he had left.

I am so going to beat him this time ,you Maxwell just pray you didn't come in front of me soon otherwise this is going to be your last day. i am in a extra-large grey men's shirt and it won't take a genius to know whose shirt is this! With white shorts ,he changed my pants too ,I am back to taking deep breaths to control myself no wonder I felt so free to move around but what I dread the most is ,I hold my shirt forward to look inside confirming my doubt , I don't have a bra on... That's it I can't take this shit anymore

Cameron used to have his mom make me wax EVERYTHING by professionals, but I guess those bits didn’t need to be smooth while I was sleeping. Gross fuck. I wish I could have pushed him down the stairs. I would have shaved his hairy dick and balls while he was in a coma and left him feeling all scratchy when it started coming back. There were sweat suits and t-shirts in the dresser drawer, along with different sizes of men’s underwear. I decided to just wear a pair of boxers like shorts and a sweatshirt since I didn’t have a bra and underwear. I have a feeling very few residents of this strange strip club would care about my indecently dressed body anyway. Cameron’s mom would go on a rant about

Jackson slips out of his jacket and then pull his shirt loose. Monica freezes and then whirls in place, giving him her back as though he needs the privacy to disrobe. Jackson unbuttons the shirt and tosses it over Monica's shoulder, signalling that she need only look back if she would like to see him shirtless. She gasps, but he has already got his belt off and it gets the same treatment . . . right over her shoulder. She glares back at him. “What are you doing?” she snaps. As Jackson expected, her eyes instinctually traced down over his bare chest. Fire sparks between them, her lips parting in a silent pant. “Changing,” Jackson answers casually. Jackson toes off his shoes and undo his slack

He gives her a dap and a bro-hug. "It just keeps getting weirder and weirder." I think. He's shirtless, in nothing but grey camo knickers, the white waistband of his underwear peeking through to say hello. Amanda doesn't even flinch, she returns the hug as if she hugs sweaty boys for a living. Then finally, it's my turn.

Receiving threats, or promises all day isn’t my favorite thing to do. The man I came here to kill looks like a model straight out of a magazine. You know, one of those motorcycle ones with the shirtless guy on the front? The one where the model sits with their legs on both sides of the motorcycle, their legs wide and muscular, their hands tatted and tightly gripping the handle as he stares the camera straight in the eye? Making it look like he’s staring through your soul and leaving you hot and bothered? I hate how my breath hitches at the sight of him. Shane is oozing with sex appeal, he looks like someone picked out his wardrobe for him. He’s chosen a black dress shirt that isn’t buttoned.

Samaira and Monique both looked aghast as he lifted the piece of sheer white flimsy fabric in his hand “Jeff, I’m sorry but I don’t do shoots that are topless or ask for such exposures,” Samaira stood up abruptly, she had no expressions on her face but her nostrils flared and her lips were pursed “Samaira we have no choice,” “Like hell you have no choice,” it was Monique’s turn