Chandler Riggs Shirtless Novels & Stories

“I love that you wore this.” “Oh do you like it, it was a gift?” I laughed and he joined in as I modeled for him. I came over to him now helping him unbutton his shirt and slowly taking it off. He reached around and unclasped my bra exposing my breasts to the cool breeze. I could feel my nipples pucker with coldness and excitement. I continued to work my way down and Rogan slowly slipped off his shoes allowing me to take off his pants showing the fact he was not wearing any boxers. I looked up at him.

I did not know why he requested for a change of clothes. He returned my phone to me. I tucked the phone in the pocket of my outfit. Suddenly, Chase tore the clothes that was on his body. The clothes on his body fell like useless rags and he stood before me in all his glory. He was only in black briefs. My eyes widened in shock. "Chase, what are you d-doing?" I asked in incredulity. Now I knew why he asked for Mark to bring clothes to him. His actions was crazy.

I walk back into the living room to sit on the couch to wait for him. I get comfortable before pulling a blanket over me and watching the TV where Chandler is talking to his friends about how he can't figure out which sister of Archie's he slept with. After a few minutes, Archie walks out in some black sweatpants and a t-shirt with a picture of the Statue of Liberty on it.

He looked every inch the dominant CEO on crisp white shirt open at the collar, revealing the old bite mark and newer scars. “On time,” Magnus noted with dark approval. “Strip. Now.” Finn’s hands moved automatically. He removed every piece of clothing , folding them neatly on a nearby chair until he stood completely naked except for the collar. The cool air of the penthouse raised goosebumps across his gaunt skin, highlighting how his ribs were already becoming more prominent from days of stress and minimal eating.

Reginald sat down in front of her and his long fingers began to unbutton his sapphire, nimbly working their way down, his shirt lifting to reveal defined muscles, well-proportioned to perfect abs, neither a single bit of flab nor overworked. It wasn't, was it? Undressing in front of a mentally challenged "patient", this guy's not a pervert, is he? Don't take it off. Reginald suddenly stood up, put his hand on the belt around his waist, and with a movement of his fingertips, the belt was pulled off. Heloise's breath hitched. Don't take it off again! As if hearing her inner growl, Reginald actually really didn't take it off again, only carrying the shirt in his hand, turning around and walking

Going down in a blaze of glory or something? He stripped his shirt off and laid it on his bag. He flexed his muscles as he kicked off his shoes. His track pants he left on for now. Menacing threats and intimidation were never as effective among men when naked with their pricks swinging about. Unless you're hung like Kody.

The doors opened to admit Riordan at the top of the dais and time in the room froze. In a dark shirt and dark pants tailored to show off his strong muscular physique, he was breaking everyone’s expectations of him wearing the customary mourning white clothes. He was the only person not wearing a mask, and also the only one without a date so one could say he was mourning in his own way.

His pants were gone, and he stood bare-chested in only boxers as his six-pack was taut and his presence was both magnetic and menacing. “Take off that dress and wiggle your ass until you reach me,” he ordered. “If you don’t do it well, you’ll repeat it.” I exhaled sharply as I pulled the dress away, cool air rushing across my bare skin. I forced a measured strut, catwalking toward him.

Why was he taking off his shirt? The lights were dimmed but she could still see him clearly. He had tossed his shirt aside, taken off his wristwatch and was now busily heading to the door. Click! He jammed it close. " Royalty_ " His side profile was daringly handsome, and so scary, Cinderella gulped and nervously drawled out his name. He turned. His eagle eyes fixated on her like a prey. He was shirtless, draped only in his tiger print trousers and a pair of stained dark handgloves.

Those were storm clouds, brewing with fire. “Are you satisfied?” Chance ignored Jaxon’s sarcastic tone. “Not entirely. Take off your shirt.” Jaxon blinked. “Are you joking?” “Not at all. For all I know, you’re wearing a wire. I want you out of that shirt.” Chance bit the inside of his cheek to keep from bursting into laughter. Jaxon released a loud curse, but slid the buttons loose on his uniform. With it hanging open, exposing the white t-shirt beneath, he spread his arms wide.