Novel & Cerita Chase Hudson Shirtless

Chloe had been working in the mansion for who knows how long, why in the world would she agree to drug a billionaire because Hunter asked her to do it? Light bulb! A thought hit him. He smiled and then began removing his tie and shirt. He pulled off the t-shirt which he wore underneath his shirt and then opened his belt. He went over to the wardrobe to find something he could work out in. Shorts and a t-shirt maybe? But that would look so unprofessional.

I don't know when I'm going to see them again. I'm actually not in the mood to dress up so I just make a quick bun on my head and wear my mom jeans and a plain black shirt. When I see the shirt Hudson gave me last week to sleep with I have another breakdown. It's plain black and one of the rare plain colored shirts he has.

"You will not. I’m driving. You can carry the cool box." "Fine." I hang up before either of us can make it weirder than it is. Saturday at eleven on the dot, Chase is at the door in a navy T-shirt and dark Bermuda shorts that fit him like a glove. I shouldn’t be noticing how muscled his legs are. Or how good the shorts make his ass look. I pretend not to, but I do. He’s also wearing sunglasses that make him look relaxed and incredibly hot. I’m acting like a damn teenager and need to get my libido under control.

My throat closes up, making it hard for me to breathe. He…wouldn’t have fallen so low, right? I barely get a moment to process that horrifying thought before I feel something shift in the air. I blink, and Tristin is suddenly too close—too near, his cologne wrapping around me like a vice grip. I look up, only to see his hands at the collar of his shirt, unbuttoning it slowly. I blink, watching as he opens the last button and pushes the shirt off his shoulders with ease. My breath hitches in my throat.

“Shit! Ah damn it! I forgot about that trick. I guess I rushed to get you home and didn’t think about my clothes… For once… Damn it, that was one of my favorite shirts. And those pants were limited edition too. Oh! My bracelet! I had that thing for at least a month now! I’m never going to find clothes like that again. Not unless I have them custom made. Maybe I’ll do that. I’ll get my tailor to see if he can recreate that style. I bet he’s going to charge me extra too. I’ll have to bargain with him. First I need to find a picture of me in those clothes. I’m pretty sure I wore that same outfit a few months ago. Maybe it was sooner. Hopefully it was sooner. I don’t want to go digging through t

My dick twitched in my slacks as I tugged at my tie, loosening its grip around my throat. "Please tell me you're not wearing any panties..." She softly moaned into the phone. "Not anymore." "Fuck," I hissed. "What are you wearing?" She asked. "A suit. A very tight suit." "Mmm, send me a picture, Mr. Hudson." I grinned as I pulled my phone back and snapped a picture, then I removed my tie completely and tore open my shirt to take another picture. And because I was feeling feisty, I undid my slacks and pushed them down along with my briefs, just barely giving her a peep of the base of my cock and shaved pubes. I sent them all.

The impact sent shockwaves of pain shooting through my skull, but it was nothing compared to the satisfaction of hearing him grunt in pain as he released his hold on me. I spun around to face my attacker, my breath coming in ragged gasps as I braced myself for another onslaught. But to my surprise, it was Chase Hudson standing before me, his expression twisted in a mixture of pain and frustration. A smirk tugged at the corners of my lips as I took in his disheveled appearance, the rain-soaked tendrils of hair plastered to his forehead as he glared at me with undisguised hostility. I never thought I would see the day when Chase Hudson would stoop to such desperate measures to capture me.

Everything was for her. And then there he was. Cassian stood shirtless, his body a map of power—defined chest, lean muscle, a line of ink that disappeared beneath the waistband of his pants. He held a leash in one hand. The other held a camera. “You’re late,” he said. She wasn’t, but she didn’t argue. She let the coat fall from her shoulders and stepped forward completely naked, the plug glinting under the light. Cassian’s lips twitched.

I sprang from my bed, adrenaline pumping as I prepared to confront the intruder. My stance quickly relaxed, however, and a frown crossed my face when I saw who it was—Hayes Hawthorne, standing in my room shirtless. My breath caught in my throat. Holy. Fucking. Hell. Every inch of his body was sculpted like a Greek god, with sharp lines and rigid definition. A large tattoo sprawled across his upper chest and onto his left shoulder, dark and bold, forming a series of interconnected shapes that were both intricate and slightly thorny.

“ I thought you didn't care.” Silence crept in like a serpent, but Hudson was already on the move. Hours later, Roman arrived. White spotless shirt with a touch of the midday sun. Blazers ditched or probably thrown away in a hurry. His first two buttons are open, revealing part of his chest. With the shirt tucked in neatly, and his pants balanced with a custom made belt that has Big Tech engraved on it, he looks nothing less than my imagination of a Greek demigod. And the way he looked at me suddenly had me damp below.