Che Mack Nude Novels & Stories

Eventually I slept off only to be awakened hours later by Mia. “Get up and get ready, babe. It's time for our night out.” I stretched, jumping out of bed. I spent an hour bathing and chosing what to wear. But in the end, I settled for a pair of black skinny jeans and a silky, off-the-shoulder top. It was simple, but it felt like armor. Mia, on the other hand, looked like she was heading to the Met Gala. We stepped out of the apartment into the cool night air, our heels clicking against the pavement as we flagged down a cab.

There is no way he’d miss the giant wet spot if my legs were spread. Mack’s breathing grows heavy as his eyes rake over every inch of me. Last week it had been a mad dash with him only shoving my dress up and burying his face between my thighs. I hadn’t been laid out naked for him. If I wasn’t so turned on, I would feel a bit shy. “The rest,” he growls. His voice is almost unrecognizable. The sound has my nipples growing painfully hard. “Now,” he snaps. “I still don’t know why I can’t go to the gym.” I’m talking nonsense, but I often ramble when I get nervous or unsure of something. I hook my fingers into my panties and pull them down my legs and toss them away.

I’m still sending you some money Chelle rolled onto her back, sighing. Then slowly… she lifted her shirt. Her bra slid off next. She snapped pictures of her perky breasts, then slipped out of the rest of her clothes and arched on her bed—capturing her ass from the angle she knew drove him crazy. This time… no mask. A message blinked almost instantly. Pressure: woah girl you’re making me so hard. and you didn’t cover your face today? what’s up with that

From the very first day I arrived, I devoted myself to helping him manage the pack. We were the model of love in the entire Pack. Our relationship couldn’t possibly crumble over my own doubts. Someone tapped my shoulder, snapping me back to reality. “Florence.” Leah twirled before me in her beautiful dress. “Florence, do you think this looks good on me?” I didn’t know where she had found that dress. The mermaid skirt swept the floor, covered in sparkling crystals. It looked more extravagant than my gown. I stared at my sister and couldn’t help but ask, “Leah, are you seeing someone?”

icon in Hollywood. Blair wasn't just in the bathroom at the stadium where the boy band Boyz Hits Bullets had just performed. She's wearing his jacket — and no, not the one he wore on stage, but the personalized one he wore to a New Year's Eve party with my family almost a month ago. And most obviously, she was wearing the necklace I bought for his graduation. Moreover, His scent wafted strongly from her. My inner wolf began to growl. Something amiss had happened, as if to confirm my suspicion, Lea, My inner wolf roared, 'He has cheated on us, our mate has cheated on us.'

“Philip… save me…” The silence lasted for a whole two seconds before the crowd went wild. Mrs. Xanders sucked in a sharp breath. “Isn’t that Selena? And isn’t the man in bed with her Howard?” Mrs. Lane covered her mouth. “My goodness, isn’t he Mr. Wilson’s childhood friend? Doesn’t Selena post every day in Moms Unite on how to have a successful married life?” The younger neighbors behind them took their phones out. The security guards hurriedly stopped them. “Don’t take any photos! Call the ambulance first!”

Rook stood next to me in a team hoodie with his hair still wet from a shower he took in ninety seconds flat. "I'm Mara Ellis," I said, holding out my hand. She didn't take it. "Tara Singh. League communications. Sit." I sat. Rook sat so close our knees knocked under the table. He didn't move his leg away. Coach Mack paced by the window with his arms crossed. He was older, gray buzz cut, face like a bulldog who lost a fight. "Rousseau," Mack said. "You want to explain why TMZ is camped outside my rink at dawn talking about your nanny punching a kid at school."

My guys are waiting on funds. I read it once. Didn't reply. Closed the screen. But Kane wasn't the type to let go of a cash source without a fight. By afternoon, he'd tracked down the hotel and showed up at the door of my suite with Alicia in tow. He had a gift box in his hands and a smile pasted across his face. Alicia had dialed back the attitude and was wearing the Gucci all-over monogram suit she'd bought with my money the night before — red and green and unmistakably trying, the look of someone who'd always wanted to walk into a designer store and finally got the chance. The contrast between the outfit and the performance of refinement she was attempting was almost too much.

Everyone who fucked at the fucking club did. ‘Rafaele Moretti, the king of the underground.’