Chest Piece For Men Novels & Stories

Just like any other handsome high school teenager, who hits puberty and develops a charm. Dressed in a nice pair of white tees with a big silver coloured Columbia jacket on top, those dark grey baggy jeans and his white sneakers did make a pretty cool outfit. But what grabbed my attention the most was his neck piece, which was a black key hung in a long chain around his neck. With every single inch of his body and face showcasing how strong he was, I could see many girls staring at him already.

Clad in leather biker jackets like the one on Coles back, the signature scorpion ring-like shape on the back in red thread. The scorpion in the shape of a circle, with its tail just reaching its head. A piston and crowbar in the middle forming an "X" in silver thread. Not very detailed but quite unique, being the only one of its kind. Every member has her/his own jacket, although there are of course alterations and personalisation is allowed to certain extent. Mine has royal blue checker flacks at the sleeves, albeit I'm not wearing mine now. Whereas Cole opted for a skull at the right breast plate.

Queenie smiled and ran her fingers over the metal ribbed corset. The corset was made from leather with twelve steel bones in it. There were strings to tighten the accessory at the back of the tiny waist corset. However, the part that London liked was the metal buckles that screamed gothic metal musicians. Her only regret was the lag of floggers or whips to hang at her waist on a belt to complete the look. Already, her mind was supplying her ideas about coordinating a new outfit using this corset and some fishnet stockings she owned.

I look up, and he's smiling. "All of you will get fitted into fighting gear tomorrow. In the meantime, I asked one of the tailors to make something for you. Look in the red box on the second shelf." I smile up at him before walking over to the large red box. Taking off the top, I see a beautiful bronze shield made for a woman's body. When I remove that, there's a black leather skirt that has slits cut into it so I can move freely. It has shorts attached inside, making it more like a skort. I lift it and admire the intricate belt that's attached. There is also a black leather crop top. It's perfect. I know I'll need actual armor, but at least this makes me stand out yet still look like a warr

he said, pulling out a charcoal grey. "That one is—" "Dormeuil Amadeus," he said, without looking at the label. "I can tell by the weight. Good choice for a formal meeting, slightly intimidating without being aggressive." He held it up. "What is this, a forty four chest?" "Forty six," I answered. He held it against himself. The jacket sat correctly at the shoulders and the length was right and I noted this and said nothing about noting it. "This works," he said.

He looked like a giant child with a secret. "We brought armor," he rumbled. "Better than the beetle shell." He tossed the package onto the bed. It landed with a soft thud. I looked at it. Then at them. "I have the standard issue cadet greys. They're fine." "They are cotton and polyester," Barzil said. Leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed. "They offer zero ballistic protection and they restrict range of motion in the shoulder joint. If you fight in them, you will tear them, and then you will bleed."

What dhe needed. Some of the drawers in the tall chest had been knocked free. Polished tools glinted within. A pouch of them had also been set on a piece of black velvet beside the metal table.

I see nothing squirming around in them, so at least he has one plus. I missed the faint jagged scar trailing down his right cheekbone in my first perusal. He's hard, immoveable, and again the word deadly flitters through my overtaxed brain. I've never seen a human with a chest his size or muscles that bulge with every breath he takes. The leather harness runs across his pectoral muscles just below his nipples. Maybe he thinks they make him appear more badass. They're unneeded. If King has a middle name, it's Badass.

I remained on the edge of the mattress as instructed, waiting for whatever happened next. Charles looked at me, not exactly pleased with my non compliance. He’s the type of man who wants every damn word to be followed. He stopped a few feet away, removing his shirt. God, that chest does crazy things to me. It’s easily one of his sexiest features and I’m not even saying it because I’ve had my juice drip on his chest. I sat up straighter. He unbuckled the ends and pulled the leather from the loops of his trousers in one smooth motion. He tossed the belt on the floor. When his fingers went to his trousers, I couldn’t miss the large bulge behind the fabric. I edged forward.

"He can't play in standard shoulder pads. One hit to the ribs and he's done." Dan opened a heavy black aluminum transit case resting on the floor, pulling out a custom-molded piece of dark gray armor. "Carbon-fiber Kevlar composite shell. It's custom-fitted to Chase’s torso measurements. It distributes impact energy laterally across the entire upper frame instead of letting the force focus on the chest wall. It's light, it's bulletproof, and it fits under his jersey."