Damon Salvatore Shirtless Novels & Stories

Drops of water were dripping slowly to his abdomen, then he suddenly disappeared behind that darn towel. I couldn’t help daydreaming about it. I looked back up and saw a wicked smirk on his face, flaming me up. Today, he was wearing all black like always, but this time, he added a black leather jacket to his “Damon Salvatore” look. It made him look like the badass he was, making me think in a different perspective.

At least one last time before this man kills me. She must be so worried. I need to get out of here. But how the hell do I do that? "I see you've decided to waste my time. I was hoping to have a simple day today. Looks like I'll have to get my hands dirty squeezing answers out of you. "Salvatore says as he stands up, and I watch him pull his shirt off. As the cloth slides off his shoulders, my eyes travel over his bare torso, and I gulp for some reason.

They aren't even back in their seats before they start kissing again. Hatred mixed with pain scorches through me and the urge for revenge pushes me to do the most ridiculous thing ever. I look around, searching, and there's a really hot guy smoking by a corner. He's Damon-Salvatore-hot, in a tight black tee that clings to his muscular body. He even has an arm and a neck tat and ear piercing. Oh, he's perfect! I stomp over, pluck the cigarette from his fingers, and blurt, "I'm sorry, but can you hold your breath for a second?"

"Jason's in your office, right? I bet he'd be happy to shift for more than two seconds...unlike a certain someone." Damon's face distorted into one of annoyance again. "He's gone...and even if he was still here, he wouldn't dare to shift in your presence. You're only allowed to see me naked, no one else." Sarah took in his words...one after another. Naked? She was so irritated by his behaviour that she was not even aware of that fact until he boldly announced it. She twisted her head around warily, hoping and praying that it wasn't as she thought. But unfortunately it was just that. His clothes had been ripped from his body during his shift and now he was standing there with nothing on, abso

Damon. He was leaning casually against the wall, his leg crossed at the ankles and his arms folded across his chest. He had on sweat pants low enough to reveal the waistband of his Kelvin Klein underwear and oh my God, he was shirtless. His gaze was fixed on me and I could tell now that they must have been for a while. How long has he been standing there? Watching me.

Just last month, the entire Hale family had both made the cover of Vintage Daily for family of the week. And then—Damon. He stood just behind them, slightly out of the line of focus, as if he didn’t want to be there at all. His hair was a dark chestnut brown, neat but not overdone, with a few rebellious strands that caught the light. He wore a slate shirt with the sleeves rolled once at the wrist, the collar open just enough to reveal the faintest line of his throat. It was too simple an outfit for a boy of his name, but maybe that was what made him stand out.

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.

I muttered, opening the door wider and letting him step in. Damon sighed, standing in the centre of the room and not walking further. He rubbed the stubble on his jaw, his head tilting slightly, and his face blank. I wondered what he was thinking. My gaze wandered from his slicked-back hair to his outfit. Damon was dressed up for the event. He was wearing a fitted black compression shirt, a lightweight leather harness strapped across his chest, holding three throwing knives. Although there was space for more. His black leather pants hugged his frame and accentuated long, strong legs that went on forever. He wore fingerless gloves, worn at the knuckles, and heavy boots that could squash small

“Mr Damon Grey has arrived. He asked if he could have a moment with you before tonight’s event begins.” I hesitated, my stomach tightening. Finally, I nodded. “Show him in.” The girl hurried away. I brushed invisible lint from my satin blouse, straightened my posture, and took a deep breath. When Damon entered, his quiet confidence seemed to fill the atelier. He wore a charcoal three-piece suit with no tie, the open collar revealing a sculpted throat and a chest tattoo. His cologne was darker than Mike’s – cedarwood, leather, and something smoky underneath.

] 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.