Damon Salvatore Shirtless Novels & Stories

Pamela struggled to hide her groan. Before them stood a shirtless DJ. His left hand clung tightly onto the handle of a tool box. He looked as though he was pulled out from the covers of men's magazines. His strong muscled chest, oily with sweat and his well defined chisel Adonis V was a sight to behold. Ashley swallowed. She had never seen him shirtless. She had never seen him this indecently sexy. “Ashley?” DJ called, surprise filled his tone. “DJ, I think -” A feminine voice called from behind Ashley and Pamela.

He tossed the dress onto the faux-fur rug, leaving me shivering in just my pale lace underwear. Damon pulled back, his heavy gaze sweeping down my body. His jaw clenched so tight the muscle twitched violently, his chest heaving as he drank in the sight of my exposed skin illuminated by the amber firelight. "Fuck, you're so beautiful, baby girl..." he growled, a dark, possessive whisper against my ear. He didn't waste a second tearing off his own shirt, revealing his broad, heavily sculpted chest and the faint scars that marked his dangerous past. Before I could process the raw power of his frame, Damon shifted over me, pressing his heavy body down, trapping me between his heat and the soft,

She knew that tone. He walked past her without another word. --- The press room smelled like stale coffee and nervous sweat. Damon stood behind the podium, hands flat on either side, watching the cameras lock onto him. He'd changed into a charcoal suit. No tie. The top button of his shirt undone. He looked like a man who'd been interrupted mid-preparation and decided he didn't care. Someone in the front row coughed. Damon leaned into the microphone. "I'm not doing a prepared statement," he said. "I'm doing this once. Record it if you need to. Take notes. I don't care."

The raw wound of the rejection and the memory of Zayne’s betrayal still felt like a physical ache in my chest. "I—I'm not hungry," I stammered. Just then, my stomach let out a treacherous growl, shattering my lie. A low, genuine chuckle vibrated in Damon's chest. He didn't tease me; he simply walked to the landline and began reciting a list of dishes to the staff. I watched him, my hand resting over my stomach, as he began to shed the formal layers of his wedding attire. First the bowtie, then the blazer. When he unbuttoned his cuffs and rolled back his sleeves, the corded muscle and veins of his forearms were revealed. My eyes widened, catching a glimpse of a small, intricate tattoo etched

I did not. I walked to his cell alone. Damien was standing there shirtless, sweat shining on his massive chest and abs. His orange pants hung low on his hips. The bulge in them was obscene. “Problem, Voss?” I asked, keeping my voice steady. He smirked. “Yeah. Big problem. My cock has been hard for you all week and you keep walking around in that tight uniform like a tease.” I gripped the baton. “Step back. Now.”

I replied while taking down mental notes I too lost my dad or rather he left me, but I don’t go around treating men like shit or chasing all the boys away while acting cold and really aggressive towards them,’ That’s no excuse really, there are better ways to handle a loss and Damon just needs to learn the hard way, maybe losing something valuable will teach him,’ I’ve never been this driven to do something this sinister before,but I’ll do it anyway, cause the heck? I was wearing very light natural makeup today, just to accentuate my look and facial features, my outfit was pretty flattering to as it brought out my hourglass figure,I wore a semi short skirt today, it’s not skimpy inappropriat

Alpha Damon was at the dining table, the breakfast must've been brought in. “Let's have breakfast” he notified me as he took in my look. “Stop trying to stretch it down, the shirt is not elastic” he added after seeing the uncomfortable look on my face. Not only was the shirt short, I was not wearing anything under it. “You look beautiful in my shirt and I love how it exposes your thighs” he admired. I sat down opposite him with my cheeks flushed, has he always been like this? We ate quietly afterward but Alpha Damon’s was on me throughout, he was barely eating. Right as I was done eating, Zania came in.

Maurice said, and Andrea nodded. I smiled, “Wow, that means a lot.” “Honestly, this event could use a little touch of. Andrea, yunno? So it's our pleasure to help.” I laughed. “So…” Andrea's voice dropped to a whisper, “Where are those arrogant yet hot as fuck brothers of yours?” As if on cue, the door opened and Damian strolled in, wearing nothing but Jean shorts, his bare chest glistening with sweats from all the work he's been doing.

Just as I turned toward my bed, my bedroom door opened and there he was again. Damon stood there, wearing only gray sweatpants. He was shirtless. His abs was looked like muscle that has been sulpted. He had scars that ran across his midsection and shoulders. Plus, there was a fresh fresh scratch mark running down his left side. “Sophie,” he said, his voice was rough and it sounded very dangerous. “We need to talk. Now.” He stepped inside and closed the door behind him. I suddenly became very much aware of how little I was wearing. My silk robe had slipped open slightly, revealing the swell of my breasts and the curve of my thighs.

Seeing my convoy, he rushed forward like a madman, waving his arms. "Selena! I was wrong! Please, save me..." I didn't even roll down the window. I gave a cold order to the guard driving. "Drive. Don't let a stray dog block the road." The convoy roared past, leaving the man and his regret choking in our exhaust fumes. I returned to the Winterborn Castle. The moment I walked in, the mouth-watering scent of grilled meat hit me. Damon—the "Tyrant" who slaughtered enemies without blinking—was currently shirtless, displaying his perfectly sculpted muscles. He was wearing nothing but a black apron around his waist.