Darry Curtis Physical Description Novels & Stories

I pulled all my strength to reply. I fell on the floor right in the center of the room. My eyes darted back and forth between the two men who now stood ready to fight. Darren was tall and muscular. His chiseled abs glistened in the dim light. His arms were as thick as tree trunks and his fists were clenched tightly. He wore only a pair of torn tight-fitting shorts, which had already been soaked in sweat and blood. His bare chest rippled with every breath he took.

He was a convicted felon, and a high-school dropout. Damon was exactly six feet tall. He had golden brown skin and long hair, which he usually kept braided in unique designs. Muscles bulged everywhere on his well-defined body. His stomach and chest were hard as a fucking rock. His chest, back, and both of his arms were covered in tattoos; both of his ears were pierced, also. Damon could definitely be described as a ‘pretty’ boy if he didn’t try to look so hard or rough. He had hazel eyes, adorable dimples, and flawless skin.

“Yeah, that’s Logan Carter.” There was a round of Oh's and ahs from the group at the window. I heard my phone buzz on the table with a notification. I closed my laptop down and grabbed my things. A lot of the office stayed at the window watching as I exited. I must admit they were correct; he looked exceptional. He was wearing dark jeans, a crisp white T-shirt and a black leather jacket. He was leaning against the bonnet of a car I didn’t recognise.

Just a man in need of anger management, or so the intake form claimed. The door opened, and there he was. Jesus Christ. Dante stepped in like he owned the building, the air shifting with his presence. He was tall, easily six-three, with broad shoulders that strained the fabric of his tailored black button-down. The sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, revealing forearms corded with muscle and etched with ink... tribal patterns swirling into what looked like a serpent coiling around a dagger.

How could they not? Dimitri was very attractive. As a man over six feet in height, stoutly built, and muscular, he had a commanding presence. A striking face, an exquisite voice, lustrous and thick hair that he had a habit of running his hands through, and dark, intense eyes. With each movement he made, his shoulders flexed, displaying well-defined muscles and sinew. His backside was trim and taut. And his thighs, so long and well-sculpted, looked like the legs of an athlete.

There were so few things that thrilled him anymore. She could scent him even through all the other people milling about. He was the epitome of animal magnetism and the one she was looking for. He stood six feet four inches tall and weighed roughly two hundred forty pounds. His eyes were an intense blue green. His hair was long and a light sandy brown color, brushing around his shoulders. It curled at the ends especially when it was wet. His shoulders were broad and muscular narrowing down to a slender waist and massive thighs. He was in excellent physical condition. She felt the aching of lust begin low in her stomach. Yes, he would suit her needs quite well.

His powerful frame dominated the space. He radiated strength in a simple black shirt stretched across his wide chest and thick arms, a couple of buttons open to reveal a teasing glimpse of firm muscle. His dark pants hugged his solid thighs, and I could already make out the promising outline of the thick cock I had fantasized about for so long. My own thighs pressed together instantly. “Oh my God, Darius, you made it,” Mom exclaimed, rushing to embrace her older brother, who was nearly the same age as my father.

My heart races, pumping blood around my body way too fast. Seth rounds the far corner, storming, barefoot and fierce, moving quicker than the men behind him can keep up with. A black hoodie covers his head and drapes against his torso. The fabric lays open on his chest, exposing his delicious, tan, and shapely midsection. Darryl, and three others from Seth's team, follow him right up to the door of the cage, but only Darryl steps inside with him. Seth yanks off his hoodie, exposing all his flexing muscles, and hands it to Darryl who hangs it off his shoulder. Darryl is in his face, trying to keep him focused as Seth paces and rocks, flexing his fingers at his sides, clenching his hands into

I expected Derek's smug face when the door opened. Instead, he wore a friendly smile, like we were friends and he had not just threatened me over the phone. Twenty-six. Six-foot-five. Built like a linebacker gone to seed in the best way: thick arms, broad chest, dark curly stubble, gay eyes that looked like they could cut glass. The man who'd promised me several times on several occasions that I would belong to him one day. The same man who made every girl in school wet just by looking their way. He leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, wearing nothing but low-slung gray sweatpants and a smirk.

Maybe I could do this. I moved through the party, accepting polite small talk from people who'd probably gossiped about my divorce over brunch. Some were genuinely kind. Others were clearly fishing for drama. I was just starting to actually believe that I might survive the evening when I saw him. Curtis stood near the bar, surrounded by his usual circle of sycophants. He looked good—I hated that I noticed—in a perfectly tailored tuxedo that emphasized his athletic build. Our eyes met across the room.