Drake Bell Shirtless の小説・ストーリー

Draken was already there. He wasn't wearing his leather armor or the formal court attire bound in gold. He wore a simple black top, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, revealing the corded muscle of his forearms. His posture wasn't rigid. He was standing near the center of the polished stone floor, his head tilted back as he looked up at the frosted glass above. The softer energy radiating from him was jarring. Without the crown and the armor, the suffocating pressure of his Alpha authority had settled into a calm.

Suddenly I see Tate’s car pull in behind us, blocking Drakes in. Drake looks up and smiles at him as Tate hops down. My eyes trailed over him. He only had a tank top on and camouflage pants. He also had tribal tattoos running up his arms and I could just see them across his chest where his tank top exposed his skin. He looked vastly different from when I last saw him, how both of them changed so much over a couple of years astounded me. Tate wastes no time rushing over, a huge grin on his face like all his Christmases came at once.

Faris asked Drake. Drake pulled a long face and lazily zipped his pants. 'What is wrong with displaying my manhood? Isn't it vital in everyone's life and also a very important prospect for finding a mate? If this is not there then how would we be able to make our mates happy?' He thought. “Young master, shirt,” Wyatt shoved the shirt into Drake’s hands. "Aren't you going a little too far with this clothing thing?" Drake howled and threw the shirt on the ground.

He yells at the top of his lungs, but Drake very calmly replies. “Preventing her from going into shock, your majesty.” “Does the manual tell you to be naked for that to work?!” Clearly, he wants to blame anyone but Lance, even after the discussion yesterday. “I'm not naked, your majesty I'm wearing my boxers, and unfortunately there wasn't time for me to get dressed.” Drake is so calm, and I commend him for his courage. But as I'm feeling better, I decide to intercede here, I stand, slowly and address my father.

With my hand still gripping in the scissor, I raised my chin up. “You! I have to get out of this house as soon as possible!” I shouted at him. Drake sighed as he brushed off the spilled milk in his shirt. My eyes grazed down his chest and I unconsciously swallowed the lump in my throat when I saw what the milk did to him. It wet his shirt, and now his hard chest and n*pples can see through the thin and wet shirt, my eyes went down to his six pack abs and I swallowed even more… Right before I drool over his sexy body, Drake cleared his throat and I looked up to his face immediately.

Then the room shifted. Draken strolled in like he owned the damn place. No horns, no wings, no tail, just that infuriatingly handsome human form and a lazy smirk that screamed trouble. He wore black slacks and an open collared shirt that did absolutely nothing to hide the fact that he was built like a weapon.

Isn't that his voice. June's guess proved right when the door to her apartment suddenly opened and Drake stood before her. He wore a light gray V-neck T-shirt made of cashmere material that printed the shape of his chest and stomach muscles. He wore knee-length shorts of the same color. June had never seen Drake in casual clothes before. "What are you doing here? How did you get in?” asked June. "Through the window," he answered casually as he stepped closer. "I've locked all the windows," June replied.

“Put on a shirt!” Miguel arched a brow, a lazy grin tugging at his lips as he caught the panic in Drake’s voice. His eyes glittered with amusement. “Why? You act like you’ve never seen a shirtless handsome guy before.” Drake immediately turned his back, flustered, with ears burning red. “That’s not the point,” he muttered, fiddling with the hem of his own sweater. He didn’t dare look again. His crush was shirtless before him, that was when he understood why his chest felt tight or why there was this sudden pull in his stomach

The bitter taste of rejection sat heavy on my tongue until a shadow blocked the light. Drake stepped into the foyer, looking unexpectedly sharp. He wore a slim-fit charcoal suit with a black silk shirt underneath, left unbuttoned at the collar to reveal a silver chain. His hair was slicked back, but a few rebellious strands fell over his forehead, giving him that "troubled heir" look that the cameras loved. "Hey," he said, stopping directly in front of me. "How do I look?" "Not bad," I said matter-of-factly. I forced my gaze away from Jake, desperately trying to focus on Drake. It was easier to look at the son than the father who was currently ignoring me. "What about me? How do I look?"

Emma attempted to look solemn as they were on their way to chanel's show the next morning. Drake was wearing a dark green suit, a white button up and a black tie. He dressed like he was attending a business meeting, and not like he was heading for a fashion show.But as for Emma, she wore a grey Chanel two piece. She looked sexier than ever, and Drake definitely felt the same way.