Enrique Iglesias Shirtless Novels & Stories

“I can’t and will not abandon him, Dad.” I look at Mama and Dad, seeing the regret, guilt and sadness in their eyes, and I shake my head. “I am not blaming anyone, but all I want to say is I will not return until I have succeeded in doing what I came here-“ I stop when I hear footsteps, my heart thudding as I stare at the door that suddenly opens revealing a very sexy shirtless Enrique, he’s dripping wet making his pants stick to him, shaping his very obvious appendage and I quickly avert my gaze blushing profusely.

He was shirtless and had his back turned, his boy was tanned, and boy was he ripped, his arms were huge, I know they were from the clothes he wore but seeing him bareback was a different story. “Taking your fill I see” shit, I've been caught staring.

Drake said quietly. Miguel paused, then turned his head toward him with a sly look. Without a word, he peeled the shirt off again, standing there shirtless. The morning sun casting soft shadows over the lean lines of his torso. "Is it?" Miguel asked, casually tossing the shirt aside.

Isabelle must be home, I can't wait to finally meet her face to face. “Hello,” I call out as I shuffle inside, dragging one bag and pushing the other inside with my foot. “Isabelle?” I muster but gasp out in shock standing in surprise. There’s a boy! No.. Not just a boy—a MAN, standing in the living room shirtless. His back is to me, and it's cut in a million different directions with thick muscles and deep grooves. He's wearing gray jogging pants, his ass is round, firm, and clenches tightly as he turns around.

Isabelle must be home, I can't wait to finally meet her face to face. “Hello,” I call out as I shuffle inside, dragging one bag and pushing the other inside with my foot. “Isabelle?” I muster but gasp out in shock standing in surprise. There’s a boy! No.. Not just a boy—a MAN, standing in the living room shirtless. His back is to me, and it's cut in a million different directions with thick muscles and deep grooves. He's wearing gray jogging pants, his ass is round, firm, and clenches tightly as he turns around.

Alonso quickly takes off his T-shirt, and I gulp as I stop the movement of my hand. I've seen him without a shirt on before at the pool, but I didn't give myself the chance to admire him fully. The man was sculpted by a master, his muscles tightly packed underneath olive skin. There's a tattoo of a football on his left pectoral with the number three woven through it. My eyes drop to his jeans when he unbuttons it, and he takes it off along with his boxers, leaving him gloriously naked before me. I almost hyperventilate as his cock juts proudly upwards, the veins protruding angrily upwards to a large bulbous head.

He’d look ridiculous in that. “Is this a joke? How do I even wear it?” Enrique inspected the material. “Can we switch it for a kerchief instead?” “Nope. You know the rules.” Mike shrugged. “And no briefs, buddy.” Okay. Mike was a certified asshole. Stick to the truth. My gaze went to my right, meeting Arianna’s. “Mother Nature would be so proud of you.” Mike clapped when Enrique came out holding the material around his hips while hiding his privates using his free hand.

His arms were thick and defined, hands pressing together in front of him. But his back…. Jesus. Eli’s stomach twisted. The man’s back was ridiculous. Broad and sculpted like a Michelangelo statue, with muscles shifting subtly every time he breathed. Thick strands of long, black hair rested on his spine, swaying gently with his inhales. And he was shirtless, of course, he was shirtless. ELi almost groaned out loud. Because of course, his “spiritual rehabilitator’ had to look like some damn erotic fantasy.

I actually choked on my own breath. Gabriel was standing there, leaning casually against the doorframe. He had ditched the fresh shirt he was wearing earlier. He was completely shirtless, wearing nothing but his low-slung linen lounge pants. The afternoon sun hit the planes of his chest and stomach, highlighting every hard-won muscle and the trail of damp hair that disappeared beneath his waistband. "G-Gabriel!" I squeaked, my eyes darting everywhere—the sky, the floor, the railing—anywhere but his bare torso. "What are you doing? Where is your shirt?"

“Use this. It's got blood in my back already, so it doesn’t matter. I have a lot and I can walk shirtless. You can't.” She knew she had seen all of him. She had even rubbed herself skin-to-naked skin against him. She'd done the most intimate act a man and a woman could share with him. But she was, suddenly, having difficulty looking at his exposed chest. It was because of Enrique—Señorito... Eric had a beautiful body. He had a powerful chest, and his tummy wasn't flat—it's got buns. He also had the kind of shape that was too hard to resist watching so she tried hard to act normal as she took the shirt from him and turned him around so she could—