Ezra Miller Shirtless Novels & Stories

Tit for tat was a fair game , so I wasn't committing an offence anyway,she also stared at mine last night so. "There you go,sir" she said distancing herself away from me. My arms hurt,I needed a shower real bad but also a shirt , what would people think if they saw me coming shirtless from my secretary's room? "Millers,I need a shirt," I said not even sparing her a glance. " Um...I think I have one but it's too small," she said rummaging through her bag, when she finally removed a black shirt with the inscription,'I've got ass'

I said, and I really did my best to avoid his gaze, but Ezra suddenly blocked my way, and I heard him locking the door, which caused me to gulp. Wait, don't tell me he will beat me up because of what I did? "Is that all?" "W-What?" I looked into Ezra's face, and that's when I noticed how he was shirtless, and his hair was still dripping wet with a towel over his neck. I thought I shouldn't look down because he might be naked down there too, but he was wearing boxer shorts. "Wait here, I'll just get some clothes on." He said, and he rushed to his closet.

And so, I opened it. There he stood, Adam freaking Miller, looking dashing in a crisp white shirt and a dark brown jacket and dark blue jeans that fit him perfectly. His hair had more gel in it than usual and I could tell he had just shaved since there was no stubble in sight. The man looked as if he had just jumped out of a magazine. His brown eyes met mine, and for a moment, the world seemed to fade away around me. His eyes slowly scanned over my body, his smile growing along with my self-confidence. One thing about Adam Miller I had already figured out, was that somehow, the man was a terrible liar, and right now, he wasn't hiding the fact that he liked what he was seeing.

In his hand, he gripped a handful of glossy magazines and two paperbacks, covers that still made heat rush to my cheeks. Millie had slipped them into my hands behind the gym a couple weeks back, winking and whispering, "Trust me, you need these more than I do." The magazines were filled with shirtless men in low-slung jeans or nothing at all, their skin glistening and eyes smoldering as they gazed into the camera.

“But look at the positive side—she won’t harass you today.” I shook my head. We approached the edge of camp when Ezra stepped out of his tent. My breath caught when he leaned against a tree, his head tilted, his gaze piercing. He wore only a pair of dark trousers slung low on his hips. His bare chest gleamed in the early light, muscles taut, and sun-kissed skin. His golden eyes locked onto mine. He wasn’t here to say goodbye.

Ezra's POV "Are you sure you're going to bring me to the meeting wearing this?" I asked. Ryler looked at me from head to toe while fixing his tie hooking around his neck. "What's wrong?" I bite my lower lip and shyly tuck some hair strands behind my ears. "Uhm... wouldn't it be weird? I'm your s-slave and I am wearing this kind of dress?" I play with the hem of my yellow dress. It's a halter designed floral dress that falls just above my knees. A servant knocked on my door earlier and handed me this flat sandals with strings wrapped my lower legs.

The lecture hall smelled faintly of rain and wet pavement, the kind of damp chill that made people huddle into their jackets. Ezra stood at the front, nails painted a glossy black that caught the pale fluorescent light as he flipped through his notes. He wasn’t dressed like most guys in their third year, today it was a soft cream cardigan that slid just off one shoulder, a pleated skirt that skimmed mid-thigh, and sheer tights that made his legs look like they belonged in some perfume ad. The outfit was deliberate, and from the way his green eyes kept flicking toward the middle row, it was clear who it was for.

Claire Miller spent the entire morning in a haze of nerves and filthy anticipation. She stood in front of her full-length mirror for almost forty minutes trying on different outfits before settling on the most shameless one. It was a white, ultra-sheer sports bra that was barely more than a crop top and matching white micro shorts so thin they were practically see-through. The fabric clung to her body like a second skin. Her nipples were clearly visible through the material, and when she turned sideways, the outline of her shaved pussy lips showed obscenely if the light hit her just right. She looked like a whore trying to pass as a gym-goer.

There he was as I stepped out of the elevator onto the parking lot. Instead of his usual suit, Mr. Miller stood beside a sleek Porsche, wearing a black shirt with rolled-up sleeves, blue denim jeans, and athletic shoes. He had left the top buttons of his shirt undone, exposing his chiselled chest. His smirk pulled me out of my trance, and I hastily looked away, embarrassed to be caught staring at him.

I snapped at him and he looked down at me. "What are you talking about?" he asked me but there was a very evident smirk on his face. "What are you trying to do?" I asked Mr Miller, irritation dripping off my tone as I glared at him, "why are you doing this?" "I don't know what you're talking about," he shrugged, as his eyes looked me over, looking at the dress that I was wearing. It was a short and tight black dress. It had thin straps and it had a sweetheart neckline. It barely reached midthigh and it was quite sexy but I wore it for Junior.