Ezra Miller Shirtless Novels & Stories

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.

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.

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.

Even Ethan had a bright smile on his face, but the thing was… They were all shirtless.

“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 smiled, “You look amazing, by the way” Ezra was wearing dark, slim-fitting jeans and a fitted black T-shirt. His dark brown hair was slightly longer than I remember and styled as if he’d been pushing it back all day. I hadn't seen him in person since the night of my crowning ceremony, but we frequently facetimed. “Thanks. You don’t look too bad yourself.” “I’ll take that as a compliment,” Ezra winked, causing my cheeks to heat. “Time to get drunk and forget about the world for the evening,” Tessa shouted, linking arms with the both of us and dragging us out of my room.

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.

Better to not have to explain why my body looked like it had gone through a Cricut. I set to work removing my own pants and walked them over to where Azrael’s sat. When I turned around, I found myself face-to-face with the shirtless god. Since I was the newly appointed spokesperson for self-control, I didn’t so much as glance at his bare chest. Okay, that was a lie. I glanced, I drooled, and I blushed. Sue me. Azrael pouted, “You’re still wearing your shirt.” I planted my hands on my hips, more than willing to fight him on this. “Yeah, and it’s going to stay that way.”