Hairy Men Novels & Stories

But they must change at least once every forty-eight hours or the gene in their blood will create havoc in their system. Hmm. She wondered what kind of havoc? "What do you think, Mischief? What would happen to them?" "Mrow." Mischief leaned back and rubbed her head against Jamie's tummy. "My thoughts exactly." "In human form the warrior men are extremely masculine. The hair on their head is thick and luxurious, their body is muscular but lean and they are endowed with a larger-than-normal penis." What? Holy shit! The pulse between her thighs woke up, thudding in her suddenly wet pussy and her nipples tingled as she stared at the drawing. How was it even possible something that large would fi

replied a man with a mustache. Suddenly the two scary men appeared from behind Miho. “I see you’ve already met our snack” said the young man with chains around his neck while violently pulling Miho’s hair causing tears to run down her cheeks continuously without making a sound. “This one we got today is a fuckin cry baby” joked the young man with huge holes on his pinna as the crowd of young men laughed. “Come on guys, let the kid go?” said the young man with a match stick in his mouth moving toward the two men.

, I urge them and they stand. The person standing beside Elijah is huge and dark skin, long hair so I supposed he is a Darc. The Darcs are known for their long hair, their scary aura, their males name starts with a T and their female is with a V. The El Musharc, they all have curly hair and are known for their jewelry. A Vahemir, their women all have blonde hair and are so graceful, their men I honestly don’t know. I never met a Vahemir. But I know what we all have in common is arrogance. The man beside the bulky fella is a slender man. His grey eyes are mesmerizing, he is light skin. His hair is packed with a strand falling out.

“Get away.” The man in the lead, the one who’d been calling out to us, raises his hands in surrender, but his pale cornflower blue eyes scan my battered face then my body. He has bright, golden blond hair and a deep tan, but his cheeks are ruddy from the harsh sun. His companion, a man in his mid-to-late twenties, has dark skin and long, softly curling, but insanely thick, black hair he has tied back in a loose bun that brushes his shoulders. His eyes are as dark brown as mine. Both men are similarly dressed in billowing, creamy white poet shirts and snug pants that taper at the ankles. They look like… characters from a book I used to read as a kid. Pirates.

She truly was a spectacular beauty. Next to these charming fellows were three older men. One of these men was tall with a well-built figure. Even in the cold weather, he only wore a tank top which exposed his powerful arms that were filled with great strength. He had gorgeous black hair which complemented his dark complexion wonderfully. He was a handsome middle aged man with an aura that filled many with calm. The other two weren’t as eye-catching, for one was an old man hunched over on a wooden stick and the other a large potbellied man with a sly look on his face.

Standing on the other side were five freaking hefty men with murderous glares. My blood ran cold as my eyes took them in from head to toe. Each man was built like a brick house, muscular and tall, with arms the size of tree trunks. Their faces were stern and chiselled, with hard jaws and identical black eyes that seemed to bore into my soul. They were bald, and that seemed to add to the dangerous aura wafting out from them. And the inks? Oh my freaking heavens. They were covered, from head to toes in tattoos.

Of the five there, there was one who stood out because he had a head full of white hair. Even though the man had a head full of white hair, he did not look old. It seemed like the white hair was just a special characteristic of his. The white-haired man frowned and said, "Francis Lloyd, haven't you had enough? It's been an hour, and you haven't even broken a single outer shell. The ones waiting behind you are about to go crazy."

The smoke curled around his face. My stomach tightened as I counted quickly—one, two, three… ten of them. Ten men. Their clothes were rough, their eyes sharp and hungry. I couldn’t see any weapons, but I wasn’t foolish enough to think they didn’t have any. “What do you want?” I asked, my voice tired but steady. The one holding my hair chuckled darkly. “Such a beauty,” he murmured, leaning close to sniff my hair. His breath made my skin crawl. The rest laughed. Their gazes crawled over me like hands. I could feel their filthy thoughts even before they spoke.

Every head turned as one of the two doors to the room slowly swung open, and two men walked in. Less than a quarter of the people present had never seen the Lycan before, but they'd gotten a description from their family members who had. Tall and broad, the description went, olive skin with long dark hair, eternal youth with extremely good looks. It was easy to pick who that was between the two men. The picture of him that had been immediately taken down from the community forum didn't even begin to compare to the Lycan in real life. He was simply something out of the imagination.

'Not as good as our mate,' my wolf growls, clearly territorial. After slipping it over my head and taking note that it falls almost to my knees, I step out of the protection of the trees, my hackles up—although, slightly less than before at being given a shirt to wear by one of them—when I spot two huge men—one of them sans shirt—with blonde hair and piercing blue eyes. The girl, although smaller in stature, shares matching features. Except, where the two guys have their hair trimmed short, hers falls to her waist in soft, thick waves. "Can I help you?" I quip irritably as I fold my arms beneath my breasts.