Jean Bruce Scott Nude Novels & Stories

Bruce laid Beverly down on the black and white leopard print comforter in her bedroom. Then he straddled her hips and pulled his shirt out of his jeans. Bruce pulled his shirt over his head, exposing his bulging muscled chest sprinkled with brown hair and hard as a rock six-pack abs. Thank God there isn’t a law against a man being this sexy.

Scott was still oblivious to his surroundings; he was naked, his phallus was up, and his chest was going up and down, suggesting that he was breathing. I sat up, covering my bare chest with the duvet. I had a real-life work of art before me, so I had to explore it with my eyes. He had an almost perfect body; his body shone, and the sunlight emitting from the window gave light to his body. I was tempted to draw lines along his biceps and triceps, but I knew that would wake him up.

The first thing Scott did was avert his face. Shit. Why was his body reacting to seeing a naked girl in front of him? Usually, Scott didn’t care. He was used to nudity, as werewolves had to shed their clothes when shifting. But when he looked at the body of this rogue, petite yet sturdy, Scott felt something stirring down there. He clenched his jaw and held his breath. He couldn’t let himself be like this. Even though she was a girl, this rogue was dangerous. He had to finish her off now.