Novelas y relatos de Mahito Shirtless

It is thick enough it won't be see-through, but light enough to get me through a humid Michigan summer day. As I study the shirt, trying to work out the pricing system and missing decimals, the door to the main room opens and Vincent himself walks in. He's wrapped his towel around his neck and his lower half is covered with a pair of black workout pants, but his middle... The most important part of a man to look at—his chest—is uncovered in all its glory. Has he been walking around the hotel letting everyone see him practically naked? His face is red, and he uses the end of the towel to wipe it off, stopping his footsteps halfway into the living room when he spots me.

I reassure, laying back, I watch Tori lay on her stomach as she hides her blushed cheeks. “I know people wear clothes, obviously, but they just hold in the heat,” Tori sighs before pulling her shirt off and I laugh. “And keep everyone from running around naked, what a sight that would be. I get it though, growing up the way you did I imagine clothes are restrictive,” I admit, unable to take my eyes from my mate’s beautiful porcelain skin. Sitting up I pull my shirt off then close the canopy to provide more shade.

I said softly. "Come in," he said. When I walked into the room, I froze holding onto the door handle. Nate was standing in front of me, shirtless. He had a towel tied around his waist and he was using the other to dry his hair. He looked down at his body when he saw my shock. "Oh, shit, sorry." He replied, rushing off into his closet. When he emerged, he was fully clothed but it was too late. The image of his shirtless chest and chiseled abs was already engraved in my memory. It did something to me. Right now, I was throwing caution to the wind.

He continued guiding the route and I continued following him but…. I had to stop myself and guess, close my eyes too. Out of nowhere, he starts taking off his shirt and then his white t-shirt which he was wearing. What the hell? Am I supposed to close my eyes or open them? I have not seen any men shirtless before. What should I do? I tried peeking through my fingers while covering my eyes with my hands. So this is how they look like when men are shirtless. I have, not for a moment had imagined a guy can be so attractive without a shirt. His perfect 8 abs, white but bit tanned skin, broad arms….How can someone be so perfect?

I assured him. “I’m here at a souvenir shop. Will that be enough?” “Hmm, you have to tell me the color of your shirt so that he can recognize you right away,” I told him. “I am shirtless and just wearing a board short and a slipper. Black cap and black sunglass.” Did he have to include the fact that he was shirtless? I took a deep breath while trying not to imagine his overall appearance at the moment, but I could sense from his voice that he was handsome.

The morning mist clung low to the ground, cool against my skin as I stepped outside. And then— I stopped. Damien was already there. Shirtless. Breathing slow and controlled, muscles moving fluidly beneath skin kissed by dawnlight. His hair was tied back loosely, a few strands falling against his neck, damp with sweat. He was stretching, rolling his shoulders like a predator preparing for a hunt. I felt it. That sharp, unwanted heat. Moon help me. I cleared my throat loudly. “Is a shirt illegal where you come from?” He turned.

He stated, shaking his head and offering a faint smile. “How? You barely get any sleep.” I slightly frowned. “I get the amount of sleep I need.” “No, you don’t. Now, take your off shirt and get in.” I ordered him. Damiano looked at me with a raised brow. “And why do I need my shirt off?” “Because I’m addicted to seeing you shirtless. Hurry, I don’t have all day.” I said impatiently. “You’re getting a little too comfortable bossing me around.” He clicked his tongue, but still took off his shirt, leaving him in the delicious glory of his six-pack and tattoos.

He frantically shook his head, trying not to remember it. "Kai." Manik placed a shirt on his shoulder from behind him, grabbing his attention. "Change into this." "Oh, than-" his words were replaced by a frown when his eyes fell on the shirt. It was a 3D muscle printed skin toned shirt that he had gifted Manik on his last birthday just to mock him for being such a body building freak. "No I am not wearing this!" "I only have that shirt in the car." Manik shrugged. "And c'mon it would look good on you. You know with those fake abs on display you wouldn't need to worry about real ones"

Gripping. "Shit," I whispered, clutching my chest. His chin-length chocolate hair was tousled. He was shirtless with his hard torso on display for my hungry gaze above a pair of red and black, plaid pajama shorts that hung just low enough on his hips to make that V-line mouth-watering. "I didn't know you were home...or shirtless."

Victor stood in the center wearing a charcoal shirt open at the throat and dark trousers that did nothing to hide the heavy bulge already straining the zipper. He was six foot four feet that tall, thick through the chest and arms, his knuckles scarred and his eyes, flat and predatory. He simply looked her over like meat on a hook and said, “Strip.” Mia’s fingers shook as she reached for the zipper at her spine. She swallowed hard, as the little black dress slid down her body and pooled at her feet. She had been instructed not to put on a bra and panties. So she was just bare skin, gooseflesh racing over her arms and thighs, her nipples tightening painfully under his stare.