Man Without Ties Novels & Stories

As if they would even care. I loosen my tie from my neck as it was suffocating me. I don't understand the logic of wearing ties at all. I personally prefer myself to be tieless. There is so much pressure already, why put up with a dress code that does not help? And not that it attracts any particular interests of the opposite sex. Women do like to pull off a man's tie in bed and the sluts I have fucked always complimented them. Except her. Meera Adarsh. I hate that woman! She keeps occupying most of my thoughts and I don't even understand why I don't exercise any control on it. The way she states facts pisses me off. Why does she always have to be so straightforward?

My body floods with emotions and I sense Leia pacing in my head with anticipation. The door opens and there he is. His suit looks like it has been painted on. It is all black on black and he looks absolutely delicious. Leia purrs in my head her approval of our mate, and I feel my heart speed up. Of course, he decided to go without a tie. Instead, as always, he left the top two buttons undone. The top of his chiseled chest is on full display. Along with part of one of his tattoos, which goes from his peck all the way down his arm, to his wrist. His hair is lightly gelled, tousled up and combed over to the side. I can feel my thong becoming damp, so I bite my lip and squeeze my thighs together

The tension between them buzzed like static. “Because you were the only person,” he said quietly, “who wasn’t tied to my father. Who wasn’t tied to the company. Who wasn’t tied to Delilah or the board or the empire I inherited.” His gaze deepened. “You were the only person in this entire orbit who was… free.” Savannah stared at him, stunned by the admission. “You chose me because I was unattached,” she whispered. “Untainted.” “I chose you because you could survive it.”

That's why I do it. He looks — good. Tired around the edges in the way of someone who's been carrying a plan for months and is finally at the moment of it. His jacket is the dark one I like. He's not wearing a tie, which he's stopped doing in the last several months because I told him once that the tie always looked like armor and he took that seriously. He looks like himself. Fully. Without the performance layer. "Hi," he says. "You're not in Singapore," I say.

The room was dim, lit by a single mood lamp behind him. The man kneeled on the floor with his hands tied behind his back, chest pushed forward. A black lace blindfold covered most of his face, leaving only the sharp line of his jaw…and lips barely holding onto a loosened tie. The red silk shirt stretched tight across his chest like the buttons were fighting for their lives. Lower down, defined abs faded in and out beneath the shadows, his waist tense like a drawn bow. The whole thing radiated restrained power, like he might snap the ropes at any second.

After I told him everything that had happened over the past few days, he asked calmly, "Can I see the tie?" I pulled out my phone and showed him the photo. He nodded and showed no reaction. Still, I was terrified. I reminded myself not to mention that I bought it for my son, in case he turned on me too. He handed my phone back and asked, "You bought this tie for your son, didn’t you?" I clamped my mouth shut. He suddenly smiled. "Relax. I'm not going to hurt you. "Besides, even if you don't say it, I already know. The root of the problem is you telling people you bought this tie for your son.

It seems his mood would be worse if he had. In the growing light of the spacious workspace, the man's sharp features become more noticeable. He is in his mid-thirties, clean-shaven, with piercing eyes, and stands several inches over six feet tall. He is impeccably groomed, wearing a crisp white button-down shirt with a high collar, a neat blood-red Jacquard puff tie, and a charcoal gray tweed single-breasted vest, exuding an aura of old-money style. A silver chain from a pocket watch glints in his front right pocket.

It was grand and well decorated in such a way that depicted his aura. I didn’t look around his room. If there was anything I wanted at the moment, it was to be done with him and be left alone. Once I had stepped into the room, the man left, leaving me to face Lorenzo’s wrath. I saw him sitting on a couch not too far from his king size bed. The upper buttons of his shirt were left unbuttoned, giving a glimpse of his taut chest. The black tie he wore was loosened around the collar of his white shirt. With his outfit perfectly outlining his well sculpted body, he looked so dangerously attractive.

She couldn’t bring herself to buy very expensive clothing, knowing that the more affordable clothing is good enough. The man has loosened his tie and it hangs loosely around his neck. His jacket that matches his pants is carefully draped over on of the arm rests of the chair. Ally notices the golden watch the man is wearing. She can tell by looking at it that it costs more than her car. On his other hand, there is a golden wedding band on his ring finger. Ally frowns at the man. Why would a married man be here in her room, sleeping in a chair as if he is keeping watch over her, and fell asleep while doing so?

Always act in a way that your face is never worth remembering. “Alright, well give me a shout if you need anything.” The man walks by and I glance towards the door. Where is he? I'm on edge, there’s no contact for weeks prior to locking in on a target. Why is he even in this city? The door opens after a while, and a man nothing out of the ordinary enters. He’s wearing a cotton jacket over loose pants and a white shirt, a cap on his head and normal boots that any middle-aged man would wear.