Montana Jordan Shirtless Novels & Stories

But just as she turned over, the door creaked open, slightly. Mira sat up quickly as Jordan stepped inside like a shadow, closing the door gently behind him. He did not turn on the light, only the small light from the moon through the window exposed his face. He wore a black shirt that clung to his chest, and sweatpants which hung low on his hips, barefooted. She should have screamed. Told him to leave. Throw something. But she didn’t move. "I thought you weren’t coming," she said quietly, her voice hoarse from holding back too much all day.

Barely even half-dressed, I pressed my clothes tight against my chest insanely aware of his eyes on me. Honestly, I couldn't count the number of times I had been naked at the club, but with Jordan's eyes on me, I felt more exposed than ever. He wasn't in his customary attire of jeans and a t-shirt and instead was wearing a pair of slacks and a button-up shirt that hung loose. It looked as if he had just come from the office which considering he was Reed's right-hand man in most everything, including this club, he very well might have. Either outfit was a stark contrast to the leather and chains that most of the other Dom's or Domme's wore around here. He cleared his throat loudly, making me

I could see Enzo's hands moving with his words as he scolded Griffin. "Go ahead and change back, I'll block the doorway as you dress," Jordan grumbled. He turned his back to me, flashing his perfect muscular buttocks. No tan lines, I thought and my wolf laughed. I shifted back and cringed hearing my bones cracking. Going into the closet I found both women's and men's clothes. I lifted a pair of shorts that Jordan could fit and stuck my head out.

Just as I'm ready to give in, we hear something that makes us both jump up. "Mommy?" Dakota says from the other bedroom. I jump out of bed and start looking for my clothes. When all I see is my dress from the night before, I groan. "Here, wear these." Jordan throws me a T-shirt and a pair of his boxers. As soon as I have the clothes on, I hear Dakota opening the other bedroom door. I run to the door and open it. She's standing on the other side, looking at me in surprise. I turn and see Jordan dressed in a T-shirt and athletic shorts. Dakota looks at him, too.

"You are mine forever." Magnus Jordan took a shuddering breath, feeling the change in the other man as he reversed the path of the knife, twisting it over his skin and in quick, rough movements cut the shirt off Jordan. Tiny red welts formed where the fabric had stuck too close to his body to remove without touching his skin. Despite the heat, Jordan shivered, and the stuffy air in the shed didn't change that. The icy cold began to spread through him, his skin tingled uncomfortably, and the marks of the knife burned.

I laugh softly, letting him take control, my lips too numb from last night's effect. We left the bathroom almost thirty minutes later, and once we realized we had work to do, hurried to our closet to get dressed. Lazily, I took out the joggers and sweats before putting them on. It starts to get colder, and since we are outside, I decided to put on something to keep me warm other than my inhuman temperature. "I'm leading training today," Jordan called out as reach up to wear a van. "Hey, you promised me some sessions, what about that?" I questioned, exiting the closet and went to sit on the bed. Jordan stood by the dresser, pulling on a black jacket over his gray tee. He looks back at me, smi

Michael and I hadn't found that even ground yet. "Am I working you too hard?" Jordan's voice startled me out of my thoughts, and I turned around to look at him. He wore his usual uniform: black jeans, a white shirt, and a black apron. It was a simple look on anyone, but he somehow looked like a million dollars in it. "Sorry, just having one of those days. But I'm done here for today, getting ready to head out."

I can hear my intestines wiggling like worms in protests. And oh that hissing sound? I bet it's fat sizzles. I carefully and quietly appear from the wall and what stands in front of my eyes, the back facing me, is Jordan Crown himself. He's topless, only wearing an apron. I can see the well-defined muscles of his back, the rough and firm muscles that link his broad shoulders. That athletic structure reaches all the way down, which his round and healthy buttocks restricted from going further. I know he has the cake. It forms against his gray sweatpants. HIS GRAY SWEATPANTS!

Jordan's hand found my bare back, stroking down my spine. In the next rounds, they lost. Riley lost his tee, revealing more tattoos. Jordan stripped his own shirt after, his muscles rippling as he tossed it aside. Broad shoulders, defined abs—I stared too long, my cock stirring in my jeans. I won one again, making Jordan drop his shorts. He stood with only his boxers around him, his bulge obvious, thick and… I can't describe it. It just looks insanely perfect. My mouth went dry, imagining it hard against me.

Athena and Mallory thought they had seen it all, not until they saw some shirtless men in the field, wearing loose pants with sweat tricking down their upper bodies. Mallory gulped down the saliva in her throat as she saw some of the men bulge in their loose pants. “Did you see that?” Mallory asked Athena beside her in a hushed tone. Athena saw the men displaying their abs and six-packs on the field with sweat trickling down their bare bodies. But she was barely affected.