Montana Jordan Shirtless Novels & Stories

MADISON'S POV* Watching that dashing person to come in, the maids immediately stood up and went to my side and bowed. Jordan smiled at them and turn towards me. He smiled at me proudly, as if he's bragging how fresh he looks right now. My left eyebrow raised as I looked at him from head to toe. He's wearing a white Vneck shirt and a black pants. His hair was fixed and he looks like he just shaved. "What brings Mr. Jordan 'Fresh' Drein here?"

I don’t either, but time is running short, and with another woman gone, our options are frighteningly thin. Somehow, someway, I have to separate Jordan from his all-access key card for our plan to work. No one is getting into the Pit without it. ~ I’ve offered myself up as the sacrificial sub, but it takes me an hour to spot Jordan in the public dungeons, now dressed in leather pants. Amid the crack of whips and the cries of pleasure and pain, he tries to give off the all-American-hero vibe with his winning smile. He’d spiced it up with a bit of badass, punctuated by the barbed-wire tattoo around one of his biceps and his gym-cut abs rippling between peeks of his black leather vest, without

Stripping out of the damp jeans, I grabbed a thick white towel from the armchair and wrapped it tightly around my chest. Stepping back, I looked at him. Standing entirely shirtless in the morning sunlight, the man looked like a literal war god. Thick, corded muscle wrapped around his torso. His skin smelled of pine and raw power. Deep inside my lower belly, a hot, heavy pulse flared.

He looked incredible in a black shirt with the sleeves rolled up, showing off his tattoos. “Alex! You came,” Jordan said, lighting up when he saw me. He pulled me into a quick hug that lingered a second too long. “No tie. Progress. What do you think of the show?” “It’s loud,” I said, looking around. “Your piece over there? The one with the city lights breaking apart? It’s powerful. Like the mural you’re doing for me.” Jordan grinned, handing me a glass of red wine. “Glad you like it. That one’s about breaking free. Kind of like what I keep telling you to do. Drink up. Relax. These people don’t bite… much.”

Instead, the second I stepped inside, that sharp citrus-and-musk cologne hit me straight in the chest. “You’ve gotta be shitting me.” Jordan leaned against the marble island in the open living room, shirtless, gray sweatpants hanging dangerously low on his hips. The carved lines of his abs flexed as he straightened up, that black ink tattoo curling down his left side like it was daring me to trace it with my tongue. Twenty-seven. My stepbrother. The one person who could make me want to scream and come at the same time. He took a slow sip from his glass, dark eyes dragging down my body like he already owned it. My thin white tank top was already sticking to my skin from the heat, nipples hard

I dried my body with the towel and then I realized that I have no clothes there. "Shit! Such a fool." I smacked my head for my foolishness and looked for a bathrobe. But to my bad luck there was no bathrobe. But something caught my gaze and it was a shirt. As it was Jordan's shirt so obviously it was bigger than my size so when I put it on my body it almost covered my body till my mid-thigh. I came out of the bathroom and found Jordan sitting on the bed with my food. His gaze shifted to my side when he heard the door open. "Come and have your break……" His words caught in his throat when his gaze fell on me and he found me in his shirt.

At this rate it was going to look like I peed myself,but I quickly did what he said. Because naked me,was not afraid of Jordan's judgement. Infact,I looked forward to the look of appreciation I always saw in his eyes when he looked at me. “Oh God,” he breathed when I tossed the shirt away and reached for the waistband of the oversized shorts I had on. And I can swear I saw his erection jerk as his gaze fell to my thong. “So fucking beautiful…”

The door was slightly ajar, and soft sounds of movement and heavy breathing drifted out. I stopped right at the edge of the doorframe, pressing my back against the wall, and peeked in through the gap. Oh. My. God. He was there. Shirtless. Gone were the suits, the crisp shirts, the buttons, the ties. He was wearing only dark grey sweatpants hanging low on his hips, no shirt, no shoes, nothing else. His back was to me, hands gripping the pull-up bar high above him, and he was moving—smoothly.

Jordan is getting enthusiastic over his silly little dog, and Cole's claws are digging into my arm, reminding me not to say anything to aggravate him. Cole's fingernails snag my arm, reminding me not to say anything to enrage Jordan or get him fired up about his pointless game so he can enrage me. Jordan and his pals could easily beat the crap out of me. I can't offend him in any way. I watch as Marnie takes off her bra, crosses the straps over her arms, and then throws it to Jordan. I want to pull that dress right off of her. Jordan looks at her bra and comments, "Good size.

I said to Lautner and acted annoyed with him but it seems that my acting is not well delivered and it wasn't effective because Lautner just smirks and raised an eyebrow at me. "He's not insulting you, Ashton. But with that sleeveless shirt and trunks you're wearing, I think you'll be a little bit out of place in that event." Mason said and just like Lautner he is wearing ripped jeans with the waistband of his Calvin Klein briefs visible and his top were only covered with a leather jacket, it was unbuttoned which exposed his eight-pack abs.