My Beautiful Man Novels & Stories

To be free. I open my mouth to say no, but the word gets stuck in my throat as I lift my gaze to the bridge in front of us where everyone is dancing except for one man. He grips the rail in both hands, staring down at me with the darkest, most demonic eyes I’ve seen, looking like the devil in a black suit that molds to his tall form and broad shoulders. The lights dance over his face, illuminating the devastatingly handsome features I know better than my own. Leonardo Sebastian Franco.

"Duntied did the moon agree to send you here?" As ironic as that wasn't, I couldn't help but give a debauched smile. "The moon doesn't speak." The man took a deep breath, warming my face with the warm air from his nose. He was so close, and I hadn't even noticed the approach. I could now say that he was handsome. Perhaps the most beautiful man I've ever seen in my twenty-five years of life. But humans were decadent, and there were no beautiful people after so many years without food and sufficient living conditions.

(ONE MONTH LATER) ....She makes me wanna get off the road Wish I could turn it off, let it go But she's too fucking beautiful. - "Beautiful" by Michele Morrone ***** In the heart of the woods, far from civilization, a grand, ominous mansion stood tall. The silence was broken only by the occasional cries of agony and despair echoing from deep within. Inside the lavish lounge, a man sat on an opulent chair, sipping wine while gazing at a photograph in his hand. His lips curled into a smile as he studied the image—a woman with flowing brunette hair, her nose scrunched as she held a playful puppy.

A sigh of relief escaped me. The hands that had helped me were still wrapped around my waist. A hand stretched and plucked the last cupcakes from the tray. I glanced back only to find the most beautiful man I had ever seen in my life. He was dressed in simple clothing. Almost too simple, he didn't look like he belonged here or like he was meant to be at the party at all. He let go of me and I watched as he bit into the cupcake and groaned. “So, that's why everyone has been raging about it. Delicious,” the beautiful man said, his voice deep and seductive like a calm tidal wave.

His sad eyes were so beautiful. His nose and lips were so beautiful. The gentle face with long eyelashes that suited the beautiful and exact thickness of the eyebrows. This man is the most beautiful man in the world. In her work, she doesn't only meet handsome and sexy men. But this man looks different. He has this Aura. A glowing mystical aura.

My breath caught in my throat as I looked at the man. He was the most handsome man I had ever laid eyes on. The word 'handsome' didn't do him any justice. He was straight up gorgeous. I couldn't believe he was real. He looked like he just stepped out of a magazine.

“Dad, I just saw the man I’m going to marry. He’s the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen. And he has the most beautiful smile in the world.” I scoffed, fighting the urge to grab one of the heavy crystal vases and smash it over her already bandaged head. “The most beautiful man you’ve ever seen, huh?” “Yes,” she answered without hesitation, as if it were the most natural truth in the world. “There’s a line between handsome and beautiful in men, you know? When a man becomes too handsome, he crosses into beautiful. That’s Reese.” “Thank you for the compliment,” I said tightly. “My husband is certainly very attractive.”

He stood up and took five steps to meet me where I stood—frozen still. His gaze moved slowly over my body as he studied me. My fingers trembled at my sides, but I tried hard to hold it in. I couldn’t help but stare at his green eyes. They were mesmerizing. I understood why men wished to be him. He wasn’t just handsome! He was—gorgeous. Even I wished I had such shoulder length white hair. Finally, he spoke, interrupting my thoughts as he grabbed my attention. “She’ll do!” For a minute, I couldn’t understand. My parents’ faces lit up like what he said was worth rejoicing over.

I was reaching for the fourth when a voice like warm honey interrupted my self-destruction. "Mind if I buy you something that won't eat a hole through your stomach?" I turned, and whatever sarcastic response I'd prepared died on my lips. The man standing beside my barstool was beautiful in a way that made my breath catch. Tall—probably six-two or six-three—with broad shoulders that filled out his expensive-looking suit jacket perfectly. Dark hair that looked like he'd run his fingers through it, sharp cheekbones that could cut glass, and eyes the color of storm clouds. This was the kind of man who graced magazine covers and made women stupid with want.

His hair is in a buzz cut style, full, noticeable eyebrows, long lashes, caramel skin tone, and a clean shave with a little mustache that makes you want to think about bed play. A dance to my favourite song, with an angelic man? I would love that. But who is this man? "May I?" He smiles cutely, ignoring how confused I look. He wouldn't bite. Just a dance, right? This could be just what I need, a dance to lift my mood.