Neckline Stubble Novels & Stories

He had a strong jawline that I made me wonder what it would feel like if I traced my tongue along it. His neck was even more enticing, the way his pulse beat against the side of his neck, made my own pulse quicken. His skin was a little rough-looking, yet that didn’t stop me from wondering what it would taste like. Nor did it stop me from wondering what it would feel like to sink my teeth into the side of his neck. Okay, something was seriously wrong with me. Why the hell was I fantasizing about someone I just met? He was beyond hot, in ways that I didn’t think were possible. How could stubble on a guy, that probably hasn’t shaved in a day or two, look attractive?

They need tо be сlеаnеd рrореrlу or ѕhе’ll get an іnfесtіоn. I look mоrе сlоѕеlу аt thе marks оn her neck аnd ѕее thе рrеѕѕurе hе аррlіеd was mоrе thаn ѕіgnіfісаnt. Thеѕе guуѕ weren’t mеѕѕіng аrоund. Her collarbones are ѕо dеlісаtе undеrnеаth thе blаnkеt. Thе hollow at thе base оf hеr nесk shines wіth a ѕmаll gold chain.

I feel like kicking myself. My mouth started to dry as he threw his shirt off. His chiseled pecs led to six-pack abs, which led to a deciduous V. The hairline started from his navel and disappears down his pants was making me wetter. I fixed my attention on his abs. I want to lick them and carve them into my own image.

Manik asked, opening his eyes. Nandini was startled a little. "You're awake?” He just hummed in response. She composed herself and smiled gently. “I was curling your mustache for you.” She stopped for a while before starting once again as Manik didn’t say anything. “By the way, I was just thinking, have you ever thought of trimming your beard? I think it would look nice and it's good to change up styles every now and then. I didn’t see you changing it for a while."

The sides of his hair are shaved to the same length as his sideburns and beard, leaving the top angled to the side. Delicious. “Anyone,” one of the other guys says in a Latin accent. His voice is so deep and smooth it makes my pussy shiver. His hair is pitch black and falls to his shoulders. His sharp chin is covered in stubble. He is not as tall as the first, but just as broad and strong.

Just my luck I would bag the one man in the world who looks hotter with a hangover, not worse, all while I look like crap. His stubble is about 3mm away from beard stage and I reach out and run my fingers across his chin impulsively as soon as he gets close, as though I’m an inquisitive child eager to feel this crazy phenomenon that grows fast on that tanned face. I guess it’s because he’s olive-skinned and foreign with black hair that erupts at the speed of light. He must shave twice a day to keep that baby-faced clean-shaven look he usually sports. I hate to admit, but I like this just as much. It highlights that sexy square jaw and masculine look he so effortlessly has. Makes him even mor

I turned to the mirror. The neckline plunged deep, a narrow V that stopped just above my navel, held together by illusion mesh. The back was entirely open, dipping dangerously low to the curve of my spine but the most scandalous part was the slit, which ran up my left leg, stopping impossibly high, nearly at my hip bone.

My eyes betray me, following a drop that descends from his neck to the center of his chest, where it disappears into the discreet line of hair leading to his navel. His face is a masterpiece of strong features—the angular jaw and the well-groomed beard that enhances the arrogant curve of his mouth. His hair, short and styled back with slight volume on top, gives him an air of calculated dishevelment, as if he's equally at home on a fashion runway or after a wild night. My gaze drops back down his torso, and that's when I notice the tattoos.

The next morning, I awoke at 10, and went to the bathroom to peel off the masque, my face feeling clean and clear. I showered again, re-doing everything except the shaving. There was no stubble yet, so there was no need. I then curled the ends of my hair and sprayed it with very strong hairspray, giving myself a sexy curly style, After I brushed my teeth profusely and rinsed with mouthwash, I got out the corset and thong, putting it on.

A weary smile crept onto my face as I turned to him. Rominic stood at the top of the staircase, arms folded, his biceps bulging with the flex of his muscles. His hair was damp, clinging to his forehead in its curly glory, droplets of water trickling down his face and along his thick, masculine neck. My gaze was pulled irresistibly to a solitary droplet as it traced a path down the side of his neck, gliding over his collarbone and disappearing into the slightly open neckline of his snug shirt. The fabric clung to his body, revealing the contours of his sculpted muscles in a way that was both subtle and undeniably alluring, while the fitted shorts completed his look with an extra touch of sex