Patrick Bateman Shirtless Novels & Stories

“Blake I mean it, I cannot be tempted by you right now so go change into some shorts or something.” He put his head down as if he was a lost puppy and I laughed to myself as I pulled at some soft black jersey shorts, my pink sports bra as this dress did not allow for a bra, and a large sweatshirt that if I squirmed would allow you to see my shoulder a time or too but oh so comfortable. Perfect for fire and s’mores! I looked over at Blake and he was rummaging through a dresser across the room. It seemed he had clothes just for the beach house versus everywhere else, of course, a billionaire would. I rolled my eyes but also took my chance as he seemed occupied to slip off my coat jacket and pu

Ben straightened up and looked at the still surprised Shane, he needed to remind him that time was not on their side “Shane it is now or never, just man up, okay. Pull up your sleeves in fact take off that stupid shirt off. So that you can remain with a vest .I want you to show them, this beautiful abs you always showcase to those prostitute. I think today they have found a better use.” He finished saying and then ruffled his hair playfully not worried the death stare Shane was giving him.

I’m excited to see what surprise Ethan has in store for me. “Done!” I call out as I leave the bathroom in my robe to check if Ethan is done with his bath as well. But what I see is beyond all expectations. Ethan Reed, wearing nothing but black dress pants. His back was to me but it certainly is enough to tempt anyone. The muscles of his broad back flex as he puts on a shirt to match. “Keira! Here! Have a seat on the bed, please,” he says and turns without buttoning his shirt, giving me a full display of his toned abs and chest.

I thought to myself, trying to hide the laughter that was trying to show on my face. Ben, on the other hand, was wearing a black shirt and black trousers, although he had a gown on top of them to distinguish him from humans. He was so smart and handsome. His chiseled chest, broad shoulders, toned muscles, six packs, and an attractive, charming face made him the heartthrob of millions of girls in the human world. They just freaked out for him.

"She’s like an angel." I forced a smile, my cheeks burning as I walked over to Paxton. He was already in the pool, wearing nothing but a tight pair of black boxers that did absolutely nothing to hide his tattoos—or the bulging huge cock. My breath caught for a moment. "Come on, let’s swim," he said, grinning as he stretched his hand out to me.

As I jot down the time of the party to recollect it, Amber exclaims, "OMG, who is that incredibly attractive guy?" Curious to see who Amber is talking about, I turn to see, and my mouth falls open in disbelief. It is Nate about to walk past us in the corridor. He is no longer wearing his nerd glasses or his head covered with his hoodie. He wears a dark green long-sleeve shirt that shows off his six-pack and the brawny features of his body. He pulls up the sleeves on his long arm—not enough to reveal his tattoo. His fitted black pants reveal the length of his leg, and dark shoes complement his outfit. He's taller than every guy in the school I've known, and his black hair is low-cut.

“Hope I’m not interrupting.” Out of defiance, Cato finished the kiss before he slowly pulled away. “You would have to be important to be an interruption. And you aren’t important.” Bates was in a black suit, dangerous and handsome like his brother. He had the same eyes and the same coldness—but he was definitely more arctic. His hands were in his pockets, and he glanced at me with obvious dislike. “I have Mr. Wong on a conference call. Thought you’d want to say a few words.”

I assured him. “I’m here at a souvenir shop. Will that be enough?” “Hmm, you have to tell me the color of your shirt so that he can recognize you right away,” I told him. “I am shirtless and just wearing a board short and a slipper. Black cap and black sunglass.” Did he have to include the fact that he was shirtless? I took a deep breath while trying not to imagine his overall appearance at the moment, but I could sense from his voice that he was handsome.

He had just one tattoo drawing, on his heart area, like a comic parody of — is that Cat Woman? And more than that, he emitted a darker aura than the other two. For the love of God, are those abs even real? They were all so fucking ripped, like those men who give hardcore BDSM fucks in those p**n videos I watch with Gilda. Oh gosh! Was this the sex suite? The one sitting seemed ripped, as his shirt fit him like a glove, stretching out his muscles, and also the one standing with a phone, he was fucking ripped. But the one dressed in black and had a shirt on his shoulder? He was fucking shredded. A buff fellow, my God!

I stride in, calculating each step just in case he's as pissed as Michelle was. “Camilla.” I jump when he says my name because I can't see him. A second later he comes into frame. I suck in a breath trying not to stare at him, he is shirtless, wearing a pair of charcoal grey pajama pants. I try not to gawk at him but I find myself watching his upper body, my gaze trails on his tattoos, so flawlessly inked on his ever glowing skin. The mark of the pack sitting right above his bicep.