Patrick Bateman Shirtless Novels & Stories

POV: Clayton "Home first," I say, pulling the truck out of the Hamura’s parking lot. "You need a shower, and I think you’ll feel better if you aren't wearing the same 'concert' clothes you’ve been in for thirty-six hours." Zia looks down at her Batman shirt. "What? This is a classic." But she doesn't argue.

God who was this Pierce and what had he done with my unfeeling, no emotion showing Pierce? “I was actually hoping on Angie’s presence today to get rid of this badger on my face, could you…help me with it?” I paused, the image of me over a shirtless, a razor pressed to his skin as I exposed his sexy, utterly lickable jawline. Why was he shirtless in my head? Did people need to get shirtless to shave? “I would leave it longer but it’s really starting to bother me. Itching and all that.” He added impishly.

“Where’s Cotton? Give her back!” Zephyr said, “Cotton is fine. She’s fine, but she did bite Nancy.” I had no time to watch them flirt. I just wanted to go downstairs as soon as possible. That guilty look on Nancy’s face gave me a bad omen. When I arrived at the parking lot, I immediately saw Patrin, but she did not dare meet my gaze. “Where’s Cotton?” I rushed over and asked. Patrin seemed to be in a great state of panic. After trying a few times, she finally managed to open the boot.

His warm breath made her skin tingle. Please let go of me, she thought to herself but didn't dare to say it out loud. He slowly removed his arm and faced her. She took a good look at him. He looked completely different from the office. He wasn't wearing his usual attire, which consisted of a suit and tie. Instead, he wore a plain black t-shirt with jeans which he paired with a fleece jacket. The t-shirt tightly hugged his body, showing every curve of his muscles. He had his sleeves rolled up, revealing his muscular forearms. Faith tried not to feel flustered. She knew Anthony was well-built, but it was hard to tell underneath the suit.

I bought a white short sun dress with strappy white sandals. Zachary got knee length shorts and patterned colored dress shirt. When we met each other we both checked each other out. The dress shirt was not buttoned and I could see Zachary's abs obviously. I looked at him strangely, he looked back because he taught I was looking at something else. I was trying to recall the first time I saw Zachary shirtless, he had abs right ? If he did why am I noticing now ?

As quick as it had started, he pulled away, ending anything before it got started. I turned at the rustling of fabric behind me. He stood before me, a shirtless god, all hard muscles and tattoos. His charcoal gray, slim fit tailored dress pants hugging his body perfectly. He gave a smirk as he turned and thumbed through his shirts, searching for the perfect match for his mood. He pulled a dark burgundy shirt off of a hanger and slid it over his body. I stood transfixed as he rolled the sleeves up his forearms, leaving his tattooed forearms bare. He made no move to hide his burning gaze as he left the top three buttons undone showing the delicious skin of his collarbone and a tattoo of a Celt

I was happy that he was safe and sound. I had found him walking along the highway. He had one of those cliché hobo sacs slung across his shoulder. His face was smeared with a mixture of dirt and sweat. His cheeks were cherry red and his curly hair was matted with sticks. It really wasn't much for me to save him, but I felt good that I had, even though everyone besides Brian thought it had been Batman. "You're such a snake!" Brian exclaimed quietly, not wanting to upset the policeman driving the cruiser. "I mean, I've always wanted to dress up as Batman and fight crime or help people, but you actually did! That deserves some kind of medal!"

It took a second to adjust to the gloom when I patted my lashes, my breath caught in my throat and my eyes dilated in surprise. Directly in front of me, was Adrian. He was shirtless, his muscular back glistening with droplets of water, and his pants were unbuttoned, the zipper halfway down. He hadn't noticed me yet; he was too preoccupied with fumbling with his belt, his movements hurried and tense. "What the fuck? You should get out?" He yelled at whoever must have been with him inside the bathroom

He was wearing khaki shorts and a Hawaiian shirt, and she had on a short leather skirt with dark stockings and spiked heels, a white blouse that displayed a generous amount of braless cleavage, and a short string of pearls around her neck. The next photo showed Beth sitting in the theater with strangers in the seats on either side of her. One had his pants down to his ankles, and the other had his boner pulled out through his fly. Beth had a hand wrapped around each of their dicks. Their hands were on her tits, which were on full display through her open blouse.

“I don’t use other people’s clothes.” Then I recalled a video YouTube kept suggesting but I’d never watched, simply because the title was just too ludicrous: Every Time Brandon Price Took His Shirt Off While Investigating, or something like that. The thumbnail didn’t offer much detail, but it was plain to see it was a collage with at least six different pictures. Meaning he’d done it more than once or twice. So I decided to try my luck. “Well, it’s warm in here, and bet your fans will love the chance of seeing you without your shirt again.”