Patrick Dempsey Shirtless Novels & Stories

“I wonder if you’ve improved at all.” “Enough talk,” Damon replied, already reaching for the hem of his shirt. He pulled it over his head in one fluid motion, tossing it aside. His torso was lean but muscular, marked with a few scars from previous battles. I’d seen him shirtless plenty of times over the years, but it was still an impressive sight. Not to be outdone, Andrei removed his shirt as well, letting it drop to the ground at his feet. My mouth went dry as, unbidden, thoughts of seeing him completely nude with his cock inside of me just days ago flitted through my mind.

Then, out of nowhere, Soñar appeared from behind him and began to stride toward where I lay. I sat upright, my mouth almost drooling from seeing them shirtless. I could feel the way my eyes bore into the thick lines that formed abs on their stomach, how the lines dissected into one another, and the hardness that I could feel inside of me even as they seemed far from where I lay was thrilling. As I looked on, from the corner of my vision, I could see Dashiell emerge from a makeshift door. He was shirtless, but he had a towel wrapped around his waist to cover his private parts.

I refused to dwell on it too much. With a deep breath, I reached for one of Demetri’s oversized white shirts draped over the chair nearby. The fabric was soft, slightly worn, and carried his scent. I slipped it on, not bothering with pants, just my underwear beneath it. The hem of the shirt barely grazed the tops of my thighs as I pushed myself off the bed, stretching slightly before heading downstairs. As I reached the dining area, I found him standing by the table, setting down plates of food. His messy hair, slightly damp, suggested he had already taken a shower. He was wearing a plain black shirt that clung to his form, accentuating the sharp angles of his body.

“But you need to eat. I will get something for you after bathing you.” I looked down at my legs and thighs. There were angry red marks everywhere. It was as if he marked me so much to let everyone know that I was his. I did not hate it. I just wished I could leave marks on him too. No one would see them though since Demian never took his clothes off in front of anyone or wore something that would reveal those marks. I had never seen Demian wearing anything other than full-sleeved shirts with a cloak on top. He sometimes skipped the cloak, but that was rather rare.

He gives her a dap and a bro-hug. "It just keeps getting weirder and weirder." I think. He's shirtless, in nothing but grey camo knickers, the white waistband of his underwear peeking through to say hello. Amanda doesn't even flinch, she returns the hug as if she hugs sweaty boys for a living. Then finally, it's my turn.

I suddenly heard him. I cleared my throat and entered. In order not to make it seem like I heard anything, I thought an apology would be nice. "I'm really sorry, Sir. I was waiting for you to finish." I said as I entered. Damon was wearing a big black net shirt with an inner black singlet. This in turn was worn over baggy black jeans. Wait, was my death to him some sort of fashion runway where he showed off his glam? Hell, he was killing this look and I was certain that I would not mind this look in my funeral.

I shut the door when the two walk away. My eyes skim slowly up the large, yummy male body standing before me. He's wearing black loafers, black pants, and a long-sleeved white dress shirt unbuttoned halfway down his remarkable chest. His muscles bulge beneath the shirt, which makes the entire package sexier. They aren't the over the top muscles of a competing body builder but with a little oil, he could make a statement. His skin is darker than a suntan would provide and I guess he has Native American, Hispanic, or another darker-skinned race somewhere in his bloodline. He's gorgeous. I've heard the rumors about him through the BDSM grapevine but seeing Damian in person is different. For the

Damon. He was leaning casually against the wall, his leg crossed at the ankles and his arms folded across his chest. He had on sweat pants low enough to reveal the waistband of his Kelvin Klein underwear and oh my God, he was shirtless. His gaze was fixed on me and I could tell now that they must have been for a while. How long has he been standing there? Watching me.

With all the sin, I was sure that I will never see heaven but if I feel it on earth then that's amazing. "Ok if you are done, boss has called you", David said. This man is not at all respectful. I will make them, everyone of them. I nodded an dwalked behind him. He took me to the gym and I was stunned. Damon was the only man working out, shirtless. His muscles running and excercizinglike a fluent machine. His face was sweaty and there was a sweat drop hunging on his chin. He was in shorts and his big thing was thick.

Fearing that Shelton would be sleeping, I decided to send him a text this morning. I turned on the computer. Patrick went downstairs as soon as I clicked open the software. Wearing the same clothes as yesterday, he didn't tie his tie. Draping his shirt on his body roughly, he only buttoned three or four buttons without tying the shirt with his belt. The neckline was wide open, revealing a sturdy pectoral muscular line. Her hair hadn't been dried yet. And the water drops fell on his shirt all the way down his short hair, drop by drop.