Patrick Dempsey Shirtless Novels & Stories

Gripping. "Shit," I whispered, clutching my chest. His chin-length chocolate hair was tousled. He was shirtless with his hard torso on display for my hungry gaze above a pair of red and black, plaid pajama shorts that hung just low enough on his hips to make that V-line mouth-watering. "I didn't know you were home...or shirtless."

A box of pizza and chocolates. ★ “I thought I told you not to follow me?" Damon spoke out but there was no one beside him in the large sitting room but then... “When have I ever listened to what you say, little brother?" A figure materialized in the open. It was Roshan. He was putting on a white long sleeve shirt that was free at the hands and the three up buttons of his shirt were left unbuttoned, revealing his well structured chest. His body below his waist were covered by a black leather, slim fit pants and a dark, long boot that made him look tough. He was looking great actually in his outfit.

Sinong hindi magiging wanton mami sa gwapong nilalang na to? " Do you have any problem Ms. Delos Reyes?" his voice took me back to my reverie. Ngayon ko lang napansin na lahat pala sila ay naka abang sa sasabihin ko. Now I have a full view of his body. Ngayon ko lang napansin na nag palit siya ng damit. Kaninang umaga naka black t shirt lang siya. Now he's wearing a navy blue dress shirt and a pair of black slacks with a designer belt. I clicked my tongue inwardly mayabang din to eh. Like duh? This is a public school gusto niya bang manakawan? Showing off such expensive things will only attract thieves. Whatever it's his choice anyway!

Dawn shook her head. “Let’s start with the good news.” “We have actual clothes. I found two of your shorts in here. They probably got mixed in with mine,” Maxwell said. “But the only shirts we have are these.” He pulled out one extra-large T-shirt with a print that read: [I Put the ‘Max’ in Maximum Pleasure] “And this is yours,” Maxwell said, showing a small-sized shirt that read: [I Survived the Max Attack!]

Not a trace of my own soaked jeans or torn blouse. On the armchair by the bed, neatly folded, was a single item. A crisp white shirt. I didn't need a soothsayer to inform me that it's was damian shirt. I didn't have something else to wear, so I decided to wear this, but as I had it close to myself, his cedar smell intoxicated me. "But what choice do I have?" I got to put on something, I can't go out naked. I bit my lip, grabbed the shirt, and slipped it on. It swallowed me whole, the hem brushing my thighs.

There was clear tension between us, and Damian’s obvious dislike for me made things a bit more complicated. Just as I was about to turn and leave, the door suddenly opened. My heart skipped a beat as I found myself face-to-face with Damian. He stood there shirtless, wearing only a pair of loose trousers that hung low on his hips. His skin glistened with water droplets from a recent shower, and he was in the process of drying his hair with a towel.

He was already there. Damon stood just inside the heavy curtain, his broad shoulders blocking the strobe-lit chaos behind him. He wasn’t in club clothes. He wore dark trousers and a simple white shirt, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, as if he’d come straight from something far more serious. In one hand, held loosely between his fingers like a forgotten cigarette, was the first holy Grail shard.

I paddеd out into thе kitchеn in a shirt and shorts, praying to God hе was gonе. But no. Thеrе hе was. Shirtlеss. Hair wеt from a showеr, wеaring gray swеatpants that clung way too wеll to еvеry thick, dеlicious inch of him. Hе lеanеd against thе countеr, еating cеrеal likе hе didn’t spеnd last night fucking somеonе еlsе whilе whispеring filth into my еar.

I begrudgingly sat up on the bed. “I’ll have you know Desmond that there is nothing wrong in wanting to be comfortable, not like you would understand that with how uptight you are” Desmond crossed his arms, raising an unimpressed eyebrow. He was already dressed in a navy button-down and dark jeans, looking like he belonged on the cover of GQ: Passive-Aggressive Edition. I wonder how he managed to look so put together all of the time, I mean it should be illegal to look as god as he did.

Those hands couldn't sit still. Emerson tugged at Porsche's cloth, hinting at taking it off. When Porsche gave him a slight break from that hungry kiss, Emerson pulled the shirt off, rendering Porsche bare chested. “Take my shirt off.” Another Command Porsche wholly nodded to. While Porsche tackled one button after the other, Emerson worked on Porsche's pants. It was joggers so he only had to undo the ropes. “Damnit,” he cursed, sucking a large amount of air when he felt bare flesh beneath fleece material. He had no briefs on? Shit. Did he even have briefs at all?