Peyton List Bare Feet Novels & Stories

"Yeah, I imagine the great Tyler Blackfoot has never worn a pair." I try to think back in my memory bank. Have I ever seen him wear them? "You know you're right, but as I think back I'm not even sure I've seen his bare toes. He always wears socks." "Maybe he just doesn't like feet," Wild takes up for Dad. "That's a possibility, they are pretty nasty." "Hence why I don't wear flip flops, but when you come to the beach, you have to do as the locals do."

I pull my right leg up as far as my hand can reach and unzip my boot. I repeat the process with my left boot and soon I am free of my clothes except for my panties. I hook my thumbs into the sides of my panties and let them slide down my legs. I walk over to the bed with its dark red sheets and lie down on it. It doesn't take long and soon Ethan walks in through the door that I didn't bother to close. He looks glorious in his jeans and bare feet. I just love the sight of his bare feet!

Profile pictures can be faked, and usernames can be changed, but photos can't lie. In her posts, I saw Zachary in places I had never been. A side profile of him wearing glasses, working on his laptop at a massage parlor. His hand intertwined with someone else's in a hotel room. A picture of him strolling through a mall, looking far too comfortable with someone by his side. There were even pictures of him in an unfamiliar bedroom, and in every photo, his face was either turned away or blurred in the background. Her most recent post was from the day I woke up after my accident. It was taken inside Zachary's car.

“A few poses are best for this bed.” “Fuck it.” I playfully reject it. “Let me cook.” My team cheers, so does he. “I love this fire.” He sets down his camera on the edge of the pool and starts taking off his clothes to step in for better shots. He strips his shirt, baring his tatted chest. Next is his ripped jean shorts, slippers… Barefoot, he tantalizingly wriggles his toes, exposing the soft, pillowy toe mounds, the clean sole of his feet from the small exercise. When he sets both feet flat on the tiled floor, I gulp dryly.

I point to the heels I had abandoned in the doorway. “Because those shoes are evil and I am pretty sure they were biting my feet off or something. Sadly, they are part of my uniform at work.” I explain. He raises an eyebrow. “Biting your feet off? Surely they can't be THAT bad...” he trails off. I lift my foot up and pull off my bunny slipper to reveal the blisters and red marks that marr the pale skin of my foot. “They are definitely that bad.” I state as I hold my foot up so he can see. It is almost comical how horrified Bellamy looks. He actually leans forward and grabs my foot, pulling it towards himself.

It feels comfortable to be in it but I feel too exposed for my liking. Leaving the safety of the hut, I trudge forward seeking their packhouse. Do they not possess one for I seem to be lost on his lands for all I see are numerous tents and small wooden houses and huts. It is so distinct from home, it baffles me. There is no wolf in sight and I commence to hunt for a source of life. I remarked they do neither own nor use any shoes, I am provided with none either. I must tour their soil bare feet, is this why Phobos motivated me to do so when I was a pup claiming it was a way to be wild and free?

I stated. The Fayte’s have bigger feet. Only little Delilah could fit into the flats I’d given her. “I can’t wear these.” Crista frowned. “Looks like you and I got big feet.” Persephone smiled, shrugging as she wiggled her bare toes on the carpet.

' Lisa twitched the corners of her lips. Like a gentleman, Brad held her smooth and small fet in his large palm and slipped the slippers in them. Lisa was dumbfounded. This man changed his aura just for this. He could have told her instead of scaring her. "You can't roam around with bare foot. Understood?" Brad sternly said. Lisa nodded her head in a trance. "If you need job, you can come to me bit you don't have to sell your body." Brad harshly said. His words piercing her heart.

I want her like a man whose restraint has finally snapped. And it’s only been a few days. A week at most. But it’s been excruciating. I’ve been hard more often than I pee. I tried everything — cold showers, yoga, working at the club, choking the chicken. Nothing works. She sent me a photo. Just now. Right before the ceremony. A close-up of her feet. Toenails painted in the same peach-pink shade as the flowers. Minimalist. Bare. Innocent. And I? I ache.

I tuck the sock a bit lower on my calf, so it’s not visible before repeating the process on my right foot. “It’s like Eli knows me. I mean really knows me,” Peyton declares. “These red booties are perfect. They’re soft, maybe calfskin. I mean I’d buy something like them. Wouldn’t I?” I nod. I can’t believe Eli bought two pairs of expensive boots on a whim. “Ready?” Peyton asks me with a bright smile. “No,” I state honestly. “C’mon,” she tugs on my arm. “Can you believe we’re hanging out with a famous rock band?”