Novel & Cerita Ponyboy Shirtless

Bell stammered out a response, something about our plans for the day, but it was the sudden silence that made me look up. Dylan stood in the doorway, shirtless, his chest bare save for the low-hanging basketball shorts that clung to his hips. For a moment, I understood why Bell had been struck speechless. The man looked like he’d just stepped off the cover of a fitness magazine, all hard muscles and tanned skin. “Idiot,” I muttered under my breath, though I wasn’t sure if the insult was meant for him or myself for noticing.

"Mhmm. Keep tellin' yerself that, it might become true one day if you believe hard enough." Once again, Dillon started to get nervous. Tony shirtless and in nothing but shorts would be hard to not drool over. He'd never seen him totally shirtless before either, but he could guess he was godly under that shirt. It wasn't fair! Right off the bat, that had managed to sour part of his trip. Hell, he couldn't even have an innocent back and forth with his friend. It pissed him off, and gave him something more to worry about the whole time.

Okay… so Clinton and Shantel were not exaggerating. I shift my attention to the boy on the floor. He is completely naked, scrambling to gather his clothes, his hands shaking as he tries to pull them on. His face is flushed, eyes watery, and his lips pressed tight like he is holding back more than just anger. I crouch down beside him, setting the tray carefully on the floor. “Hey,” I say, keeping my voice low. “You okay?” He lets out a shaky breath, not even looking at me as he drags his shirt over his head. “I’m fine,” he mutters, though it doesn’t sound like it at all.

He was wearing Gargoyles shades and tan leather work boots, and the two stood near a rust-eaten Dodge truck and a Kawasaki motorcycle sitting in back of the Blazer on the street. “For your information it is not a dickless angel,” said Tommy carefully. “It’s the sun god Apollo. And I wouldn’t talk if I were you, man: I’ve seen you wearing a Poison T-shirt.” “So?” Tommy whistled. “Kid, in my day the only people who listened to Poison were teenyboppers and cream puffs. That’s it.” “Hmph!” “Sorry, but it’s all shit. Once again, shit.” “And this isn’t?” said the kid, gesturing to the winged silkscreen logo on Truitt’s shirt.

In my living room. Yeah. That’s happening. And he’s shirtless. Just. Taking it off. As if it’s nothing. Calm. Cool. Casual. No pounding heart, no awkward fumbles, nothing betraying even the tiniest hint of…temptation. His polo disappears in stages. Slowly, deliberately, almost innocuous, until boom abs. A carved, dangerous landscape. A neat trail of dark hair disappears into the waistband of his jeans. Chest hair patterned in a kind of organized chaos around the nipples. A silver chain drapes across him. A ring. A golden band. Everything about him screams…perfect.

“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.

Once I got his permission, I slip inside the room, but then almost turns back when I saw he was shirtless, with just a white towel covering his waist down. He has a freaking eight packs and narrow waist. Muscles budges across his screen, and one directly lay from his waist and disappear into the towel. He is such a feast to the eyes I almost forget what I was here for. I cover my eyes, embarrassed that I had stare for a good while. "You could have told me you're dressing." "I'm just shirtless. Not a big deal." "I'll wait for you to wear something." "Whatever makes you happy." In less than ten seconds, he told me to turn around as he is done putting on his shirt.

“Run outside naked. One lap around the block.” The room erupted. People screamed, stomped, clapped. “No way!” he laughed but he was already stripping off his shirt. Phones went up instantly as he pulled his pants down, leaving nothing on. He covered his crotch with one hand and sprinted toward the door while the room howled. A few people rushed to the window to film him darting down the street, pale ass flashing in the porch light. When he came back in, sweaty and panting, he got a beer shoved in his hand like a medal. The bottle spun again. It landed on a girl in a red crop top.

His mouth moved like he was going to say something else, but I'd already turned and walked toward the car. The security guard and my assistant immediately picked up on the situation and stepped in to block him. Presley didn't try to charge past them. He just stood rooted to the spot, his eyes glued to my retreating as his face fell. Right before the car door clicked shut, I caught a final glimpse of him in the rearview mirror. He was still standing there, a thin layer of fresh snow settling on his shoulders. He stood there all day. Later, I found out from the security guard that Presley hadn't moved an inch even after darkness fell. It wasn't until his body froze to the point where he couldn

“Nothing is going on between Ponyboy and me.” Jez tilts her head with an incredulous snicker. “Seriously? Come on, girl, that boy is hot. I mean, he might not be in the same league as a certain gorgeous tortured boy that likes to wear a lot of black, but he’s close.” I roll my eyes. “It’s never been like that. Plus, Ponyboy is a player.” Jez slaps her hands over her thigh, sits up on her knees, and faces me. “Maybe that’s what you need.”