Rayne Woods Nude Novels & Stories

he asked. I closed my eyes when I sensed Ryan was going to shift. Of course I was desperate to look, he obviously wanted me to look. But I couldn’t bring myself to do it. “I was afraid you guys would … I thought you guys might…” I trailed off. “That we’d what,” Ryan asked, he sounded stunned. My eyes opened involuntarily and there stood my beefy mate, naked in all his glory. All of it. He had a few tattoos but he wasn’t covered like Nate was, not even close.

Crowd chanted perfect: “FUCK! FIGHT! FUCK! FIGHT! FUCK! FIGHT!” I stood right at the fence—Nikon Z9, long fast lens, shutter going like a gun, sweat down my back, nipples hard from the raw feel. I’m Riven Kane—28, used to write about bikes, now shoot secret nights for cash, always after the shot that could kill me or make me rich. That’s when I saw her. Lourdes “Lula” Reyes—24, dirty white tank stuck to perfect tits, tiny jean shorts so short the pockets showed more, long legs, black hair messy on top.

Instead, I walk straight inside his cabin with my best smile. I see hotty's back, his legs on the window's frame in a relaxing posture. Suddenly I feel calm seeing him relaxing in his seat. I wonder what he looks like in sweatpants and a normal tee. I notice the moaning and panting sound engulfed in the room which is coming from hotty's phone. I look closely and see two naked bodies humping on his phone's screen. No, fucking. He is watching them having sex. He is watching P**N! IN HIS PHONE. IN HIS OFFICE! OPENLY!

A few seconds later, the door opened. Snow hissed, “Damn it. Shameless!” On the screen, Ray appeared—wrapped in nothing but a bath towel. His upper body was bare, skin still slick with water, droplets clinging to his defined abs and sharp collarbones. Pectoral muscles tense, short wet hair plastered to his forehead, he looked like something straight off a glossy magazine cover. This wasn’t just casual. This was deliberate. Practically an invitation. Snow gritted her teeth. This man has no shame.

I still felt like absolute shit. I blinked again, trying to clear my vision, and that’s when I saw him. Rayne. Sitting at my bedside. He didn’t notice I was awake, his eyes fixed on the screen of his laptop, his fingers moving quickly across the keyboard. He’d showered. That much was obvious. His blonde hair was damp, curling a little at the ends, and he wore a simple black T-shirt and pants that somehow made him look even more handsome than when he was dressed to kill. I hated how effortlessly attractive he was.

It must be the vodka. Has to be the damn thing really kicking in now. Because my eyes won't stop roaming eover very mouthwatering piece of this man's body. And that's when it hits me. This man is almost nude— save the tattoo perfectly sitting on his chest, flexing his abs and pectorals. Other than that, it's just a tiny towel wrapped around his waist, looking like it might snap loose at the slightest movement. Holy hell, I'm so freaking done for! Is this Lyra girl not just a stripper but a whore?

Rayne looked up at me with blood smeared all over her face but it didn’t matter because all I could see was her beautiful blue eyes, “You’re naked.” I chucked, “And so are you.”

She even had a decent social media following; just under a million followers on I*******m alone. Despite how well Ruby had been doing for herself, Connor's friends didn't seem to care much about her acting talent as they did about how hot she was. Mostly, they seemed to care about the nude scenes that she had done over the years. Ruby appeared nude in three movies and in one episode of the TV show she got famous for. All but one of those scenes were tasteful and essential to the plot.

“It’s perfectly safe. This side is private.” She eased the shorts and top out of her, leaving her in a turquoise bikini. With Luke’s hawk-like gaze watching every move of hers, Brynne felt acutely aware of herself. Although he had seen her naked many times, she blushed at his appraisal. Slowly turning around, she faced him and a delicious thrill went up her spine. It was obvious he was again aroused to the point of no return. How could his swimming trunk hide his massive arousal?

The screen lit up with hundreds of notifications, tags, comments, direct messages, group chats blowing up. None from Ryan though. My thumb trembled as I opened the first one. The photo filled the screen. There I was, outside the club, leaning heavily into Damon’s chest. His dark jacket draped over my shoulders, one of his hands steady on my waist, the other supporting my arm. My brunette hair was messy, eyes half-closed, lips parted in what looked far too intimate under the light. The caption screamed in bold letters: Vienne Reyes moved on FAST. From Ryan Knox to scholarship boy in one night?