Rider Strong Shirtless Novels & Stories

Vanessa's POV Shirtless Rodri should be illegal. Obscene. My lips had parted in pure awe. His skin was a deep tan, like the rest of him, and his manly chest were a mile wide. His laddered abs were so ripped, tight and defined that they glistened under his perspiring skin. His black gym shorts hung low on his waist, and I could see the designer brand of the black briefs he had on under. I stopped my eyes from exploring further down before the last of my purity is stolen by his sinful body.

Standing there was Victor, spreading his undeniable charm; except he was shirtless, with a towel wrapped around his waist, dangerously low. Oh, what the....

Then the crowd reacting in that particular way they did when something was genuinely impressive, not polite impressed, actually stunned into it. We got close enough to see. There was a man in the middle of the platform. No shirt. Sweat running down his chest and over a torso that was all muscle and ink, tattoos crawling up his ribs and across his shoulders and down both arms. Four men were around him, or what was left of them. Two were already on the floor. One was swinging and missing. The fourth hung back like he was reconsidering every decision he had made tonight. The man in the middle moved like he wasn’t working hard at all. He caught a punch, turned it, put the man down in two moves t

His chest and abs were on full display—all defined muscle and tanned skin with a few scars scattered across them. "Wear this," he said, tossing me the shirt. "I'll go change up." I caught it automatically, my fingers curling into the soft fabric. "You plan to go shirtless?" "Yeah." He nodded, already washing his hands in the sink. "Why? You jealous?" I scoffed loudly, pulling his shirt over my head. It smelled like him—leather and pine and something distinctly Knox. "I won't be the one jealous. Axel will be." Knox chuckled, the sound deep and genuine. He shook the water from his hands and reached for my discarded skirt on the floor when we both heard it.

I kept my eyes on the ring of me wished I hadn't. Of course, my inner Six's number one fan would have a different story to tell. He was dressed in shorts and sneakers fixing the ropes or something of a sort, but I was preoccupied with watching his back muscles flex with every move he made. Yes, he was shirtless in all his glory, and by God, I don't think normal human beings look like this. There was a dragon tattooed down his whole back.

Pamela struggled to hide her groan. Before them stood a shirtless DJ. His left hand clung tightly onto the handle of a tool box. He looked as though he was pulled out from the covers of men's magazines. His strong muscled chest, oily with sweat and his well defined chisel Adonis V was a sight to behold. Ashley swallowed. She had never seen him shirtless. She had never seen him this indecently sexy. “Ashley?” DJ called, surprise filled his tone. “DJ, I think -” A feminine voice called from behind Ashley and Pamela.

"This will allow everyone to observe your movements more clearly." Without a word, Cyrus nodded and began peeling off his shirt. His muscles, honed by countless hours of training, were well-defined and glistened under the midday sun. His skin shimmered with a light sheen of sweat, a testament to the intensity of the session. The other werewolf fighters, without questioning the command, followed suit, discarding their own shirts one by one.

A heads up would have been nice. I shove the phone back into my pocket before he notices. Stepping into the ring, I grit my teeth as Asher shrugs off his shirt. Of course. He stands there in nothing but a pair of shorts, toes sinking into the sand. But I refuse to check him out, refuse to acknoledge those tanned defined abs, the deep v lines and broad back and many more of his other rippling muscles. “Are you ready?” His voice pulls my gaze back up his expression neutral.

My unfinished story. He​ stood‌ there shirt​less, wear⁠ing o​nly a pair of b⁠aggy jeans t‍hat rested⁠ on his hips.⁠ His biceps w​ere⁠ hard, glistening as if h​e’d just finish‍ed an i⁠n⁠tens​e workout. His‌ abs—thos​e same abs I once ran my hands across—were righ‍t t​here. R​eal.‍ Cl⁠ose. To⁠o close.

she was shirtless with only her bra and underwear straddling Ryder on her bed, with moan and kisses. Damn. Ryder was equally shirtless and down to his boxer and very much clueless to the storm waiting to descend on the both of them. Fucking hell.