Sam Hartman Nude Novels & Stories

"My mom stayed over and messed it up, so I replaced it." He sounded totally normal. Not a crack in his voice. "Anyway, I booked us a place for tonight. Dress up, okay? I wanna see my gorgeous wife properly." I hung up, but the longer I sat with it, the worse it felt. Finally, I posted on social media: [Just got back from a six-month business trip. Found my hamster dead, lungs completely black. Suspect someone's been smoking at home—or worse. Should I suspect my husband of cheating?]

The four Hart brothers, men who usually operated as a united front of cold, corporate dominance, were openly competing for every inch of my space. Damon wouldn't let go of my hand. Every time a high-profile photographer leaned in, Damon’s thick, muscular body pressed against my side, his dark head bending down to whisper something low and husky against the curve of my neck, making my pulse hammer against the emerald diamonds around my throat. "You look breathtaking tonight, little bird," Damon whispered, his lips practically skimming my earlobe. The hot velvet of his voice sent a shiver straight down to my thighs. "Look at them staring at you. They think you're ours... and they're right."

Samantha sat in her bra and panties, more relaxed than the week before. She seemed comfortable being seen that way now. Wine and something deeper made her loose. William watched her openly. Hunger sat plainly in his eyes. He pushed boundaries with his words. He wanted to see how far he could go. “Your wife has an incredible body, John,” he said while smiling at her. His gaze never left her skin. “Thank you,” I replied. “You should see her completely nude.” “John,” Samantha gasped, laughing as she threw a napkin at me. Her cheeks burned.

"Maybe he is having sex with a beauty." Rose nudged Camellia playfully. "Camellia, don't overdo it. You might regret it later." Camellia waved her hand, smiling without saying a word, then typed on the keyboard: "Herman, how's my figure?" After a while, there was some movement on the line, and unexpectedly, a naked picture of Herman was sent over. It was artistically shot, but his expressionless face still exuded a sinister air. Camellia, "..."

" Niamh plopped down next to Harvey, now wearing only a black lace tank top that showed her bare waist. Her pants sat low on her hips, and the drawstrings from her underwear peeked out visibly. Harvey's expression froze. His sharply defined features went rigid as he shut his eyes, trying to keep control. Niamh reached over and gave his chest a playful shove. "Come on, just take something off! Don't be all shy about it. You're a grown man, not some delicate flower." The next second, Niamh went for his clothes. "Look at you, your face is covered in sweat. You're gonna get heat stroke at this rate! Ugh, here—let me help you!"

It was all lace, see-through, with tiny shorts that exposed the lower part of my butt, and the top was a lace camisole with padding that barely covered my ample breasts. "Fuck, Samantha!" You're fucking with me! Heitor knelt on the bed again, and I could see the growing bulge in his underwear. "I want to see the back." "But I didn't see your back," I joked. Heitor got out of bed and out of the camera's focus, turned the camera to face a leather armchair, and when he came back on camera, he was on his back and completely naked. I wanted to squeeze that ass. He slowly turned around and faced me.