Sam Russo Nudes Novels & Stories

"Is that a nude?" Lucas’s voice cut through the late morning stillness like a blade. Nico flinched. The phone in his hand trembled slightly as he stared at the message on the screen. A shirtless photo from some random guy on I*******m, accompanied by a cheeky caption: *"Bet your boyfriend doesn’t make you moan like I could." Lucas had come up behind him too fast..too quietly. And now, silence stretched between them like a noose tightening.

Rita says. “We don’t have to do anything neither of you are comfortable with,” I say, but Lena is already pulling her hoodie off and exposing her gorgeous, ample breasts. Rita helps her out of her bra and kisses her while squeezing her breasts. I pull my shirt off and Lena’s eyes widen as she takes in my muscular tattooed and pierced form. Her eyes trail down my body and I see lust swirling in their depths. SHe gestures for me to join them and I step closer, trapping Rita between us and pulling at the hem of her shirt, which she allows me to pull over her head easily.

Panic hit me fast. The door opened with a soft click. Vincenzo Rossi stepped in like he owned the air itself. Tall, broad-shouldered, dressed in a black shirt with the sleeves rolled up to show powerful forearms covered in tattoos. His dark eyes locked on me immediately, a slow, dangerous smile spreading across his face. “Morning, Leo. Sleep well?” “You son of a bitch,” I snarled, pulling at the chains again. “Let me go right now. My father will burn your entire empire to the ground for this.”

the second image was a nightmare come to life. It clearly showed me lying back on the grass, my shirt messed up, and Noah Kensington, the golden boy, the billionaire heir, on his knees between my legs, his head buried in my crotch, clearly sucking my dick. The world started spinning, and sheer panic crashed over me, making my knees go weak. I felt like I was going to throw up right there on the ice. Someone else had been watching us, and out of all people, it had to be Tobias Russo.

The sun filtered through the curtains, making the room feel warm and lazy, like anything could happen. Roseanne was stuck between my thighs, forcing me to take nude pics of her so she could send to her asshole boyfriend named Jake. She laughed at me, flashing her teeth as she struck another pose. Fingers pressing hard against her left nipple while her eyes rolled to the back of her head.

I leave the altar and rush to grab one brochure from a nearby guest and open it. And my soul leaves my body. There I am on page one. Naked... everything on display. With another one of my side partners on top of me. My back, my tattoos, the curve of my body, all caught in perfect, high-resolution detail. Another photo depicts me in a hot tub with a pair of individuals from training camp, intoxicated, plus a blurred girl performing inappropriate actions within a public spa. My chest turns to ice. The next page is worse.

Floor-to-ceiling windows showed the city pulsing below like a living organism in heat. Rafael Santos, 41, stood naked in the dim golden light of the penthouse. The powerful Brazilian businessman and former underground fighter had a sculpted, sun-bronzed body covered in faint scars. His massive cock stood thick and heavy, the veined shaft curving upward aggressively, the fat swollen head already leaking thick strings of precum that dripped slowly onto the polished marble floor. He had chosen his two offerings carefully.

The sheet fell to my lap, exposing my naked breasts. “I really want you right now, but I need to kill first whoever is behind that door.” He groaned, sitting up. My reaction was instant. My heart raced. My eyes bulged. Was he serious? “Go to the bathroom. That’s probably Marco.” Carrying his gun, he got up from bed completely naked and man, he was damn hot. His body was like a sculpture by Giuseppe De Fabris. Those thighs were molded with pure muscles to perfection to his firm ass.

He was sure what he was doing would leave a mark on his skin. Now Alexander understood why Dylan wasn't feeling well. Earlier in the office, he was not in a good mood because he didn't get to sate his libido. In that case, he couldn't do it on his own when he entered the bathroom earlier. He carelessly took off his full sleeve shirt. Some of its buttons had fallen off because he was anything but gentle. Alexander actually felt nervous at this moment, despite having bedded countless men and women. He had always been a top, after all. But he was excited for the new experience awaiting him... and his ass.

Russo’s Counterstrike The ashtray overflowed. Russo sat alone in his penthouse study, the Milan skyline stretching beyond glass walls. Neon bled across his desk, illuminating half a dozen empty glasses. He hadn’t changed since the council meeting; his black coat still hung from his shoulders, his shirt collar unbuttoned, and the silk tie loosened and crooked. The photographs he’d used to corner Councillor Bianchi were scattered on the floor, trampled. Worthless now.