Sinful Shirt Novels & Stories

Bianca looked apologetically at Frost's shirt, knowing that it must be expensive and custom-made, with the bottom embroidered with a floral letter "L" "Usually, I can wear my shirt three times, but now I can get a new one ahead of schedule!" Frost replied. "That's so wasteful! Take it off, I promise to clean it for you, at least another 30 times!" Although this behaviour had never belonged to Frost, he still cooperated and took off his shirt, revealing a white short-sleeved T-shirt made of island cotton underneath, which clung to his lean figure. However, Bianca had cried so hard just now that her tears and snot had seeped through the shirt and dirtied the T-shirt.

I don’t think so. With a heavy heart, I turned off the shower and sighed heavily, anxiety began blocking my chest, but I kept on breathing heavily to survive. I walked out of the shower and wore a dress given to me by Jennifer. It was a floral dress with vibrant colours. I was sure she never wore this because it still had tags on. Also, she said she would take me shopping which I tried declining the offer but she was hellbent on making me in debt to her. I wondered if she was still living up to her decision.

The shirt, though, the shirt didn't even make it over my belly: it was baggy up-top and tight over my stupid, fat stomach. I've decided for now on, I am no longer going to be wearing anything that exposes me in the slightest, even though I am cooped up in this room all day with nothing to do, or anyone to impress. This whole past two weeks, I've just become so uncomfortable in my skin and it won't stop. I guess it doesn't help when I'm already thinking about who my husband was or is fucking and how much prettier they are than me. For godsakes, I saw her, I saw the woman he screwed right in that bed with my two own eyes!

The morning sun didn’t shine through the glass walls of Blackwell Tower. It burned. Harsh and golden against the matte black blinds that did nothing to soften its blaze. Inside the penthouse office, the atmosphere was colder than the winter wind outside. Frederick stood with his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, crisp white shirt fitted perfectly over his lean frame, the top buttons undone. A dark steel tie hung loosely from his neck, forgotten, the knot undone after his third heated call with international security. His slacks were black, tailored to a dangerous sharpness, and his Rolex glinted as he shifted his weight, eyes narrowed on the conference table cluttered with classified document

"Clean off your body with sand. Call us back once you are dressed." "My shirt?" I asked as I held up the ensanguined shirt. For some reason, I felt the desert camouflage pattern was ruined. "He can go shirtless," Priya suggested quickly. Mona and Rachel nodded. 'Showered in pig's blood'...I didn't recall seeing that on a Cosmo sex quiz. I shuddered to think whose sexual survey would...oh, right, it was on the Satan's Sluts' To-do List.

The suit's fabric embraced his form with precision, sculpting his frame in a way that conveyed strength and elegance in equal measure. The darkness of his attire was punctuated by a bold statement: a deep red shirt that accentuated his confidence. The top buttons of the shirt remained undone, revealing a tantalizing glimpse of his tattooed chest. The inked patterns danced across his skin, a testament to a hidden side of him that few were privy to witness. The intricate designs told stories of his past, a tapestry of experiences woven into the very fabric of his being.

She releases his hair and the hint of victory plays on his lips before he frowns. "You're a menace." She sticks her tongue out, straightens her dress then walks towards me. "I don't need to pull your hair to get a confession out, do I?" "I talked to him." Tony is out of earshot. "Mia." "He had this hoodie and cargos. All black. He seemed worn out, but even exhaustion looked good on him. Then he placed a gold chain over his neck to stand out. A cross in the middle." "Mia." "What. Did. You. Do?"

Come on , Mandy, you're supposed to be the Albert Einstein of my life yet can't comprehend on how a shirt works? " Of course! I mean, what else are you going to do with a shirt if not wear it?" I gave her a weary look. " What does this 'miracle shirt' of your look like? Is it too sexy? Too revealing , seeing as you love such shirts on me . Will it make me look like a prostitute? Or is it one that your ex girlfriend's wore before she dumped you-" " Just..." I found myself grabbing on to her shoulders, effectively shutting her up as my fingers reflexively squeezed into the soft, warm flesh of her pectoral muscles. " Stop talking and let me go grab you the shirt. "

Christian’s eyes darkened like he could see straight into my mind, but he didn't say anything else. "Thank you for your help last night, Mr Sinclair. I sincerely apologize for my inappropriate behavior and for any inconvenience I may have caused." I looked down at my oversized shirt attire that belonged to him. "I'll just change my clothes now and leave. I'll make sure to send the shirt back after getting it cleaned." I tell him hurriedly doing everything to avoid his gaze. I don't think I have it in me to talk about half the embarrassing things I must have said last night.

It wasn't a question but a statement— simple but effective. Heat crept up to my neck, every fucking part of me dancing in a thrilling movement, he leaned closer, covering me with his woody— spicy smell like chains wrapped around my neck. With one swift movement, he grabbed my dress pulling it off with a loud tearing sound. Rip. The fabric ripped into pieces, falling in shreads. Leaving me left only in my underwear. “You become beautiful every fucking day.” Lucian groaned, kneeling and placed his head on my V-area, sniffing me like a possessed dog.