Steve Harrington Shirtless Novels & Stories

is something a female could never do. His outfit stands out from that of the majority of the other guys; he is wearing a pair of cargo pants and a T-shirt with a long-sleeved shirt layered underneath. I'm not sure why I keep concentrating on his clothing. Steve is even cuter than before, so it's probably because it's simpler than staring at the rest of him.

She nudged Heidi and nodded, gesturing toward Steve and smiling widely. She turned and watched as the young couple started to strip. Steve quickly pulled his shirt off, and all the ladies in the room whistled and catcalled as he did so. He smiled and shook his head at them. Tossing his shirt behind him, he started to remove his shoes and socks, followed by his jeans.

I knew I could have him then and there but I wanted to torture him a bit first. I walked over to him. I had on a pair of way too short shorts and a white tee shirt. My skin was still a bit damp when I had gotten dressed and I hadn’t dried my hair. Needless to say, my dark areolas were perfectly visible as I approached Steve. I reassuringly put my hand on his shoulder, “Steve it’s not a big deal. I don’t mind that you saw me playing with myself.” I knelt in front of him “In fact I kinda like it.”

He needed to disrupt this view somehow and get his head back in the game. “Thanks.” She blushed, and he felt himself frowning, suddenly conscious of the fact she had glanced at his naked upper torso quickly. He was wearing shorts and nothing else and despite never having an issue stripping off in public he suddenly realized why this might be awkward for her. He was still her boss, and he had never been topless in front of her. Not that he was self-conscious in the slightest. He spent enough time in the gym to make sure he was underwear model ready at all times, and his tattoos were always placed in places that enhanced what he had. He was never uncomfortable being naked, especially not in fr

A shirtless Saint. His hair is not styled, it's messy and fluffy as a few strands fall onto his forehead. The black loose jogger he is wearing hangs dangerously low around his waist as it shows the V-line molded with his defined abs. Old scars are plastered across his chest, a huge scar slashed across his chest, and a few bullet wounds here and there. I am eager to trace my fingers along those scars but I hold myself back. I'm not sure how long I stayed in my room but all I know is that it's dark outside and all the main lights are off. The only light that's bleeding through the windows and into the house is the bright moonlight.

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.

Now I had an answer – well sort of. His beach lightened blonde hair hung in a stringy mess around his shoulders, getting tangled in the beaded necklaces which were strung around his neck as if they made him look cooler. He stood shirtless, showing off his tattoos – one of which was a dragon who’s tail disappeared into his board shorts (I didn’t even want to guess where it ended up) and he wore a pair of sunglasses even though the sun was starting to set and we were standing in Josh’s uncle’s double garage.

I went into the house to get three bottles of water and while I was gone, Steve asked snake, "Is this some kind of test or a joke, she doesn't have a shirt on." All snake had time to say is, "Ask her about it, here she comes." I passed out the water and said, "Yes, here she comes, what?" Steve nervously said, "Ummmmm ... I was just asking Charlie if I was being tested or is it a joke you aren't wearing a shirt?" "Steve you have mastered the art of the power of observation, ... congratulations. I hope you don't mind being interviewed by a shirtless female." "It's not that, it's just ummmmmm ... how do I say this,...? unusual?"

“You’ll catch a cold if you keep standing out here.” The words are so unexpectedly ordinary that I stare at him. Before I can respond, he gently loosens his hold on me and starts unbuttoning his shirt. One button. Then another. Then another. The soaked fabric peels away from his skin and suddenly he’s standing in front of me shirtless, rain pouring over broad shoulders and tattooed muscle as if he doesn’t even notice it. I don’t understand what he’s doing until he drops the shirt over my head. The material is damp from the rain and warm from his body.

Athena and Mallory thought they had seen it all, not until they saw some shirtless men in the field, wearing loose pants with sweat tricking down their upper bodies. Mallory gulped down the saliva in her throat as she saw some of the men bulge in their loose pants. “Did you see that?” Mallory asked Athena beside her in a hushed tone. Athena saw the men displaying their abs and six-packs on the field with sweat trickling down their bare bodies. But she was barely affected.