Novel & Cerita Steven Seagal Shirtless

I pulled it out and saw a notification that Sebastian had posted on his story. Yep. I followed him on every social media account now just to make sure I didn't miss anything he posted. I opened the story and a it was a picture of himself at the gym, shirtless, with a pair of battle ropes in his hands. He only wore navy training shorts. His skin glistened with sweat, every muscle in his arms, shoulders, and chest tense from the workout. "Damn..." I muttered under my breath as my eyes shamelessly wandered over every inch of him.

Declan stood at the island, shirtless again, dumping protein powder into the blender like he owned the entire building. “Rule one.” I yelled over the noise “Shirt On, Now.” He turned the blender off and grinned that cocky, panty-melting smirk. “Rule two, you don’t get to walk around looking like that and then demand I cover up. Those shorts are illegal, Savage.” He shot back. “These are standard athletic wear, you Neanderthal.” I grabbed an apple from the ridiculous fruit basket the sponsor left and hurled it at his head. He caught it one handed, took a bite, and winked. Before I could launch something heavier, my phone started blowing up.

She shook her head, and Sebastian stood up. “C’mon! It's going to be so much fun!” He began to unbutton his shirt, and her eyes widened. “What are you doing?” She asked in shock. He said no words and kept unbuttoning his shirt. After he was done, he removed his shirt, exposing his bare chest to Stephanie. She quickly threw her face to the side and closed her eyes.

"Now it's your turn. Take your shirt and jeans off. You can leave your underwear on, however." Sure thing," replied Steve as he looked at Gwen and saw her and her sisters smiling. He quickly pulled his shirt over his head and tossed it aside. Next he turned his back to the Anderson family and began to lower his jeans. Unknown to anyone, Steve had hooked his thumbs into his underwear as well and lowered them with his jeans for a short distance. "Actually, I went commando today and don't have any underwear on. I hope that doesn't make any difference, Amber," stated Steve with a straight face as his butt slowly came into view.

That's disgusting! They all scatter off onto the field and start their drills. I can't help it when my eyes unconsciously move to a shirtless Sebastian. I watch with rapt attention the way his muscles flex when he runs, the sweat running down his stomach to his middle section is calling out to me to lick it. "Oh, my God!" I exclaim to myself "This is wrong, very wrong. I don't even like this kid!" I whisper to myself Then why are you turned on by the sight of him shirtless? My subconscious chides

Still feeling confused, he turned to leave. "Do you think you can just say sorry, and that's it? Do you know who I am? I’m Gordon Seagal! Anyone in this area knows my name. I won't let you get off with just money. Come with me and wash my clothes with your own hands, and maybe then I'll forgive you," Gordon Seagal shouted. Suddenly, there was the sound of fabric tearing. Riiiip— At the same time, a girl screamed helplessly, "Let me go!"

I jolted awake and sat up on my bed, “Steve, what are you doing here?” “Open the door Olivia.” He hung up the phone then. I made my way down to the window after going back and forth with myself. I had on a tight tank top, with no bra, and loose shorts. I was aware that I was gifted in the breast department and but I didn't want to flaunt it at him. I opened the window and I saw Steve standing on the balcony. He only had sweatpants on and his whole upper body was exposed . His tattoos and abs were all in view.

And, like always, he’s shirtless again. Salvador, and like always, a cigarette in his lips. He is easily in the realm of 6’1, onyx of gold for eyes…he is shirtless again. That black serpent of a tattoo is across his back again. Such bulging arms—they look like they could crush walls. Then his chest, it looks as hard as a black rock. For what reason do the abs on his stomach look so strict. They look like they ache, painfully tight and fortunately, they lead into a v-line that would mean his—

"But what the hell kind of costume party you dressed up for?" Navy SEAL Silas "Si" Branson would always be Crash to his SEAL friends, the reminder of his famous joyriding episode. The man was tall as ever and still looking fit. Only instead of fatigues or jeans he was decked out in a tailored navy suit with a white shirt and a striped tie. His hair was cut a lot shorter, too, and when Max looked down he saw Si's feet were shod in what looked like expensive loafers. "If only." His friend sighed.

Her eyes cut straight through the crowd, landing on the tall, striking figure standing in front of a treadmill. She froze for a second. Stephen was always dressed in sharp suits or structured jackets, the picture of a polished, no-nonsense professional. But today was different. Gone was the formal attire. Instead, he wore a fitted athletic shirt and training gear that left nothing to the imagination—his toned chest and sculpted abs were on full display, eight solid muscles carved to perfection. It was the perfect embodiment of that saying: lean in clothes, built underneath. He wasn’t overly bulky, either.