The Chestnut Man Novels & Stories

Claire smirked, nodding her head in the direction of the door. "Tall,hawt and Irresistible.Who?"I asked, but turned straight around to see who she was looking at. I smiled when I was him.. Mr MACCHIATO!! as I like to call him.His gorgeous dark hair was wet from the rain that was pouring down outside. It definitely added to his usual Handsome look. I turned back around and continued stacking the paper coffee cups."I guess that man likes his coffee."I tried to stop myself from smiling,knowing that if I did she would make a thing of it.

Crispin asks as strips off his shirt. I wasn’t sure where to look but my head wouldn’t turn. As much as I didn’t want to ogle his hard chest that was so beautiful. His skin was a beautiful caramel brown color and his 6-packed abbs were tight as he moved. Though the part I really loved was his chest. They were big for a guy his size and the way they moved as he flexed his arms was mesmerizing. I always loved a guy with a big chest as it proved he was strong enough to handle me. I did not except him to be hiding such a wonderful sight under his shirt.

And she hadn’t seen it until it was too late. Her heart pounded as she backed away slowly, scanning the forest floor now with new eyes. There were dozens of them. Hidden under moss. Buried in leaves. Perfectly placed. Then she heard the voice. “You’re not very good at being quiet.” She whipped around. A man stepped out from the trees. Not emerged — stepped. Like he was made of the forest. He was tall. Broad-shouldered. Camo pants tucked into heavy boots. No shirt — just a harness of knives strapped across a bare chest sculpted like a statue. His jaw was covered in stubble, his hair tied back, and his eyes were colder than the mountain wind.

His shirt is slightly dishevelled, with the first two buttons undone and untucked from his pants. His chest hairs are visible through the opened shirt, and his biceps are noticeably large, straining against the sleeves. I feel my chest rise and fall with each shallow breath I take, and instinctively cover my mouth with my hand to muffle my heavy breathing. “Where the fuck is the little prick?” The man with the shotgun in his possession growls in a low and homicidal tone. “I know he is behind tonight's fatalities. No one would have the balls to send out a message the way he did. I bet he stood there and watched his night light up like the fourth of fucking July.” The man continues to growl in

It wasn't until Chester appeared that the atmosphere began to let up a little. Chested walked down the stairs. He was wearing a loose white button-up shirt with his sleeves rolled up slightly, exposing his muscular forearms. He looked very classy and elegant as he descended the stairs with a pair of gold-rimmed glasses framing his face. Jonathan's face was tense. He didn't say a word. Richard stabbed him with his staff. "Greet him!" Half a minute later, Jonathan finally opened his mouth and greeted Chester with great dissatisfaction. "Uncle Chester."

I sprinted home and couldn't wait to share the good news with my wife, Morrigan Frost. I had told her that I might be busy and wouldn't be able to come home for lunch before leaving the house that morning. Now, I wanted to surprise her. We had been married for so many years and living a hard life. She could finally enjoy life with me now. However, I didn't expect to see a pair of men's leather shoes on the shoe rack the moment I opened the door. The shoes were clean and polished. They obviously belonged to a businessman. I had spent all my spare time doing delivery jobs, and I rarely bought shoes like that for convenience.

I sat in the chair nearest the door because sitting nearest the door felt like the right instinct, and I waited, and the house waited around me, and nobody spoke. Then the front door opened. The man who walked in was tall, not as tall as Damien but close, with lighter colouring and a face that shared certain features with Damien's the way different editions of the same book share a cover. You could see the connection if you were looking for it. The jaw, the set of the eyes, the particular way he held himself like he had grown up being told he was important and then at some point stopped believing it. He was maybe thirty. He was wearing a jacket that had been expensive once and was not anymor

While helping me up, he said promote more enchanting smiles. "No...That..." 's not it. Don't get me wrong, it's... the mango fruit. " While protesting, he pointed at the mango lying on the street. "What are you so stammering about?" Huh, yeah, why do I feel so forced? I looked down when I accidentally caught a glimpse of something on his chest, probably a tattoo. What picture? I was about to open my mouth to ask, when I heard a voice in my ear: "Miss Britt, sorry to keep you waiting!" I turned around and a man in his forties was looking at me fondly.

SHE was dressed in a revealing nightgown again that morning, and her entire body was almost exposed. She exclaimed, undecided about whether to walk down and face the man, but she finally decided not to. The door opened, and the man entered. She drew her attention right away as he was shirtless. Her heart skipped a beat, so she immediately looked down. While the man was looking at her, particularly her breasts, she wrapped her hand around her breasts quickly. Cuhen does not own her, even though she has claimed her multiple times.

The abandoned castle stands as a chamber of darkness, dripping with an unsettling silence. ASHER, his body weakened and broken, is chained to a cold, rusty wall. His eyes are wide with horror as he watches the hooded man approach, his sinister presence imposing. The hooded Man slowly bends down, his movements deliberate and methodical. He retrieves the severed thumb from the ground, cradling it carefully with an air of macabre fascination. The dim light glints off the Anki knife he used, a glimmer of sadistic pleasure in his eyes.