Txt Jacket Novels & Stories

Three skirts which were neither that tight nor that loose. And I also bought a leathery jacket on Alex's request. According to him, all my outfits will look great with a leathery jacket on top. He just wants to make me dress like a badass like him, I think but I couldn't care less, I am enjoying myself and some little badass styles won't do that big of a harm.

Jax moves aside, continues his own search. Just when I’m about to give up and leave the damn store, Jax pipes up again. “How about this one?” I turn to see him holding up a black leather moto jacket with a silver zipper. It’s fucking perfect. My lips spread into a grin. “That’s the one.” Jax takes a closer look at the jacket inside the collar. “Medium should be good, right?” I have no fucking idea. I just stare at him blankly. He chuckles, thrusting the jacket in my direction. “Should be fine.”

It was terrifying, and kind of cool. I stepped out. Jax, who was now lounging on a plush bench like he owned the place, looked up. His eyebrows shot up. “Well, well. Look at that.” He pulled out his phone and snapped a picture before I could protest. “For the archives.” “Hey!” “Next!” he declared, already tossing me a deep burgundy sweater with a complicated knit pattern. This one was softer, more academic. I put it on. I looked like I went to a fancy university and debated philosophy in coffee shops.

Her palms were sweating. "Two minutes to live, people!" a crew member yelled through a megaphone. "You look like you're about to vomit," a deep, smooth voice murmured beside her. Summer turned her head to see Jaxson standing next to her. He was wearing his official Eastern University varsity jacket—dark blue with heavy leather sleeves and the massive white Bulldog crest on the chest. He looked every bit the elite athlete: broad-shouldered, tall enough that she had to tilt her head back to look at him, and possessing an effortless, infuriating confidence that seemed to draw every eye in the courtyard toward him.

I turn around. Talia Jett, I note her name from the nametag on her chest, is standing in the center of my suite looking like she's been hit by something she didn't see coming. And she truly didn’t. The tuxedo jacket is two sizes too large, the collar sitting wrong on her shoulders. Her hair has come half-loose. Her hands are clutching nothing because she had dropped the bottle earlier, in the hallway. I heard the crash. And all she’s trying to do right now is hold herself together through sheer grip strength.

He slipped out of his shirt, his well-toned muscles rippling beneath his skin. Ruby suddenly became dumbfounded as his chest came into view. He had a tattoo on the upper side of his chest. Ruby's gaze lingered on Jaxon's tattoo, her curiosity piqued as she traced the intricate lines with her eyes. It was a simple design with different writings, black against his tanned skin, curving around his pectorals and disappearing beneath the waistband of his jeans. She wanted to ask what was written there but she couldn't find the voice to climb and she just watched him join her on the bed.

“Thanks, my love, for picking out my outfit. I can do the rest from here.” Dexter slipped on a pair of light brown skinny-leg pants with a deep royal gold thick sweater. He grabbed a lightweight gold scarf with guitar designs throughout the scarf. He brushed his hair in the direction he always did. Taesha had already sprayed his cologne on his clothes. He sat down while slipping into his shoes, grabbing his leather brown jacket and sunglasses as he left the bedroom.

The ride back to the Hotel was agonisingly long. Tyler didn't say a word. He didn't need to. I sank back against the plush leather seat, my pulse hammering a frantic, erratic rhythm against my throat as I watched him. Tyler unbuttoned his suit jacket, tossing it carelessly onto the opposite seat, before reaching up to loosen his silk tie. He stripped it away, unfastening the top two buttons of his crisp white shirt, exposing the strong, tanned column of his throat.

“Clothes off. Now.” They stripped like they’d been waiting for permission. Shirts, jeans, boxers hitting the floor in a rush. Four fit, twenty-something bodies—Tyler lean and pale, Ethan short and thick with that fat jiggling ass, Ryan lanky with a long cock already dripping, Jamal smooth dark skin like mine but softer, eyes wide with shame-laced want. I peeled my tank off slow, let them see it all—broad shoulders, heavy pecs dusted with black hair, carved abs, that deep V arrowing down. Then I shoved the sweats to my ankles.

The scent rolled over my skin like a hot tide, instantly driving away the cold draft blowing in from the arena floor. Jax Miller shut the door behind him. He did not lock it, but his broad, heavy frame filled the doorway like an unyielding wall. *** Jax wore his dark blue New York Titans hoodie, the sleeves pushed up to his forearms. His knuckles were red, his dark eyes burning with an intense, unshielded heat that locked straight onto my bare shoulder. He walked past the rows of wooden sticks, his heavy boots thudding against the rubber runner with slow, deliberate purpose.