Vanessa Grasse Nude Novels & Stories

*** In the presidential suite on the top floor of the hotel, the celebration noise faded to nothing. Vanessa stepped out of the marble bathroom wearing only a sheer white lace negligee that left almost nothing to the imagination. The fabric clung to her body like a second skin as she crossed the room on bare feet. She came up behind Adrian, who stood at the floor-to-ceiling window staring at the city lights, a half-empty whiskey glass in his hand.

I watched them climb for a second, mesmerized by the orange glow, then stomped them out with my boot because burning my own stronghold felt too much like losing control. The door opened again. Softer this time. Vanessa slipped inside wearing nothing but a thin silk robe the color of fresh blood. It clung to her curves and parted just enough to show the swell of her breasts and the long line of her thigh. Her dark hair hung loose, still damp from a bath, and she smelled of jasmine and heat. She didn’t speak at first. Just closed the door with her hip, turned the key in the lock, and walked toward me over the debris like she was crossing a ballroom floor.