Angel Dust Artwork Novels & Stories

I stood in front of the wall that displayed her artwork and stared at the remaining painting carefully. “Do you have a picture of her sold artwork, I want to see them because I see if I would like some and re order for them. “ Alright , come with me” we followed the woman and she led us into her office, she told us to sit then she brought out the pictures the gallery had taken when they still have her painting. I stare at each picture.They were simply breathtaking. The painting that caught my attention was the one of the child sitting in a field of flowers as three angels looked down upon her from the sky. I couldn’t help but think of all she’s been through and what she is stil going throug

Johnny Sly beamed at her before she left the terrace. “Please, follow me, miss…” the young woman escorted her to the room. They walked inside the house, highly doomed ceiling with paintings of angels fighting with some devils, Elena squinted her eyebrows as she also saw a devil was making love with an angel. ‘The concept of balance in human’s life?’ her thought was exploring the paintings. She also saw the paintings about a dragon, a big snake and a tiger… She inhaled. ‘A philosophical value of eastern…’ What she saw making her feel curious about who Johnny Sly was in a real life.

Cameron moaned, his touch flooding Aislen with the conflicting pain/pleasure, and the heavy, mind melting bliss he experienced in the utter surrender and trust of his body into Talen’s skilled hands. Aislen looked up at Rhett over her, and Heath, his head thrown back as he ground himself into Rhett. She had to draw this, she thought. Was there a point, however, when art crossed into pornography? And did that matter at all when she knew for sure that her regular readers would be drooling on their tablet devices. She’d draw her men, she decided, in all their f-kery, and show them after it was done, so they could get off on knowing that their images were getting hundreds of readers off.

AUDREY The painting displayed in the living room was already glorious, but obviously, Gabriel kept the finest ones in one place in this room. He took my hand and drew me to the wall at the left, and presented me with the enormous painting of an angel. And it wasn’t any regular painting of an angel with wings. Its body was male with the face of a female, and it was nude but with no genitals. But that wasn’t what made the artwork brilliant. The angel’s wings had two shades of black and white and spread up above.

What was left was quiet. And oh God, intense. “Misha…” I whispered, suddenly shy, arms instinctively moving to cover myself. But he reached out, gently catching my wrists before I could. “Don’t,” he said softly. His eyes roamed my body like I was something sacred this time. “You’re…” “What?” I whispered, suddenly breathless for an entirely different reason. “You’re art,” he murmured. “You’re a thousand brushstrokes of chaos and softness and fire. And I swear to God, Angel, if I believed in anything, it’d be you.”

It was a functional binding, but he made it ornate, a pattern of subjugation. "This is the gilding," he whispered, his fingers brushing her cheek as he worked the wire before her face. "The beautiful, precious surface that hides the brutal means of attachment. You are now framed, my darling. The art and its boundary are one." When the last wire was secured, he stepped back. Elara knelt, a grotesque angel held in a pose of eternal suffering by a skein of golden pain. Every breath tugged at the staples. Every heartbeat sent a throb through the wire.

She had to listen to him without looking at him. “I would, except I don’t know where the beginning really is.” He chuckled. “Have you heard the term star dust?” “Yes,” Kristen replied as she looked up and could see him there with her, but it was like he wasn’t right there in front of her either. “Aren’t we all made up of star dust?” “No.” He replied. “Some of us are more than just that.” “I don’t understand.” She replied as she looked back at the picture in her lap. “Why do I feel so different with this one picture?”

[Editor Natasha: Yes, go ahead. [DSalcedo: Sent an image.] Attached to her message was the art that she had just drawn. On the other hand, when they opened it, they were shocked. “Do an image search, check if it’s an artwork by someone else..” Lisa said. Eva quickly worked on it. After a moment. “Nope. It’s nowhere to be found.” [Editor Natasha: Miss Aurora, you drew this one?] [DSalcedo: Yes. Then I used Photoshop and Illustrator.This look is actually on the book.]

“Alrighty then. Just take a seat and I’ll be right back with some designs.” Althea and I settle onto a sleek black couch while I take in the parlor’s atmosphere. The other artists work with practiced ease, their few clients either wincing slightly, chattering or staring into space as the needles glide over their respective skin. There’s something oddly peaceful about it—the way the buzzing and the quiet concentration merge into a steady rhythm. Bailey returns, flipping open a binder of custom designs. “So, what are you thinking, honey?” I glance at Althea before turning my gaze to the many artistic and creative designs on the pages but almost immediately, my gaze lands on the drawing of a ph

Dante didn’t drop his gaze from my stare, holding it without shame. “I’ll kill him—and then I’ll take his territory. I’ve had my sights set on it anyway.” I showered after my workout. By the time I woke up and was ready for the day, it was noon. I looked at my phone before I headed downstairs and saw the message from George. Your artwork is currently being hung in the study. Which meant Astrid was here. The bombshell brunette who was so damn fine. With almond-shaped eyes, green like emeralds and an ass that looked like a summer nectarine in her tight dresses, the woman had a mouth that fired off like a pistol.