Couple Art Reference Novels & Stories

Chapter 97. Pearl’s POV. It’s day three since we started exploring New Zealand… and with every place we explore, Alpha Lucien somehow makes sure my pussy has its own taste of his tongue exploration. A wicked part of me now expects it but another part pretended not to. Now we’re standing inside the quiet, high-ceilinged Art Gallery, golden afternoon light drifting through tall windows. Paintings, sculptures, strokes of color… the kind of beauty that reminds me how deeply art can pull you into something that feels like nature.

Fuck, why did his criticism already make my nipples tighten under my bra? “Sorry about that, traffic was bad. Show me what we’re working with. I want to get this right for your exhibit.” He gestured for me to follow him deeper into the studio, where canvases leaned against the walls, each one more disturbing and intimate than the last. One painting showed a woman bent over, her face twisted in what looked like pain and pleasure, cum dripping down her thighs while shadowy hands gripped her hips. Another had a man staring straight out, his cock hard and veined, eyes filled with obsession. My pussy clenched involuntarily as I stared, a rush of heat flooding through me.

I do my best to confer at appropriate times while viewing her as my favorite piece of art in this place. "Oohh, Finn, look at these two. I love them." She pulls me farther up the line of art until we stand directly in front of a matched pair of paintings. A male and female character of Dragons Reborn are framed side by side. The male image is in a dark wood frame with a painted character that extends out from the canvas. The thick paint is stacked up so the image has a layered and three dimensional feel.

“You got a reference sketch, or are we freestyle spiraling?” “Two figures,” I said, voice flat, completely unbothered. “Realist black-and-grey shading. A man and a woman. Back arched, thighs hooked over his hips, his hands on her waist, burying himself in her from behind. Deep. Intimate. Raw. No censorship.” Tank stared at me for three uninterrupted seconds. He didn’t blink. Didn’t flinch. He just processed the geometry of what I’d just requested with the grave solemnity of an architect looking at blueprints.

Vivian showed her appreciation. “I want you to make an artwork for I and Alex. I want a painting of two of us together in one picture. As you know that we are lovers. So, I want the painting in the sense that people don’t need to be told before they have known that these are couples” she took a breath. “I don’t think you get me!” She uttered in loud tone. “I understand you so well. So, don’t worry” Vivian uttered with smiles on her face. Hazel showed an expression as she noticed a smile on Vivian’s face.

I rubbed my forehead, unsure of what to do. “Aren’t you going to say anything? Damn, look at this. So romantic and sensual. He imagined both of you when he bought this.” Nicole said, picking up the art book. “The pictures are out of this world, though the gift is strange. Robert Clarke is very thoughtful. I’ll give him that.” “You think?” I mumbled, staring at the picture Nicole showed me, and my eyes glazed over the sensual black-and-white art. It was a drawing of a naked silhouetted man and woman in bed, tangled with the sheets.

he said softly, nudging his head in the direction of the biggest painting in the room. A mix of surprise and admiration flashed through my eyes, eliciting a gasp from me. Luckily for us, as we approached the painting, the old couple that had been gazing at it chose that moment to walk away. The artistic piece was a painting of a stunning woman, who had her eyes closed and was sprawled on a flat surface, her dark hair kissing the ground beneath her. She had black silk thrown around her, which covered her body from her waist, down to a part of her legs that were a tad bit exposed through the opening of the fabric. But that wasn't the most beautiful part. The part that seized me in a chokehold

“But you realize we’re also going to have to go through all of this together… in my room or yours?” I glanced at him, trying to hide the curve of a smile. “We’ll see who wins the better workspace.” His gaze lingered a second longer before he looked back down at the notes. The touch between our hands remained, light but deliberate, like neither of us was quite ready to pull away. **** We spent the morning visiting a local art collective. The building was a converted warehouse, its walls bursting with color: murals of women carrying baskets, dancers mid-spin, and abstract splashes of blue and gold.