Is The Picture Of Dorian Gray Hard To Read Novels & Stories

He clears his throat, the sound too loud in the quiet hall. "Does anyone have any questions regarding the theme of vanity?" Adrian asks, his voice steady, betraying none of the physical discomfort he is enduring. A girl in the third row stands up, adjusting her glasses. "Professor, do you think Wilde intended the portrait to represent the subconscious mind?" Adrian nods, grateful for the distraction. "An excellent interpretation. The portrait serves as a mirror to Dorian's soul, yes. It captures the moral decay that his physical beauty hides." He answers politely, keeping the discussion academic, safe. He avoids looking at the back row, but he can feel Ryder’s eyes on him, a burning gaze tha

Dorian yelled from behind, but I didn't care to glance at him. My eyes were stuck on the picture of the lady drawn on the paper. He had held this with care and attention like it was a bar of gold. "What is that?" Dorian asked, walking closer. I turned and handed this paper to him. He took it and gave it a short glance before gasping. "What? Do you know her?" With envy, I inquired, "How could another woman get his attention to the point where he drew her on paper?" "This is Elena!" He shrieked, leaving my eyes widened as I got really struck.

My voice came out scratchy from not using it. "Because I've been where you are," Dorian said quietly. "Open the door please." Something in his voice made me stand. I unlocked the door and pulled it open. Dorian stood in the hallway dressed in dark jeans and a gray sweater, his blue eyes scanned my face and I saw concern there, real concern. "You look terrible," he said. "Thanks," I muttered. He stepped inside without asking closing the door behind him. His eyes found the note on my nightstand immediately. He picked it up, read it, and his jaw clenched. "How long have you had this?"

He’s dangerous, he’s corny, and he’s manipulative. Dominique Gray slowly runs his eyes down my body, taking his time to check me out, and then he brings his gaze back to my face as he takes a step toward me so that we are a few inches apart. I can’t read his look. It’s just blank, but I’m very much aware a lot is going through his mind right now. And I badly want to know what he’s thinking. I’m good at reading people. I can tell who you are by a quick observation, but not with Dominique Gray. This man is like a Rubik’s Cube. Complicated. And that just makes me frustrated. And fuck me if he doesn’t smell really good, like wood or pine, with a mixture of an expensive cologne.

"No women ever shot her man while he was doing dishes." ~ Author unknown. - "Everyday. I couldn't be happy if I didn't see him everyday. He is absolutely necessary to me." Lucia read a quote from The picture of Dorian Gray. She vaguely smiled, this book meant so much to her. It was the book she once shared with him, a book that later hurt her because of the character he had compared her to but she loved it now. There was not a day she didn't read it, not a day she didn't read one quote from the book to keep herself going.

Dorian smiled and his beady eyes almost disappeared from view. His puffy cheeks trembled as he spoke, making Larissa's stomach churn. Larissa wasn't someone who judged people by their appearance, but Dorian really made a poor impression on her. She endured the nauseating disgust and shook his hand reluctantly. "Glad to meet you too," Larissa forced a smile and said insincerely. As she was about to retract her hand, Dorian gripped it forcefully and ran his sweaty palm over the back of her hand, leaving a patch of moisture on her skin.

A mist begins to fall over Dorian and me. Dorian holds his breath, trying to move away from the mist, but it continues to fall over him. I try to avoid the mist, but there’s nowhere to go. His eyes begin to look around wildly. He starts sniffing the air. Then he stiffens and closes his eyes. It looks like he is trying to control himself. A strange scent begins to permeate through the air. My manacles fall to the floor. Suddenly, my vision begins to blur, and my chest begins to rise erratically. My body heat thrums, and my breasts begin to feel heavy as wetness collect in my panties. I shuffle my feet uncomfortably, which makes things worse. Dorian’s head snaps at the sound of my shuffling. H

“Maybe I can help. I can even get you into the restricted section.” I froze, a chill creeping down to my fingertips. Dorian always knew more than he should. It was as if he could read my thoughts. “Don’t look at me like that.” Dorian let out a soft chuckle. He picked up a random book and opened it carefully. “I like observing. I read physical changes and emotions the way I read a formula.” “Yeah… you’re terrifying.” “You see…” Dorian closed the book. “I know you’re chasing something far more dangerous than knowledge. Am I right?”

"Huh ..... I don’t know if I’ll ever understand that type of Dorian, you are talking about." Maya offered a small smile, her eyes warm but filled with knowing. "No one truly does. But you have to give it time. Dorian isn't someone you can go easy on, he's too hard, you know...... Something like a hard nut to crack."

Aaron handed him a glass of golden-brown liquid, which was half way to the tippy top of the crystal glass. "Matinee..." He added as he noticed Adrian give the glass a disdain look, before looking up at him. "You also hate matinees?" "Also?" Adrian noticed his choice of words. "You appear unfazed by the relics and sentiments of this world –" Adrian raised a brow at him when he paused, which forced him to decide upon an explanation. "Dark... Cold... Rude... Antisocial! You appear to be someone who hates a awful lot of things."