Passionate Drawings Novels & Stories

This felt too unreal, like those paid dramas I and mama used to watch when I was little. “Flustered? No” I answered. He stared at me, his wet hair dripping on his face, his eyes were calm, yet, they brimmed with passion. “So tell me Amelia, shall I name you the flustered cat? You seem flustered to me” he said, his eyes staring at mine and then down to my lips and then to my eyes again. What is this feeling? I could feel my heart hammering against my chest, my body feeling hot even with the Air conditioner turned on.

He reached into his bag — past the textbook with the torn cover and the pencil case that didn't close properly and the collection of small objects he kept meaning to remove — and pulled out a drawing. He held it out to his father. A figure in a black dress with butterflies around her head. The dress had careful detail,more careful than the scale of the figure really justified, the work of someone who wanted to get that part right. The butterflies were possibly the size of small horses, which was a scale issue he was aware of and had decided to commit to anyway. At the bottom, in his best handwriting, which he had been practicing specifically for this: For Miss Vale. From Cassian Ardent. I th

Of course, there are so many others in here admiring the artworks. “This is…” I start, but Michael completes it. “Erotic.” I blush hard. “I’d say sinful. A very sexy, sinful artwork.” I study the drawings starting from the one with a woman shoving a dildo into her big pussy, her face scrawled with desire, and her mouth dropped open to her chest. I move to the next with the drawing of an older man with his cock in hand while his seeds drip from his crown like droplets of water. There’s one with two teenage girls on their knees, their hands bound as they suck a cock from a glory hole.

Thinking about her made the haze clear from my gaze until I could see things a lot clearer. "Who are you green-eyed human," I asked the room, then picked up my drawing pad. Inhaling deeply, I started to draw her, her face flashing into my mind. The anger, pain, and passion in her fierce gaze became clearer the longer I pictured her face in my head. My hands worked fast until I was staring at what I'd drawn. The human kneeled over her last kill, a cry on her lips as she raised her dagger to stab into his chest.

The way her throat bulged. The drawing was alive. It was the first thing I had drawn in six months that felt real. She pulled off. Licked my balls again. Sucked them. Then my underarm. Then back to my cock. I drew her doing all of it. The inspiration was too much. It shook me. It made my hand tremble. It made my heart race. It made my cock throb in her mouth. I dropped the sketchpad. “Ride me,” I said. “Reverse. I want to see your ass. I want to see you take me.”

The woman in the drawing was simple but pretty, she looked unreal and angelic. Subconsciously, the man ran his finger across the sketch with his eyes fixated on the pure eyes of the woman that stared back at him. His heart could not help but skip a beat. His eyes emitted a passionate glow but it only lasted for a moment before the emotions disappeared as though they were not there in the first place.

I love you <3' I texted back and sent. Seconds later, she replied with, 'I love you too baby doll!! Hope you spend a great time with your family. Maybe one day you'll introduce this lonely lady to them.' 'Maybe one day.' I sent before putting my phone aside, grabbing a pencil and my sketch pad, suddenly in the mood to draw. Drawing was my escape from reality but then it became a passion or hobby however you call it. I was good, really good. I never once made it become a work, like tried to make money out of it. Thing is, I enjoy drawing but if I start to do it under pressure, I would not enjoy it and it sucks, really. And I definitely did not want to receive comments about my works.

as daunting as it was in the past. He stated, "These are particularly detailed," and I agree with him. When I went back over, I noticed the drawings I'd made of Sharon attending her various games. Drawing her legs is an occupation that I could do for hours on end without being bored with. There were further sketches of her, but they were in a different book that I never showed anyone else since I kept them to myself. I couldn't help but grin as I remarked on how captivating her appearance was.

"I run Team A in the Design Den at Ashbourne Holdings. I am in charge of the Silver Creek project, and this is the first drawing I made. Please look at it." I slide the big paper across the table to him. Just as I take my hand away, he lifts his head up. He blows a big ring of smoke right into my face. Cough! Cough! The smoke makes me cough loud. I look up at him, and his pitch-black eyes are staring straight at me. I feel so embarrassed that I slide back into my seat. Declan looks down at my drawing. His face tells me nothing. After a long, quiet minute, he pushes the paper away to the side of the table.

Tiffany sat in her big office as she sketched freely on a paper, at that moment, she was oblivious to every thing going on around her. All she saw at that moment was herself, the design on her head, the paper on a table, and all we wanted to do is to draw it out and make the world wear the new beautiful design she was creating. It was her passion, her happiness, it is what she loves doing the most and for that reason, she never ran out of idea, even in her saddest moment, she created designs, that is how much she loves what she does.