Novel & Cerita Passionate Drawings

she continues, “as good as you are, you also lack passion. And that pains me to see.” For a moment, I’m thrown aback. I didn’t expect to hear that. Passion? What does that have to do with anything? The only thing that matters is efficiency, perfection. And I always excel in that. “But you always say my drawings are perfect,” I say. She doesn’t argue or raise her voice. She just tilts her head slightly. “That’s true. You’re technically excellent. Your control is impressive. Your discipline is rare. I’ve met people with several years of experience who can’t draw half as well as you do at the age of nineteen.”

Mine. Lucien Grayson has drawn my face, and then stuffed it at the bottom of his bottom drawer. I’m not sure when he observed it long enough to pluck this level of detail out of me, the serious, detached air, the tight-lipped expression, the wispy hair curling around the cusp of an ear. Here’s what I do know: there is something sharp about the drawing. Something searing and intense and expansive that’s simply not there in the other sketches. Force, and power, and lots of feelings were involved in the making of this portrait. Lots. And I can’t imagine they were positive

Half-finished profiles, small studies of my mouth, my knuckles. He didn't just draw my hands. He drew the veins on my forearm. He drew the calluses on my fingers. He drew the scar on my left palm. I feel something in my chest lurch. This isn't a sketch book. It's an obsession, and I’m so here for it. I flip a page and my breath stills in my throat. It’s me, drawn from the side, on my knees. My head is bowed, my hands clasped behind my back. It’s not last night. It’s from a drill. But the focus he’s captured is all sex. The tension in my spine, the line of my ass.

Starved Passion::: He restlessly pounded his cock inside her as her cries and groans of pleasure filled his ears, he lifted her legs on his shoulder as he intensified his powerful thrust taking her deep, hard and fast until everything inside her exploded like a hot molten lava. Their body pressed together, her soft flesh against the hot hard muscle of his chest and body. Davin slowly thrust in with his breathing hot and erratic until the flicker of pleasure rippled through his body as he came after her.

I glanced at a few of the books, some fantasy novels and a small sketch pad. I opened the sketch pad and looked through it, she was good. Really good. The scenes were mostly outdoors. Forests, waterfalls, mountains. All done with such grace and precision. Each more lovely and realistic than the last. I noticed at the bottom there was a J written as beautifully as the drawings themselves. I got to the last page and there was a drawing of a moon. Bright and beautiful in the sky but there was something else to it. The drawing felt sad. “What the hell.” I snapped as I lifted my hand and wiped a tear from my cheek.

Now, she sat here in the mornings, drinking the coffee he made for her—the silent, pathetic peace offering he left on the counter every day, hoping she wouldn't throw it out. He looked at the refrigerator—at the blue circular magnet holding up the three drawings. He wanted his drawing up there so badly it made his chest ache, but he didn't know how to ask without sounding desperate. "What are we drawing, Eli?" "Animals," Eli said, his small hand moving with fierce concentration. "Mrs. Yusuf said to draw our favorites." "How many do we have?" "Three." Eli pointed a small finger. "That's a brachiosaurus. That's Patterson. That's Gerald."

“What else does art make you feel?” I leaned my head back against his shoulder, voice breathy as his fingers circled my clit. “It makes me feel… alive. When I sketch late at night in my tiny apartment, I’m not thinking about bills or my father’s expectations. I’m free. I draw bodies tangled together, hands gripping skin, mouths open in pleasure. I draw women surrendering and still looking powerful. It’s the only place I’ve ever let myself be… filthy. Honest.” Damien pushed two fingers inside me, slow and deep.

I had never been so focused and talented on a particular piece of drawing before. I wanted to give this to her…and tell her to appreciate her body just like I did. I wanted her to see that I was not only piercing through her mind but she was all I could think of. "Uhg. Kaliya…give in. Fucking give in to me" I muttered, my fingers grazing the drawing. It was a big-sized sketch and it felt like she was before me. My fingers brushed her nipples and her gasp filled my ears. My fingers went down to her navel and then down to the most beautiful part, her rosy clean…

Chapter thirty-three Anabelle Pov The hall was noisy, the moderators were discussing with each other. While other members were whispering. I couldn't think about the noise. I closed my eyes and started mapping out the drawing found. I drew the mountains first, filling it with amber color, the mountain was filled with different giant trees. After properly drawing the mountain I drew the moon-bird. It was so fine to my eyes, I couldn't believe I was able to draw the same art work and it was better than the previous one.

I don't know if I should like him more for being honorable or hate him for not finding me attractive at all. “Now, you do?” “I still don't.” “Oh!” “Not really.” He sighs. “It's still weird.” “Because you've never tried thinking about it.” “You have?” “Countless times.” I admit. His eyes flash with passion. “In different positions.” I add. “Chelsea,” he groans. I lean forward, my eyes fixed on him. He knows what I intend to do and doesn't move away. The first contact of my lips with his has me reeling with pleasure. It feels better than I had imagined, a thousand times.