Romans & histoires Passionate Sketches

ZANDER’s POV “Dude, that looks insane.” The class still buzzing because of the sketches we did. It wasn’t as though Jayden didn’t deserve the praise—he definitely did. His sketch was beautiful. Every curve and outline had been drawn with precision. Every detail carried some sort of patience and emotion that made me wonder how Jayden knew how to sketch this well.

“Nathan... Please.“ He smirks. “Please what?“ She bites her lip with exasperation. “Please.. just... Just do it.... Fuck me... Anything.... Just fucking do something.“ She finds herself saying and he chuckles. “Wow, such a spicy, eager horny chick.“ He says and she grunts. “ Nathan.... Please....“ She pleads and this time he finally has mercy on her. “ As you wish my lady. “ He says. “but we are going to take this slowly one step at a time.“ He says and plants a soft kiss against her clit. “Oh my god.“ She whimpers with a shivering voice and covers her face, arching her back against the table. He lifts her legs and places them on either side of his shoulders, then he leans closer and begins

Larissa was in awe when she saw the lifelike sketch on the sketchpad. It portrayed a lean and handsome young man gazing out the window. He was surrounded by petals that gently descended from the sky. "Do you like it?" Jasmine asked shyly. "I do, you made me look so good," Larissa said approvingly. "If you don't mind, I'd like to give this drawing to you." Jasmine blushed as she spoke. "You're really going to give this to me?" Larissa exclaimed in surprise. Larissa genuinely liked this sketch of her.

he said. I smacked his shoulder "oh my gosh why do you have to be so damned crude?!" I laughed. He laughed and made a turn into the private parking space by the museum. "Let's go bestie" he said as he opened my door for me. I took his hand and slipped my phone in my back pocket. We walked to the entrance and got let in really quickly. "So the gallery is by some artist who likes to depict what it's like to 'be in love'"

Drawings, sketches, candids—charcoal outlines of my laugh, oil smears of my eyes, watercolor chaos capturing my fury. Sketches on napkins—my face in every mood, laughter, tears, anger, silence. Not a shrine, but a museum. And unlike the one Dontrell surprised me with in his penthouse, this one breathed. It wasn’t perfection, but passion—wild, obsessive, unfiltered love. My name was etched on the walls—'Allison' scrawled a thousand times. My handwriting beside his. A framed grocery list I once left on his fridge. A torn menu from a dinner I didn’t even remember, where I scribbled a heart beside his initials.

And the rage inside of me is still there. I grab another canvas and start sketching out the Paris skyline. It’s harsh and a little jagged, nothing like the gorgeous interpretations I’ve seen from every other artist. It’s nothing like the Paris I spent two months in. It’s colder and darker, and there’s a level of fear there. It’s how Andre made me feel when he tried to come on to me. He ruined Paris for me, and I find a way to express that on the canvas.

She had never been particularly skilled at crafting or painting, but there had to be something she could pour herself into, something that didn’t involve Damien or the endless etiquette lessons. After rummaging through the drawers in her suite, she found a set of sketchpads and colored pencils. They were pristine, likely untouched by anyone before her. Sitting by the window, Ava began to sketch. Her movements were hesitant at first, her lines shaky, but as she lost herself in the process, the lines became bolder, more confident. She sketched the garden, its vibrant flowers, the fountain, and even the shadowed figure of Damien on the bench. Her hand hovered over the page when it came to drawi

She took mine, my lips twitched in a smirk as i pointed at the sketch i drew there. Her eyebrows pulled together. She looked like she didn't understand it. Damn, can she be any more naive. "You're so stupid." I said with a sigh and rolled my eyes. Ashton walked toward us with a curious look, his eyes went to the sketch. His face grimaced, his eyes flicked to me again, "Just leave." He said annoyed. I chuckled, "You have to admit, i am pretty good with porn sketches." I said with a confident smile as i walked out of the room.

His room was in a chaotic state, but that didn't compare to his desk. Strewn all over it were papers. Hundreds of it with many sketches of one face. Nine. He had drawn the one for the painting, but he never felt the urge to paint her and instead, kept making mini sketches. Her eating. Her sitting. Her reading. Her trying to read. "What are you fucking doing to me?" Skye demanded, his eyes moving through the pictures. "What the fuck are you doing?"

She kissed my cheeks with a grin. “Thank you, Chris; I’ve always wanted an office, but it’s out of my price range. Well, I have never seen anything I liked here, but I can sketch it for you.” “You, sketch it?” I asked. “Yes, I will sketch it. It’s been a lifelong ambition of mine.” Who did I marry, precisely, Sketch? “All right, when do you think it’ll be ready?” “Give me three days,” she says. “You’re going to draw it in three days?” She smiled and nodded.