Passionate Sketches Novels & Stories

I rest my head against his chest, listening to the rapid thump of his heartbeat as I stroke my fingers along his tight ab muscles. “That was…” “Unexpected?” I breathe, a giggle bubbling up my throat. I push up on his chest, gazing down into his eyes. “So I get to keep the drawing?” He chuckles, yanking me closer until my lips crash into his. He claims my mouth in a filthy hot kiss that makes my toes curl. “I’ve got hundreds of sketches, y’know,” he murmurs against my lips, and I can feel his own tighten in a grin. “You can have as many as you want if you always pay so… generously.”

Chantelle burned with jealousy. “Feed me baby.” Trenton said to Angela. “Is there any need to be cheesy?” Angela whispered. “I should leave now I have appointments to attend to.” Chantelle forced a smile and left the office hiding her clenched fists.

“I will not let him destroy me.” I picked up my tablet and started sketching again, each design sharper, bolder, more confident than the last. My fingers moved with a mix of rage and longing, creating delicate yet fierce lines that mirrored how I felt inside. Every piece was a story: my anger, my heartbreak, my obsession, my drive.

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.

The damp soil made no sound as the ring crashed on it. Opening the sketchbook, she flipped quickly through the pages, skipping many sketches of nature and buildings, her eyes searched and searched... and suddenly her heart stopped when she found what she was looking for. Her eyes riveted on that particular sketch. A face of a woman. Her instinct was correct. It was her. She flipped through the next pages, and her breath caught as she found a dozen sketches of that woman in many different angles. The way he drew her, so intricate and detailed. She could feel in every line on the paper, the passion he had for her. The last sketch got her stunned. It was way more intimate, more erotic than the

Something she made for her dad, to gift her dad but never got to do. Uncomfortable with the silence, I pick one of the sketches, a pencil drawing of a model-thin lady without a head. The focus of the artist is on the skirt. Cinched at the waist and flared at the knee. There are too many of them spread out on El’s desk. The designs vary but some are repeated with little improvements. “What are these?” I ask. El yawns again. I carry her to the long couch in one corner of her office and place her between my legs. Her back presses to my chest, I massage her shoulders and she lets out a grateful sigh.

I walked past the hallway till I saw Ariana’s room. Her room door had been slightly open. She was sleeping like some princess, but looking at her face… I could see dried up tears. Which was so satisfying. I was about leaving when I noticed something. Inside, her desk was filled with sketches. Not ordinary sketches. They were bold, Different and Modern. I stepped closer without thinking. I told myself I was just looking. Just curious. But when I picked up the first sheet, my heart skipped. The angles. The detail and the lines….

Groaning, she grabbed the pencil and started to fulfil her heart's desire. She slumped onto the couch and sketched on the first page of the notepad. She didn't realize how the time flew by, as she spent her time perfecting her sketch. She drew a serpent that was peeking out of a human skull, ready to spit its poison to the next person who dared disturb him. She was almost done with it when Frank entered the room. Gasping, she hastened to hide the notepad in the fear of angering him. She had used something that belonged to him without his permission.

My poor vibrator was going to get a fast and furious workout tonight, make no mistake. “The trick with spankings is to start slowly and build up a good, steady rhythm. By the time I’m finished with you, your ass should be a brilliant shade of crimson. If we were talking the ‘Ultimate Guide to Pain Package,’ then I wouldn’t stop until there were tears. Depending on your pain tolerance, I’d probably move on to a flogger, then a paddle, and if needed, a crop. How does that sound for a warm-up?”

While we were talking after I accepted her friendship, she told me everything—rumors, everything she’d heard Liana and the other students say about me—but I wasn’t interested because the truth was already out and Liana got what she deserved. “Bring out your cardboard and sketch something, something unique and captivating,” she said, walking in our midst. “Remember, you’ll come out one after another to tell us about your sketches,” she said, pricking my memory and forcing me to recall things I didn’t want to remember. As I took out my cardboard from my drawer, I remembered the sketches of Chris, the confessions, the obsession, and all of them. My heart sank. I spread the cardboard on my desk