Romans & histoires Portrait Of A Lady Book

It was her again, Muriel— the white wolf. She was standing right in front of me with her eyes closed. She looks helpless and hopeless. I had the chance to examine her face. Her face was a heart shaped one. Her eyebrows were hard-angled and she has this almond eyes. Her nose were straight and her lips were thin and naturally colored in pink. After about a long moment of fantasizing her almost perfect face. Wait, what?! What did I just said? Fantasizing? Oh! Hell no! "Are you gonna stay that way? Acting like you're sleeping beauty in a lame fairy tale?" I told her using my usual cold tone.

With her perfectly beautiful, strong yet delicate facial features, not to mention her auburn fierce curly hairs; twined with her naturally curvy shape; and an interesting personality, Lord Syford seems to forget all his aristocratic misgivings about the system of nobility. Contradicting to what he was trying to prove to the society that commoners can be at par with the nobles as they were both humans, sharing the same body and flesh, breathing the same air, and drinking the same water of the well; he was admiring such noble woman for being superior in beauty, intellect, and personality. Francesca’s beauty wand presence was too intoxicating for the young man to contain. Her witty and challeng

"Why does she get all the good stuff? Why is she always the lucky one? What about me? It's not fair! It's not fair!!! We're supposed to be equals or at least, I should be better than her, so why? Why am I always left behind?!" I chuckled. "You don't have to read it so passionately," "Shh, I'm in the mood. The rest is washed out. I'll read as much as I can and understand it. Look around, maybe you'll see something," I nodded and walked to the bookshelf. I opened the book one after the other, flipping through to find something but the books were mostly herbal books, spell books, especially dark magic, and steamy books. I found a picture frame. One part of the picture was cut out, leaving the m

A portrait of Eleanor hung above it. Not the photograph from the morning room. A portrait. She was seated beside a window, one hand resting on an open book, her face turned slightly away from the viewer as if someone had called her name and she had not decided whether to answer. The artist had captured something the photograph had not. Fear. Not obvious. Not wide-eyed. It lived in the tension around her mouth. In the hand on the book, fingers too tight. Violet stared at it longer than she meant to.

The moment that hand touched her, stopping her from taking out the book, she saw a vision. In what looked like a mountain, she saw the back view of a lady dressed in an ancient dress standing at the edge of the mountain with her hands crossed to her back holding an iris flower. The cool breeze blew her long graceful black hair and then she heard footsteps of someone running and when it got closer, it stopped.

He glanced at her and grinned. She focused on the painting again and then realized he could be right. How had she missed it? "What of the next one?" Jared's long legs ate up the floor as he led her to the next painting. The portrait of Lady Helen Vincent. A lovely young woman in a black silk dress was posed before a balcony. Crimson curtains fell behind her, setting off the alabaster of her skin. The gown hung low, well below her breasts, which were cupped by a filmy white chemise.

I guess I could do it here now. “You have great taste,” I heard from my side and I spun immediately by reflex. I saw a young lady of forties staring at the same portrait I seem to be lost in. “What?” It was not like I didn’t hear what she said but it was impromptu and I didn’t quite understand. “The portrait, you are the only one staring at it, it took me a great amount of deal to paint this,” she replied, staring at the painting with equal passion.

"Sir, we pride ourselves on providing premium companionship. Our ladies are highly trained to do way more than just pour drinks and talk. "They'll sing, play games, whatever you want. I can promise the overall experience will meet your expectations." As he spoke, he opened the door to the private room. The interior was extremely luxurious. One look was enough for me to know that the services here wouldn't be cheap. As I sat down on the couch, he said, "Have a seat. I'll have the ladies come in." Moments later, a line of women appeared at the door. Dressed in sexy miniskirts, they had flawless makeup and syrupy-sweet smiles on their faces.

She looked pampered and polished and expensive, like a trophy on display. "There's a book on the nightstand," Lena said quietly as the others began packing up their supplies. "The boss thought you might want something to read while you wait." I walked back to the bedroom on legs that felt like they belonged to someone else. The book was waiting for me on the nightstand, a novel I had never heard of with a cover that showed a woman standing at the edge of a cliff, looking out at a stormy sea. I picked it up and settled into the chair by the window, the silk of my dress rustling against the upholstery.

Instantly, she coughed as the dust entered her nose. "Looks like the book hasn't been open for a long time. I didn't know the college library has this type of book," said Isabella and looked at the top page that contained a woman's picture, and at the bottom, a name was written, "Lilith." ★★★★ Do comments and vote for this book.