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Every artist has a muse—or so they say.
Now, don’t get me wrong. There’s no doubt that I’m the definition of an artistic genius who brings the sculpting community to literal tears.
She was the inner sadism of my outward charm.
If anything, the sudden surge of marketing my name experienced has stroked my ego in all the right places
Black used to be the standard for me. It was with black that I sculpted and with black that I continued to thrive. But for the first time ever, this type of black isn’t as satisfying. I want the dash of colors. The strike of lightning. The sound of thunder.
It’s so disturbing to see him being Mother Teresa and spouting nonsense with my face.
Nothing is permanent, and the world is a mere vessel to make my desires come true.
Someone give me a challenge, for fuck’s sake.
“Wow for the murdered Smurfs he’s been making?”
“I do have taste. It just doesn’t include your ugly art.”
“All of my work is stunning.”
“Past your beauty bedtime,” Eli says. “Dark circles look hideous on you.”
He’s always wanted to touch my sculptures after I’ve given him the green light. Now, he doesn’t even ask if he can.
As Mum likes to say, we’re like night and day, and while she means that as a compliment, the truth remains, it’s impossible for us to meet halfway.
Mia Sokolov is a beautiful goddess without putting in any effort.
The risks I’m willing to take for the sake of my muse are irritatingly stunning.
“I’m taking Niko on a stroll,”
“I’m not your dog, motherfucker.”
The only difference is that I’m culturally superior and have a more prominent penchant for anarchy.
“Bought your favorite Frappuccino. Double espresso shot with caramel syrup and cream on top.”
“Stunning.”
“Five out of five,” he whispers in words that have no business being so destabilizing. “As expected of my little muse.”
“I knew there was a wild side to you. Tell me. Do you fancy being strangled while a cock rams inside your soaking wet cunt? Or do you prefer having a cock choke your pretty little throat and fill it with cum?”
Such a feisty little one.”
“I happen to be a genius. You’re welcome.”
“Walk with me?” he asks like some sort of a medieval gentleman that he definitely is not.
He ruins things and he ruins them thoroughly without allowing them a chance of survival.
“Relax. I promise not to devour you. Yet.”
“What was that?” He feigns innocence. “Come closer? I know I’m irresistible, but I’m also driving, so you need to keep it in your pants for a bit.”
“You and I will never happen.” “Never say never.”
“Stop being so hot.”
“That was only so I could distract you, and it worked.” I sigh, shaking my head. “Men.”
“Men are so simple, no matter how grandiose they think they are.”
Landon is not only a psychopath but also a raging narcissist.
“But you feel so perfect in my hand. It’s a waste not to touch you.”
“Never say never, little muse.”
“Take it easy on your obsession with me.”
He casts me a glance, throws a flirtatious wink, and then pulls out a cigarette and slides it to the corner of his lips.
I’ve never cared for the smell of cigarettes or smokers in general, but Landon makes it look hotter than it should be. It’s the blasé attitude and the confidence of a god that drips from his every movement.
The last thing I need is for Landon to think I find him attractive in any sense. He’s already conceited beyond belief.
“There. You’re such a good little muse.” His hand is still stroking and groping the statue as if it’s his lover.
It’s not about the age, it’s the edge with which he carries himself. It’s the unapologetic way he touches me as if it’s his birthright.
His arm snakes around my waist and his palm cups the statue’s breast, fingers stroking the nipple.
He lights a cigarette and blows the smoke in my face like an asshole.
“Keep your attention on me when sitting on my lap.”
“And yet I can feel you dripping on my trousers.”
“You’re trembling.” He buries his nose in my hair and ribbons, inhaling me while continuing his path. “Will you also be trembling while riding my cock? Or when I mess up these soft thighs with my cum?”
“Impatient, too.” He slaps my pussy over the wet panties. “Your cunt is so pleased to meet my fingers, it’s soaking for my touch.”
I can feel the wetness seeping through as he circles my clit, and just when I fall for the feeling, he slaps my pussy again.
he pushes my panties to the side and thrusts two fingers ins...
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