[contains strong sexual content]
WAS THERE SUCH POSSIBILITY IN WHICH a man could seem so irresistibly hot without doing something so unpretentious? Well, it was feasible for Harry. He was so hot, so beautiful, and his fucking body was built by the God's above. His tattoos, his face structure, his deep green eyes and most importantly, his hair. She veritably couldn't decide what part of him was her favorite, whether it be the image himself or his personality. At the moment, Estella was padding around her luxurious apartment, bare feet hitting along the marble tile, a glass of wine in her hand as she made her way back to Harry, admiring his shirtless self from afar as he delicately moved the brush along the easel he was painting on, using ravishing water colors only.
A cigarette hung from his rose colored lips, ashes dropping on the carpet that had been on the other side of the room, cross necklace dangling from his neck as it admirably sat in between the two bird tattoos on his chest. His hair had been in deep, chocolate curls, curling around his strong jaw, even neck. His emerald eyes had been so focused on his painting, he hadn't noticed that Estella was standing right behind him, eyes glinting as if she was so intrigued by him sitting there quietly, smoking and painting while The Weeknd played from his stereo that his phone had been connected to.
"What're you painting?" She calmly speaks, not wanting to be too loud and interrupt his concentration on his art. Estella slowly let her soft hands glide over and around his back, brows furrowed at the canvas, trying to recognize it's meaning.
"Pussy," He responded boldly, not a hint of embarrassment in his tone and she blinks at him. "I paint it when I can, the female flower as people like to call it. It may look like pussy to others, but to me, it's a flower, preferably a rose. I feel like men often forget the beauty behind it all. It's not about how it makes you feel, it's about admiring what it could do. Some men also like to degrade how a woman's flower looks - always stating how it should look. Most men are disgusted if a woman has darker flesh or a stretched out labia. Doesn't matter what it looks like, we should always embrace the importance of it and better yet, make the woman embrace herself. By these men saying objectifying names towards them about that, will only degrade them more. So, I decided to paint it, to show my love for it, not because it can please me, but because I want to show all women that some men actually care about how beautiful they are, whether it's inside or out."
Estella was lost for words, not expecting him to say something so inspiring yet truthful. "Wow, that's probably the most beautiful thing I've ever heard you say."
Harry grins, chuckling as he shook his head up at her. "Babygirl, I may be a man but I'm not uneducated about life or a woman's body. I would never degrade any woman, not ever. It's not even in my power to do such things. I learned a lot throughout my life, so it's only right if I be true to myself by actually speaking truth about basic information anyone should know."
"You're so fucking hot." Estella groaned, lips dripping with a hint of lust as she took another sip of her champagne, Harry humming and knocking his head back to look up at her after a long drag of his cigarette, releasing the smoke after gently kissing her lips. Delicately, Harry let his tongue slip in her mouth, savoring the taste of expensive alcohol, a groan eliciting from his throat. Estella pulled away, still wanting to admire the painting he had created. And because it was of the most sacred area of a woman's body ever, she smiled. She moves her soft silky hair behind her shoulder and slowly walks closer towards to painting. It's intriguing, enticing, and she couldn't get enough of it. Her smooth, long fingers caresses the centre and she licks her bottom lip, titling her head to the side in deep concentration.
YOU ARE READING
𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐬𝐭𝐲𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐮. ( you seem to always think about how the world is against you. how every person surrounded by you consumes the distraught aura you hold, feeling it wrap around your neck like a mans bare hands and strangles you until yo...