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No one cares about the time...all they cared was for the present moment....
”Wilshire...you clumsy oaf,” Bianca wailed, droplets of water peppering her upper lip and forehead, her silky dark tresses, falling, sticking, clinging to the olive skin of her back, that had been enhanced by the sun. Wilshire, groaned, for not wanting to release her hard right nipple from his hungry lips, his callused hands caressing, enjoying the feel of her slick, damp back, her muscles toned from Pilates, yet strong from tennis.
”Dios,” the green eyed succubus wailed, water dripping from her long eyelashes, forcing her to shut them. “Wilshire...oh my geez...Wilshire...”
This...this accidental “relationship”, this “situation”, this...”coupling”, twisted spirals through Bianca's spine in the physical sense, traveling through her brain like a maze. It was becoming constant and somewhat distracting, thinking of Wilshire as she took her nightly bath, and on the few nights that she didn't find herself in his arms, she pined for him, finding it hard to sleep without him.
Wilshire, reluctant to be late for school, had only agreed to fuck her if privy to give her foreplay. Bianca had smirked in silent agreement...she would not be a fool to tell him “no”. The butler's hands and lips were always sensitive, always caring, yet creative, demanding her moth to moan and breath to be heavy. Every stroke of his fingertips against her skin, whether wet or dry, asleep or awake illicit fires within her that she felt too young and illegal to experience. But who was she to complain? She would walk into class with glowing skin, better than the 14KT Gold Facial.
”Do you like this, my pet?” Wilshire uttered from her nipple, his tongue lazy, laving the hardened skin slowly. “Do you like what I do to you?”
”Y-yes,” she answered, almost losing her breath, opening her eyes slowly. In that moment, Wilshire, his face wet, his hair clinging, drops of water beading on his muscle frame, was sexy...in an animalistic, untamed sort of way he was sexy...and it scared her slightly.
”Your breasts are so perfect,Bianca,” Wilshire breathed, tracing a circle around her aereola. Smiling humbly, Bianca kissed her manbitch on his forehead, feeling that the compliment was coming from a place of sincerity, and not service. Wilshire Brentwood could own half the world if he were paid for every compliment, requested and non from Bianca Dupree.
”And this...is just magical,” he continued, creeping his free hand around to Bianca's heart-shaped backside, two long fingers entering into her wet slit from behind. Bianca jerked in surprise, expecting but yet not expecting. As Wilshire's fingers explored deeper, Bianca's breath became heavier, almost to grunts, sounding off the feral beast inside of her devastating beauty.
”Mmmmm...magical, are you under my spell, Wilshire?” she hinted wickedly. Wilshire, gently nipping his favorite “treat” grinned, giving the swollen nub one last, teasing flick. Refusing to answer verbally,Wilshire nuzzled her perfect nose with his own.
”Wilshire, are you ready for me?” cooed Bianca with a devilish grin, placing another kiss on his forehead. When he had finally agreed to do her bidding, she made him sit down on the shower bench while she straddled him, using her breasts as vehicles to entice him, seduce him. The power of silicone had indeed made him putty in her hands. After one last playful thrust from his fingers, Wilshire slowly slid out the wet digits, adding a hard smack to Bianca's left buttcheek, making a blush grow into her cheeks.
Like clockwork, Wilshire's shaft was hard, engaged, and ready, but he wanted to entice her, further. He knew fully well she had no grasp on the new “feelings” she would be opening herself up to...but who was he to deny her. After all, she was his “boss” bitch.
”Always, my sweet,” he answered, looking deeply into her eyes, her butterfly lashes surrounded by water droplets. Bianca gazed at him for a few seconds, then quickly turned her back. Nervous and excited, the raven-haired temptress took a deep breath. Lifting her behind she quickly impaled herself on Wilshire's shaft, surrounding it with tight, welcoming walls. Wilshire's mouth dropped open in a silent scream, his hands, automatically grasping Bianca's tiny waist.
”Ohhh!” Bianca screamed, feeling every inch of Wilshire hitting her insides deeper than she's ever felt. “Shit! Oh shhhiiiiit!” she added as she bounced on him like a piston, having no idea of what she was doing, just following her body's natural reaction to pleasure.
'Reverse cowgirl? Where'd the hell she learn this?” he thought as Bianca leaned back a little, spreading her gymnastics -trained legs even wider, letting him get in even deeper.
”Is this magic , Wilshire?” she asked with a sneer he couldn't she, pulling his hands from her waist to place onto her breasts instead. Despite her treachery, her teasing, Bianca caught, in the ecstasy, Bianca dropped her head full of wet, dark hair against Wilshire's shoulder, beginning her circular motions. She could feel Wilshire's chest becoming tight with exhalation then releasing in harried breath.
'Oh..my...sweet heavens...this cold bitch is so warm on the inside,' he thought, giving Bianca powerful thrusts. Usurping her prior demands, Wilshire,taking a hand from her breast, slid further, down to her taught stomach, resting on the little hidden pearl that would make her lose her ever-loving mind. The dark-haired deity shivered as Wilshire's nimble fingers massaged the pleasure jewel, the sensual assault turning her devious design to complete submission.
”Fuck me, Bianca,” Wilshire growled in an assertive tone that sent chills down Bianca's spine. “Take what's yours.”
'What?' she thought, trying to stay balanced while being pummeled from the inside out. Not wanting to ruin the moment with words, she regained her center, driving herself forward, then backward, smiling at the bitchboy's cries and wails assuring her that no matter what position he would put her in physically, mentally, she would ALWAYS be on top.
French class freaking sucked, and why did she have to learn it?
Rocksi, her dark chocolate hair straightened, slicked back into a high ponytail that rested over her right shoulder, boasting yellow diamond hoop earrings, frowned, wanting to slam her head into her desk. She'd rather clip her toenails with a pair of gardening shears before EVER having to take this wretched class.
'This is why teenagers start drinking before legal age,' she thought, rubbing her forehead with the palm of her hand, a Canary diamond gleaming from her finger. 'Shit like this...'
Adding to her ire, Rocsi made it up in her mind that she really couldn't stand the snobby bitch who was teaching ; she was also hungry. A protein bar first thing in the morning not only gave her the tummy bubbles, but a heinous migraine. She needed real food. She had skipped cooking breakfast, assuming her cousin ,Shanelle , was going to carpool with her, but at the last minute, The Teen Club President decided to inform her multi-ethnic cousin that Buck Huckster had a car sent to take her to school. “Well la-de-fuckin'da, good for you Madame President bitch. Let a guy dangle with your sense of responsibility,” Rocsi had said on the phone, not caring if Shanelle took offense or not. Nice gestures don't equal rudeness.
Or maybe Rocksi was overreacting. After all, Shanelle could finally get some sweet, sweet loving before she became so “uptight” she'd be shit outta luck on her monthly cycle. Chester Mc Tech, the little Knght in Shining LabCoat, had offered Rocsi a lift in a DeLorean that was was designed like a hovercraft. Literally, they flew above the Beverly Hills traffic Jetson style. Nice.
Madame Adele Braconnier, the instructor, the “bitch” , an exchange graduate student from Versailles, was short, about 5'5, with a Victoria Beckham haircut, aquiline nose, and hazel eyes. Only a few boys sat in the front. Rocksi guessed they really wanted to excel in the class, or get a look at the Madame's ass...or lack therof.
Uncomfortable, out of her element, Rocksi shifted, her leather, slimfit overalls, wrinkling at the shins as she crossed her legs at the ankles. Her head was throbbing; in three days there would be a take-home exam assigned. Fixing her black bra strap under her white wife beater, she made a face, proving her disgust. The French Croissant was outta her damn gourd.
”Classe que vous êtes autorisé à avoir un partenaire pour le test de prendre la maison. Assurez-vous que vos deux noms sont sur le projet final et toutes les notes utilisées doivent être joints; Class you are allowed to have one partner for the take home test. Just make sure that both your names are on the final draft and all notes used must be attached,” said Madame Braconnier, her soft pink cowl neck sweater from Givenchy and tailored black slacks from Tory Birch caressing her light frame. “For those of you who seem to be...eh struggling....”
Madame B's eyes locked first with Bianca Dupree's green slits, then shifted to Rocksi's. Rocksi, never one to be singled out, raised a stern eyebrow, wanting badly to give the French twit a French-manicured “bird”.
”You may want to take advantage of your classmates who are doing well and ask them to be your tutors instead of tanning at the Teen Club,” Madame B offered. Rocksi and Bianca looked at one another, their desks positioned parallel rows. Bianca's expensive perfume had caused Rocksi to sneeze earlier. When a woman doused in that much perfume, she was either leaving the gym or she'd engaged in some morning nookie right before coming to school. Bianca's cheeks were amazingly glowy, and her hair, styled in tumbling waves like a Kardashian, was a bit tousled.
'Wilshire fucked her early this morning...that's probably why she was late,' Rocksi pondered, playing with her lip ring. Incidentally, her eyes trailed over to the left side of the class where Wilshire, ever so studious, was sitting in the very front desk typing down some notes on his MacBook, while Pierce sat two desks behind him, smirking at something on his phone.
Pierce Thorndyke III, dressed in a pale blue Tommy Hilfiger button down shirt, pressed khakis, and blue Sperry's, resembled a model from a magazine. Rocksi, her teeth nibbling at her lower lip, exhaled through her nose. Just the look of him, the scent of him, made her want to cry out.
'The unscrupulous things I would do to that boy,' she thought, narrowing her hazel-green eyes at Madam B once again. If she didn't ask Pierce to be her partner, her average would drop, and that would be a burr in her ass. The schools in California were so different from the ones in New York. New York was bit more strict, a bit more clear-cut and blunt. California schools seemed to be more laid back, nonchalant. Rocksi knew her cousin, Shanelle, was smart; but how in the hell was Larke Tanner tied with her for possible valedictorian? Did Larke have a brain in the midst of the bubbles or was Rocksi being too judgmental?
Like a miracle, the belltone to dismiss classes rang. Whereas her fellow classmates scurried like bats outta hell, Rocksi was in no absolute hurry. Why she decided to break in her brand new strappy, gladiator stilettoes from Zara, she'd never know. They were the shoes she was planning on wearing for her date with Gig. No time like the present she supposed.
Taken aback, Rocksi looked up, seeing Pierce Thorndyke preppy and handsome, his gold Gucci-link chain gleaming against his evenly tan skin, and his smile perfectly white standing by her desk, his CAD in hand.
”Merci', Pierce,” she answered with a chuckle, closing her gold-plated laptop her parents had specialty designed for her. “Can you hand me my laptop bag on the floor?
”Tout pour vous, jolie fille,” Pierce answered, bending down to retrieve her laptop bag. Rocksi, wrinkling her brow, nodded her 'thanks,'
”Did you...just call me Angelina Jolie?” she asked, unzipping the case. Pierce laughed aloud. The poor girl indeed was in need of tutoring.
”No, Areli, I said 'Anything for you, pretty girl,'” he answered, calling her by her given name. Rocksi stopped, her hand on top of her laptop. Turning her body towards Pierce, she noticed he was still crouched, holding his CAD in one hand, face to face with her.
”Would you mind helping me? I'm not trying to fail this class.” she asked soberly, trying her best not to fall so deep into those violet chasms he called eyes. Pierce, catching wind of the quirk of her brow, smirked.
”Sure, when are you available? I have a very nice study at my house where it's quiet, and no one will bother us. I can even tan at the same time while I help you consummate...I mean conjugate,” he reverbed.
Rocki's neck jerked. Shaking her head from the left to the right, she laughed. Pierce, slightly embarrassed, laughed, in hopes of playing off his Freudian slip. Getting tongue-tied in conversation with a pretty girl was foreign to him. Then again, Rocksi was a different breed.
”Where are you going, now?” he asked curiously, standing to his feet. Rocksi, zipping the bag closed, looked up at Pierce with a puzzled glance. From her peripheral, she noticed Madam B “checking” her lesson plans on her Ipad, probably listening to their conversation. Nosey bitch.
”I need to find some food. I'm freakin' starvin;...running on a protein bar,” she answered, getting up from the desk, getting a whiff of Pierce's cologne. “I don't know what I have a craving for though...Moroccan, Ethiopian...”
”French? How about French?” Pierce offered eagerly, rubbing his nose nervously. “There's this lovely French cafe' called 'Champagne' out on South Beverly Drive. They have really good escargot, crepes..foie gras...”
”Pierce Thorndyke, is this your subtle way of feeding me and keeping me from failing?” asked Rocksi, with a lovely smile, adjusting her earring with a slender finger. “I can catch the hint.”
Caught off guard at her inadvertent acceptance, Pierce's voice almost caught in his throat. Rocksi's skin was a smooth, decadent shade of golden caramel that make her eyes seem inhuman, almost feline. Her unique features and edgy style forced Pierce's curiosity, especially, since she was not his usual type.
”My dear you are indedd perceptive,” he answered with a comical nod. “Is it safe to assume you are accepting my proposal, Areli?” Like a distinguished gentleman, Pierce offered her a very strong arm. “Shall we Mademoiselle?”
Rocksi's heart fluttered against her chest. Silently, she looped her arm through Pierce's, chills running through her spine. Pierce smiled, nodding toward the classroom door.
”Oui Monsiuer,” she answered, loud enough for anyone remaining in the classroom to hear.
Follow me on Twitter: @MissJayna|
According to my okaa-san, I started drawing at the age of 18 months. She still has my first piece of artwork in the family album in our old house. i used to draw comics based on my favorite Saturday morning cartoons like "Jem" and"Ghostbusters" and basically just drew all the time. I also designed fashion when I was a teenager. I started writing fanfics in 2002 for other fandoms and am happily writing fanfics on deviant art
What are you're favorite makeup brands?
- In no particular order: IT Cosmetics, MAC, Kat Von D, Urban Decay and NYX.
Favorite haircare brands?
-TIGI BedHead, Big Sexy Hair, Nexxus, Paul Mitchell, Kinky Curly, Design Essentials and Redken
Favorite Skin Care line?
-This is dependent on the client's skin care needs and I use products prescribed by my Dermatologist
How do you plan your commissions?
I have to really analyze and judge just how important the scene will be visually. I m also inspired by music, culture and colors. There is always some type of symbolism in all of the pieces I commission.
Are your OC's based on you?
-Actually, my Oc's are based on women that I wish I WAS when I was there age(s). I wish I had the confidence they had...not to mention their wealth.
Are you gonna model anytime soon?
Will you compete in bodybuilding/figure again?
-Probably! It's a little tough to get a workout in nowadays, but i haven't abandoned the weights, trust me. In fact I go mall walking early in the morning with the senior citizens
How many piercings are in your navel?
-Living in the country, mosquitos, fleas, roaches, racist people who try to fake it, people who are rude for no reason, people who walk slow in front of me when i have to pee, acne, acne scars, people who dont wipe off their sweat on the gym equipment, and people with no sense of humor.
My momma, my cats, my Kindle Fire, my fanfics, my devart friends, my earring collections, my hair when it's red, plums, sakura blossoms, waterproof black liquid eyeliner, Kat Von D, makeup, and bright colors.
Current Residence: North Carolina
deviantWEAR sizing preference: small
Print preference: smallest
Favourite genre of music: All types
Favourite photographer: Too many to name
Favourite style of art: Renaissance, Comic, Semi-Realism, Manga, Makeup artistry
Operating System: Windows 7
MP3 player of choice: Ipod
Shell of choice: Cheetah print!
Skin of choice: Smooth, not hairy
Favourite cartoon/anime character: Jem!!!!! Thundercats! Kouga!
Personal Quote: what now? kthankxbye!