Read Online Positive/Negativity by D.D. Lorenzo - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: D.D. Lorenzo
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powerful emotions erupted for both Aria and Declan, as thoughts of breathing, and all else, became irrelevant…
T If I Could be Her – ZZ Ward
TT Question Existing – Rihanna
TTT Oh My – Gin Wigmore
Marisol Franzi was considered one of the world’s most beautiful women, and her photographs graced the covers of practically every fashion magazine. She was consistently in high demand with nearly every major fashion designer. Due to her fame and success, virtually everyone who was anyone wanted to be in her presence. Marisol never lacked invitations to the most exclusive parties, the latest popular night clubs, or paramount elegant events. Paparazzi followed her constantly. She could be seen keeping company with the world’s most eligible bachelors on multimillion dollar yachts, private islands, or posh European villas. Reports of her activities and escapades were continually chronicled on nightly news and gossip shows. She was a woman who lived by her own rules; she did as she wanted, where she wanted, and with whom she wanted. She was refused nothing because she didn’t take “no” for an answer. Another reason she was rarely declined anything she desired was due to reports of her malevolent temper. The one thing she coveted most that she hadn’t been able to obtain was Declan Sinclair.
Declan and Marisol were frequently photographed together. Their looks complimented each other dramatically, which made them highly desirable to clients. The two were incessantly in high demand. Marisol was well aware of how magnificently striking a couple they appeared. She, herself, thought that Declan was a beautiful and desirable man. Marisol, who rarely gave thought to anything other than herself, found that she was lingering on thoughts of Declan more times than she cared to. At times, she thought of him to distraction, which caused her distress. Marisol didn’t like not getting what she wanted—Declan. T
Marisol admired and was attracted to the powerful way in which Declan carried himself; it intrigued her. He displayed himself with a strong and quiet confidence, and she found herself drawn to that air of self-assurance. He was physically pleasing to watch, and she found that her eyes lingered while viewing his preparations for photo shoots. As the hair stylists coiffed his hair, she longed to run her fingers through it. She stared as make-up artists ran their fingers and brushes over his cheekbones and down his strong jaw line, and she imagined her hands lingering there. When Declan was completely dressed for a particular campaign, she admired him in a fully dressed suit. Marisol had found that, over the years, she preferred Declan in less clothing, rather than more. The skimpier the attire he wore, the better she liked it. They were frequently posed so that they’d be touching each other intimately, and she did not protest those stances, not one little bit.
There was little of Declan Sinclair that Marisol Franzi did not find to her liking. What she had found distasteful was the company she found Declan keeping of late.
Declan had been accepting less than a normal amount of commercial print work. The rumor amongst their circles was that his thoughts were to gracefully bow out of the spotlight and invest himself in more of the business side of the modeling profession. It was said that Declan had been trying to keep it quiet, but theirs was not an industry without a generous amount of gossip, as tabloid sales would confirm. Marisol loved gossip as much as the next person, but with regard to Declan, she only wanted more of the facts. He hadn’t yet succumbed to her charms, and charm him she would. She was determined to have more accessibility to him, not less. She, herself, had no intentions of taking less work; she wanted as much visibility as possible. She knew that she was more marketable with Declan as they were a photographic dream team. Photographers said that they were stunning together, and
T If I Could be Her – ZZ Ward
TT Question Existing – Rihanna
TTT Oh My – Gin Wigmore
Marisol Franzi was considered one of the world’s most beautiful women, and her photographs graced the covers of practically every fashion magazine. She was consistently in high demand with nearly every major fashion designer. Due to her fame and success, virtually everyone who was anyone wanted to be in her presence. Marisol never lacked invitations to the most exclusive parties, the latest popular night clubs, or paramount elegant events. Paparazzi followed her constantly. She could be seen keeping company with the world’s most eligible bachelors on multimillion dollar yachts, private islands, or posh European villas. Reports of her activities and escapades were continually chronicled on nightly news and gossip shows. She was a woman who lived by her own rules; she did as she wanted, where she wanted, and with whom she wanted. She was refused nothing because she didn’t take “no” for an answer. Another reason she was rarely declined anything she desired was due to reports of her malevolent temper. The one thing she coveted most that she hadn’t been able to obtain was Declan Sinclair.
Declan and Marisol were frequently photographed together. Their looks complimented each other dramatically, which made them highly desirable to clients. The two were incessantly in high demand. Marisol was well aware of how magnificently striking a couple they appeared. She, herself, thought that Declan was a beautiful and desirable man. Marisol, who rarely gave thought to anything other than herself, found that she was lingering on thoughts of Declan more times than she cared to. At times, she thought of him to distraction, which caused her distress. Marisol didn’t like not getting what she wanted—Declan. T
Marisol admired and was attracted to the powerful way in which Declan carried himself; it intrigued her. He displayed himself with a strong and quiet confidence, and she found herself drawn to that air of self-assurance. He was physically pleasing to watch, and she found that her eyes lingered while viewing his preparations for photo shoots. As the hair stylists coiffed his hair, she longed to run her fingers through it. She stared as make-up artists ran their fingers and brushes over his cheekbones and down his strong jaw line, and she imagined her hands lingering there. When Declan was completely dressed for a particular campaign, she admired him in a fully dressed suit. Marisol had found that, over the years, she preferred Declan in less clothing, rather than more. The skimpier the attire he wore, the better she liked it. They were frequently posed so that they’d be touching each other intimately, and she did not protest those stances, not one little bit.
There was little of Declan Sinclair that Marisol Franzi did not find to her liking. What she had found distasteful was the company she found Declan keeping of late.
Declan had been accepting less than a normal amount of commercial print work. The rumor amongst their circles was that his thoughts were to gracefully bow out of the spotlight and invest himself in more of the business side of the modeling profession. It was said that Declan had been trying to keep it quiet, but theirs was not an industry without a generous amount of gossip, as tabloid sales would confirm. Marisol loved gossip as much as the next person, but with regard to Declan, she only wanted more of the facts. He hadn’t yet succumbed to her charms, and charm him she would. She was determined to have more accessibility to him, not less. She, herself, had no intentions of taking less work; she wanted as much visibility as possible. She knew that she was more marketable with Declan as they were a photographic dream team. Photographers said that they were stunning together, and
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