Addicted After All Novels & Stories

He was really something else. I made my way towards the bathroom and looked at myself in the mirror. My skin was flushed and there were red marks all over my neck and chest. I traced them with my fingers as a small smile played around the corner of my lips. He does know to pleasure a woman, I'll give him that. God, he was so fucking addicting, like a drug and I couldn’t get enough of him. I thought about all the women who had a share of him and felt a pang of jealously.

Addicted to the way they were making me feel. Safe. Warm. Cherished. Protected. Owned. I took a deep breath that shuddered through my body. The combination of his breath mingling with mine and the tingle of his palm against my neck was heady and intoxicating. The dizzy from his words and the response they’d elicited inside me, I wanted to give in. I wanted to tell him yes. I wanted to tell him we could do that. That, despite our addictions, two opposite poles, we could make it work.

He stood up and walked out of the study “Where are you going to? I didn’t mean it when I said that you should cause trouble!” Xavier yelled after him “I am not going to cause trouble! What the hell? I am going to get a drink!” he said to Xavier He walked to the kitchen and pulled out a glass before walking to the bar and pouring his strongest vodka “I could use a glass too” he heard her say “You are pregnant. You shouldn’t be drinking. No alcohol for you” Jared said “It is just a cup. I am having a hard day!” Alice said

There were multiple missed calls from my mom and several texts asking where I was and if I was okay. I wiped my eyes with the back of my hand as tears kept falling. I scrolled down and saw missed calls and text messages from Adrian too. Adrian: Babe, pick up. Adrian: Where are you? Adrian: I’m sorry. Adrian: Please, let’s talk. I locked the screen and muttered under my breath, “Ass hole.” I took a deep breath and started walking away from the club.

I'm already planning how to get it despite knowing it will destroy everything. I'm addicted. After one encounter in a dark alley, I'm completely fucking addicted. The stalking was supposed to be enough. The watching, the notes, and the controlled distance, it was supposed to satisfy the wanting without ever crossing the line but I crossed it, obliterated it and now there's no going back. I turn off the shower finally, my skin red and raw from the heat. I dry off and then pull on sleep pants. I lie in bed and stare at the ceiling, my mind replaying every second.

I didn’t have any kinks. I strolled away, but I could still hear her moan. Love is a name of the sweetest feelings that comforts you, gives you pleasure, and lets you know you are special, but this was something beyond what I’ve heard about love. Being tormented and the pain you receive when kissed is not love, it is addiction. Especially when you have to beg him to satisfy you.

“This pussy… Jesus.” I held on to him tighter, feeling my legs open as he hit the perfect spot. Every time we hooked up, I went home later and later. We seemed to crave each other more, not less. Our passion turned into something combustible. We couldn’t stop. Not for anything, not for anyone. We were both addicted. “Don’t stop…don’t ever stop.”

They paid double when we kissed and swapped their cum between our mouths. Back home, the addiction consumed us completely. We loved it. The soreness between our legs after a long night, the sticky feeling of dried cum on our skin, the way our pussies throbbed with memories of being stretched and used. “We’re addicted, baby,” Mom moaned one night as she ground her clit against mine after a particularly brutal session with four clients. “And I fucking love it. Your dad’s death left me empty. You filled me with this… this fire.”

“Please. I need the Adagoril. Just one pill. Please.” She studied me. “You look like an addict, honey. Another reason why I can’t give you the Adagoril.” “Please…” I begged. “You know what will happen to me if I don’t take it. I will die. Please, I don’t want to die.” “Then you should have thought about that before becoming an addict.” “It’s not like I chose to be this way,” I retorted, almost yelling. “I didn’t choose to take Adagoril. My aunt made me addicted to it. I only thought that it was something I needed for my heart.”

When he finally removed those fingers from me and replaced them with his thick bulging cock, all I could think of was how I was getting addicted to him– to this kind of living… …to Everything.