Addicted After All Read Online Novels & Stories

Thanks am coming, let me use the restroom Tracy said and walked out. Ella smile and started reading her novel" when Jasper came and sat sat closed to her smiling. Hi beauty Jasper said with smile plaster on his face". Hi my name is Ella what about you slightly said and smile back in return" nice name for a beautiful lady, am Jasper. She blushed but quickly hide it" I guess this novel will be spicy he said taking the novel"which was on Ella desk. Don't tonch Ella said with a stern look". Why?? Jasper asked raising his eye brows with a questioning look.

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 had never felt so desperate all his life yearning for more of a woman's taste, seriously Mariana was a special flavor. Now he was so sure that Mariana Romano is bad for him, so bad for him. She was a sweet silent addiction

Drugged. ***********

Xavier POV Archer and I always went club for stress reliever. You know hot sex is the best stress reliever if I may say. After drinking a few rounds. Girls immediately flocking at us. Women are always like this. When you have money and looks they will beg for you. And that's exactly what I want. Two girls made their way to me. As the both sit in my lap now. Wow! Well well! What's with this girls up to now? Threesome? Hahaha.. I won't back out!

Living quietly in the same place where everything had happened. That wasn’t normal. People who lost everything usually left. Started over somewhere else. Why hadn’t she? Tiana paced the living room while Vince watched her. “He’s reading about me right now,” she said. He didn’t ask how she knew. He just nodded. “Yes.” She stopped. “Is this where we lose control?” Vince stood. “No. This is where he thinks he’s gaining it.” She stared at him. “And he’s wrong.” Voss picked up his phone.

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.

My chest heaved, my pussy drenched, and my entire body hummed with aftershocks. I stared down at the little thing lying there, still alive, still humming like it hadn't just destroyed me. I slumped to the floor, my heart still pounding like a drum as I realized just how far I'd let myself go. I was already addicted. And yet... I didn't regret a single second. I wanted more. I wanted hands to grope my breasts and a cock slamming into me. It was as if I had just discovered a world I shouldn't, and now I wanted to explore.

A week passed a week of stolen glances across the lawn, of late-night text messages that were more explicit than any p**n script, of a constant, throbbing ache between her legs that only he could soothe. She was addicted. Completely and utterly addicted to him, to the danger, to the raw, primal pleasure he gave her.

The two days leading up to the charity gala were pure torment. My body was a live wire, constantly humming with forbidden need. Every time I closed my eyes, Mr. Rossi’s text burned behind my lids: Beautiful tits and an even prettier pussy. Good girl. Those words had me waking up in the middle of the night with my fingers buried deep inside my soaked cunt, humping my pillow like a desperate slut while moaning his name instead of his son’s. My addiction had shifted, twisted into something darker, more dangerous. Nicolos was safe, familiar. His father was power incarnate—older, commanding, completely off-limits. And that only made me wetter.