Addicted Chinese Novels & Stories

“Even when he comes back, you’ll still sneak over here every chance you get. Mommy still needs her young cock. And you’re going to keep feeding it to me, aren’t you, baby?” Jake nodded, already addicted beyond saving. “Yes, Mommy.”

I was addicted to her in the way a man craves the very toxin that might one day destroy him. Note: updating two chapters today! Next chapter in the next ten minutes. Don't forget to leave your comments about the chapter.

The taste of us mixed together was filthy and addictive. This was only round two of the night. And I was already addicted to being used.

Security wasn't needed if anyone made a wrong move he wouldn't think twice about killing them on the spot. Jack waited until the crowd at the stage died down. He wanted to tip her. After all he owed her that much even if she never spoke to him again. He dug in his pockets to see what he had on him. Jack found the hundred dollar bill that he set aside. He was going to use this money to aid his habit during the work week. "Damn it!" he scuffed. It would come down to this wouldn't it. He left her side to feed the beast within but never felt satisfied. The beasts hunger grew with every passing week and it never was enough. He was faced with the same decision that tore them apart. Be addicted or

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.”

She couldn't help it; she was addicted. Wild orgies were her weakness, the videos that got her off faster than anything else. Bodies tangled in sweaty, heaving heaps, skin slick and shining under low lights, thick cocks plunging relentlessly into eager, dripping pussies and tight asses, stretching them wide with every brutal thrust. Mouths devouring everything in sight—cocks, clits, balls, and pussies—slurping and sucking with greedy abandon. Cum splattering across skin like a forbidden rain, thick ropes shooting over faces, tits, and open mouths, dripping down chins and pooling in navels.

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.

"I know you have been stalking me. How long has it been going on like that? To meet your grandfather, you stoop this low, like paying those homeless people there to kill me? What? Did you plan to meet him in the morgue or graveyard?" Her back stiffened as Bash used that word. Graveyard. It triggered a memory that she had to shake away from her mind. "It's your...mental breakdown talking. It's okay. I can feel you." She lowered her gaze, not wanting Bash to see her red-rimmed eyes. Trying hard to keep her emotions at bay, she ranted, "That is normal after what happened to you in that street. People there can be violent because of poverty, unemployment, and addiction that an addict can't get r

It was the perfect plan. Next read: The Perfect Plan, it’s a spinoff of Addicted to You and features Travis’ and Tiffany’s story.

His voice in my head. Lane’s voice too—quieter, steadier. “Addiction is often just an ache for something that feels like power.” What did Jason make me feel? Wanted. Needed. Destroyed. He gave me the illusion of power by taking all of it away. And now… I didn’t know if I missed him, or the part of me that didn’t know any better. I woke up the next morning to a message from an unknown number. “He won’t love you when he finds out what you are.”