Addicted To You Krista Ritchie Novels & Stories

"You're... unique…" “Sweetheart…” “I want you, Neve… Only you… I want you so badly I can't do anything without seeing you, feeling you, tasting you… You got me so addicted to you…" An anguished sound was torn from his throat just a heartbeat before his mouth fused with hers again. He kissed her fiercely, his tongue plowing deep with undisciplined passion. Again, his hand pushed slightly aside the robe and found her breast. Aiden kneaded it possessively. Her nipple pearled beneath the finessing of his thumb and they both shuddered under the impact of inundating desire.

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

She teased and he chuckled. "You love me like that. Don't lie. You like the whole of me and I'm obsessed with the whole of you, addicted even." He said, quietly and she could feel the breeze around her too. Her heart skipped a bit at his phone confession. "I'm addicted to you, Bella Mia. Fuçkin addicted, and I hate the thought of being set free from this addiction. Cage me like a bird on your palm with your fingers, I don't mind. I would do anything for you. No matter what."

My fingers kept moving, slow circles over the swollen head. “You love me too much to watch me stop breathing. More than you ever loved her. Everything you couldn’t give her—every dark thing, every brutal thing—you’ve already poured into me. You’ve fucked me raw in ways you never dared with her. You’ve bruised me, marked me, made me cry and beg and come so hard I black out. And you’d give me more. Because I can take it. I crave it. I come harder when you hurt me just right. I beg louder when you remind me I’m nothing without your cock splitting me open. I’m addicted to the way you own me, break me, rebuild me around your dick.”

With him this close, I can barely think, and I hate how badly I already need him, like he's some kind of drug my body has gotten addicted to. The worst part is knowing that wanting him like this is exactly what they called me, slut, whore, homewrecker. Right now, I don't fucking care. We're parked on the side of a dark road in the middle of a raging storm, with rain hammering against the windows, and yet somehow, I still hear myself say the words. “Fuck me.” Cassian goes completely still. His jaw flexes, and his hands tighten around my face as though he's fighting a battle with himself.

At a mind distance, he could feel his wolf was numb, not howling in pleasure as it should be since he was making out with their mate. But the drugs were totally effective, put in the right amount; and he stroked and stroked, in and out, until the girl cummed hard on his fingers. "Derek..." She breathed out, already unbuckling his belt, and he couldn't stop it. He was weak. But why should he? It was his little witch. She was almost done with it, when the door burst open. He swerved his head tiredly to look and cast off the intruder, when he saw them.

Silence follows. I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding. "Let's get you out of here," Lou murmurs, leading me to the car. Later, in the backseat, I stare at my phone, heart hammering as I read the headline from 'The Campus Scoop': ‘Monroe’s Millions Can’t Buy Loyalty: Heiress Dumped for Boyfriend’s Secret Gay Affair.’ Oh. My. God. My grip tightens on the phone. "Fuck!"

It fueled the fire within me to break him, to dismantle his resistance piece by agonizing piece, and then to remold him into the perfect image of my desire: a submissive possession, utterly devoted and compliant. I swear, I felt like I'd stumbled upon some potent, addictive drug. Tristan was that drug, an intoxicating addiction that sunk its claws into me the moment I first tasted him. I already bedded countless men and women, each encounter a fleeting amusement, a temporary distraction. None of them had even come close to igniting the fire that Tristan had unleashed within me.

She screams his name, hips twitching and jerking while he keeps licking through every pulse, drinking her down until she’s shaking and oversensitive. She shudders, every muscle contracting, her hands fisted in his hair tight, holding him there as she rides out the orgasm. Kristopher drinks her through it, until the last tremor fades, and only then does he lift his head. His chin is slick. His eyes are burning. “I'm addicted, babe. I don't know what I'll do without you,” he says, and Aida laughs breathlessly, pulling him up. He rises over her, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand. His cock is rock-hard, the head dark and leaking. Aida is still trembling when he positions himself over her.

My name was Lindsey Hawthorn, and I had struggled with this compulsion for as long as I could remember. Everyone always thought I was a good, quiet girl, but only I knew the truth—the intense, almost unbearable craving I had for men. Just the sight of a strong, muscular man was enough to make me weak. By the time I reached college, this need had completely spiraled out of control. Sometimes, even the slightest friction while walking would trigger an overwhelming release. People would stare, probably thinking I had wet myself.