Adicción Perfecta Novels & Stories

“You’ve given me everything I never knew I needed. Your massive cock owning every inch of me, the BDSM pushing my body and mind to their limits, the voyeuristic thrill with Alex and Elena watching and participating, the risks that made every fuck feel alive, and the profound love and aftercare that grounds it all... this is our perfect, happy life. I’m yours forever, your addicted slut, your partner, your everything. No matter what the future brings, our flames will never dim.” We made slow, gentle love one final time that morning, missionary, eyes locked, his thick cock grinding deep inside me as we came together softly, reaffirming our eternal bond. The novel of our lives would continue in

After catching my supposedly frigid wife, Emmy Winslow, aroused by our household robot butler, I swallowed my disgust and sent the machine to a destruction facility. I never expected that decision to cost her life. On the way to chase after the robot, Emmy was involved in a horrific car accident and died at the scene. From that day on, I became notorious in our social circle as the jealous husband who drove his wife to her death. Five years passed. Night after night, I tortured myself by wondering if she would still be alive had I not been so petty over a machine. Until today, while discussing business at a private club, I passed a half-open VIP suite and heard one of Emmy's closest frie

Is Tukijo going to give them a cheat sheet? __________ 1. Santet is a person's attempt to harm another person remotely by using black magic.

I imagined him walking outside the room because his background just went quiet. “Tara, I miss you,” He said in a low voice, making me suck for air. I closed my eyes, imagining him beside me. Blake is a drug affecting my brain, making it difficult for me to resist wanting and needing him for a reason I don’t know. I am so addicted to him. There was a few seconds of silence between us. “Tara, I’m crazy about you, and I can’t stop thinking about you...” He went quiet again. “And I’m about to do something I have never done in my entire life.”

"I know." Bash heard Madeline say, but he didn't notice how she clenched her right hand at her side. "He is more like a son to me. My husband brought him to me when he was that kid's age." Catherina put down her tea and looked at the child she adopted last year from a nearby orphanage she sponsored. The boy couldn't talk, but she told no one anything about his disability. "We had to do everything to make him normal like other kids, but part of him broke when his uncle passed away."

her voice hardened, teeth gritted, as her eyes blazed with a fury that held the promise of vengeance. “It’s crazy what risk people are willing to take when they are in debt.” Juan blurted out. Valerie squinted a brow, showing her confusion. “I was referring to the doctor I had to bribe to forge your death certificate.” He clarified as she listened intently. “We almost would not have been able to pull this off if he didn’t have a loophole. He is addicted to gambling and owes a lot in loans. I promised to help him with that and in return, he willingly provided the body of an unclaimed deceased woman who was a perfect match.”

I didn’t dare to make eye contact, knowing that meeting his gaze would only make the night more unbearable. Frederick was a strict and overbearing perfectionist. He despised any sign of imperfection, especially in front of his business associates and friends. He couldn't stand it when I fell short of his high standards, even in the smallest ways. His suffocating attitude was the reason I had left home before I even turned eighteen.

The third missed target and landed beyond my mouth, but I used my finger to clean and licked it off of it, addicted to the cranky taste of him. He’s my heaven, my addiction, and my absolute ruin.

D̶e̶a̶r̶ ̶G̶a̶r̶y̶ ̶D̶e̶a̶r̶ ̶E̶v̶e̶y̶o̶n̶ ̶D̶e̶a̶r̶ ̶E̶v̶e̶r̶y̶o̶n̶e̶ I need to be alone Please don't look for me It's better I̶'̶m̶ ̶g̶o̶n̶e̶ ̶I̶ ̶l̶e̶a̶v̶e̶ this way I'm so sorry — Rowena Things needed to be kept brief. There was no time to say anything else. She had to get out before the others woke up. Or else she would never get to walk away. It was now or never.

The tenth time my parents flew more than six thousand miles to meet their future son-in-law, Nathaniel Prescott refused to show up. He ignored my calls and never replied to any messages. After God knew how many cups of coffee, I received an update from my best friend, Isla Monroe. Eight photos of snowy scenery surrounded a picture of two intertwined hands. The caption read: “Check-in number ten. He's perfect in every way.” My fingers curled into tight fists. It took twenty-seven calls before Nathaniel finally answered. “Where are you?” Howling wind rushed through the phone, followed by his distracted voice. “Out. What’s up?” “What’s up? This is the tenth time! My parents flew all