Adrenaline Addicts Novels & Stories

She grabbed the bottle of water near her bed stand and gulped it down. Her hands shook as she sat on the floor, holding onto her hair tightly almost tearing it away from the scalp. She had to do something to ensure Jaylen ate out of her palms. She needed a steady income and that can only come from someone as financially independent as Jaylen. Something Adriel kept to herself, was her addiction to pills and all was due to her affiliation with Brandon during their college days and she fell prey.

There was a small part of me that was secretly sad that he had said no. The exhilaration that he builds in me is like no other. Adrenaline would viciously pump in my veins with utter lust and desire for him. My pussy throbs for him. It was a nightmare to admit that but it’s better than denying it. He pined himself on a chase for me and wanted me only when I was fully sober so that I would remember every moment. I would say that one time with him and the lust would leave the system. However, I and I both know that isn’t true. The lust would cause an addiction that I couldn’t spare to have. He would love that from me but it isn’t healthy. Not for me anyway.

My body relaxed just enough to drift, but the ache, the want, the heat remained raw and alive, steaming under my skin even as darkness claimed my consciousness. I couldn’t wait for what tomorrow had in store.

She nodded her head. "And you?" "A person who'd love me for who I am. My biggest supporter, my crime partner, adrenaline junkie would be a plus point, must be taller than me, mature, strong, loyal, caring, the list goes on," She chuckled awkwardly. "I see, I'm an adrenaline junkie, so do I get a plus point?" "You do," she said. "What are your goals, Angela?" He asked. "Well for now I want to complete my studies and grow my channel. After graduating I'm planning to start my business of bikes import and export. Might as well, I'll create my brand, I believe in thinking big," she said sheepishly.

“What do you mean by misadventure?” Julie shrugged as she settled her robe around her. “Exactly what I said. I like other people with ADHD craved the excitement that creates dopamine. Some of us find it in creative outlets like art or writing, but most find it in risk taking. Many call them adrenaline junkies. It keeps them sane, but they can put themselves in dangerous situations. Accidents happen, as do crimes. We often give the benefit of the doubt to the wrong people, because we’re unwilling to believe what we see that’s bad in that person.” “You did that with our contract, didn’t you?”

AALIYAH I’m addicted to the thrill. Ever since I informed the three alphas of my slutty game of four that I willed to be played again and their buzzing acceptance, it has been the only thing on my mind. And the day is now before me, my adrenaline rush is unmatched, serving me up for mild destruction. I soak my thick body in the bathtub with warm scented water, doing my scrubbing and massaging to my taste, knowing the triple alphas love their meals neat and smooth.

“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.”

It was the fact of dependence and addiction faster than normal drugs and then orgies but the evil came quickly the power omega pheromones. Like Poison Ivy, the villain went to nightclubs, to which all addicts became orgy centers, but soon after everything went away, the adrenaline and soon the nightmare returned to reality.

I hiss, the word vibrating through my teeth. I don't stop. I tear down the corridor, my heels slapping against the plush carpet. I’m dodging room service carts and terrifying a few early-morning staff members as I follow the phantom echo of his frantic footsteps. My wound protests with every stride—a white-hot, burning ache in my side where Zlliot—"Mike"—tried to open me up like a ledger. Adrenaline is a beautiful, deceptive drug; it drowns out the scream of my nerves and makes it easy to focus on the sway of his silhouette disappearing around the corner.

"The only way to come out of the trauma was through a cocktail of antidepressants, fluoxetine and Adderall. I..." "Wait. Fluoxetine and Adderall?" she asked, curious. "They're antidepressants," he explained. "But when taken excessively, they can trigger hypersexuality. That’s what happened to me. I lost my wife because of it. It’s my fault. I became a sick man in more ways than one."