Best Addiction Books Novels & Stories

He fucked my ass slow and deep that first time, eventually filling it with so much cum it leaked out for hours afterward. But it wasn’t just filth. Between the rough fucking, small moments of tenderness started appearing. He’d pull me into his lap after he’d used me, stroking my hair and kissing my forehead while I trembled in his arms. He told me bits about his life, how he’d grown up rough, how this resort job was his escape. I told him about my fears of not being good enough for college, about feeling invisible before him. The addiction grew stronger every single day.

Lara’s POV The human brain is incredibly good at rationalizing bad behavior when the reward is addictive enough. Back in school, during my long, boring economics lectures, I used to read articles about how addiction actually works. They talked about dopamine pathways, about how the mind quickly replaces survival instincts with a single-minded craving for whatever it’s hooked on. At nineteen, I thought I was far too controlled, far too analytical, to ever lose my grip on reality. But sitting there on the living room couch on our last morning at the island, with Baby Max gurgling happily in my lap, I finally admitted the scary truth. I was hooked. Completely.

I stood there for a second watching him push out into the street with four books and the easy confidence of someone who'd just made a friend in forty seconds that I hadn't managed in five visits. Then I followed him. The coffee next door was, in fact, better. We sat at the bar the way Italians did, standing technically, though we'd claimed two stools at the end. Alex had his new novel open on the counter and was reading the first page while his espresso cooled. "Don't read while you drink that," I said. "Why." "Because it deserves attention." He looked up. Then he looked at the espresso. Then he closed the book. "You have strong opinions about coffee."

The sight was ravishingly tempting, urging him to do something sinful to her. Luca was tempted to be buried deep inside her, but he refrained from doing so. He didn't want to get her mad. She passed out on him last night so he was sure she would be pissed when she'd wake up but then again. When it came to her, he just couldn't get enough of her no matter how much he tried to control himself. She was such an addiction that it scares the f*ck out of him sometimes and yet again he was tempted to devour her all the time.

The top millionaires and billionaires came there to gamble away while some others mainly came there to watch others play, hang around at the casino bar, or watch women sing and perform sexy dances. There wasn't a day that went by that the casino wasn't packed which made me draw a conclusion that having a gambling addiction was worse than that of smoking cigarettes. A man screaming at the receptionist in the lobby caught my attention, making me stop there. And I recognized him immediately. He was an assemblyman and one of the top people I hated so much.

he tapped the papers with his other hand—“just stops us from lying to the calendar.” Elena looked at him. Really looked. The controlled mouth. The dark eyes that had watched her hang and come and shake apart. The man who had named the addiction first so she would not have to carry the word alone. “What happens when it costs us something we can’t buy back?” she asked. “Then we pay it.” No flinch. “I’m not going to tell you it won’t. I’m telling you I’d rather pay it with you in the same city, in the same rope, than watch you try to starve this and fail in separate rooms.”

Sunlight fell in dusty stripes across the Persian rug. It was empty. Peaceful. Or so I thought. I walked to the fiction shelves, my bare feet silent on the rug. My fingers trailed along the familiar spines until they stopped on an old favorite: The Night Circus. A story about magic, secrecy, and a love that defies everything. I pulled it from the shelf, holding the worn cover in my hands. I turned around. He was there. Leaning against the far bookshelf, watching me. A leather-bound book rested in his hands, unopened.

, he urged as his voice shook. "You're......", I gulped. A smile of expectation appeared on his face. "You're my worst addiction, Abraham", I confessed. "Someone who destroys me gradually still gives me the peace I want. And I can't help consuming you enough, I can't stop myself let you consume me", my eyes burnt as he joined his forehead with mine.

I was constantly surprised by how they consumed me. I took a deep breath and stood. “I have to go. I’m sorry.” “Wait.” Mark stood and handed me a card from his pocket. “You ever feel the need for a coffee, call me.” You ever feel the need for a free therapy session over coffee, call me. I curled my fingers around the card and took it. “I will.” “And, Brenda?” He stepped closer to me and pressed two fingers to my temple. “Addiction is all in the mind. So is willpower. You don’t have to succumb to anything you don’t want to.”

I pushed myself out of the bed dragging the duvet along with me and wrapping myself with it tightly. I glanced through the library till my eyes fell on a big book and I squinted at it. The back cover design caught my attention. I didn't bother to know what it was and picked it, pausing as I beheld the front cover. I sighed. It was a Bible. I shook my head and attempted to return it. But I paused. Wait a second..... Maybe it's not such a bad idea. There has to be something in the Bible to help with this current uncontrollable addiction i was developing for my stepdad.