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His name alone was enough to curdle my blood and kill whatever faint appetite I had left. Or maybe... maybe I was lying to myself. Maybe I wasn’t as disgusted as I wanted to be. Maybe deep down, I craved it—craving the taste of something warm, something that might hush the raging storm churning inside me. But pride... pride is a cruel, relentless master. It wrapped its hands around my throat, squeezing, keeping me chained, refusing to let me give in so easily.

BOOK 3: CHAPTER 61: Unholy Addiction “Oh my God…” she cries out, her voice loud, raw, and soaked in overwhelming pleasure. Moans spill from her lips like confessions—explicit, fevered, and uncontrollable. Lust, dark and consuming, pervades every inch of her senses, stealing her breath and reason.

I wanted more, sucking and swirling on the digits, drinking in her juices until nothing was left. “I want more.” I breathed heavily, buzzing with elation while the craving turned into an abyss. “Let me have a taste of that gorgeous pussy.” A taste isn’t enough; I wanted a feast.

I am at his mercy. “Nooo!” I cry as he slides out so slowly, making me feel the emptiness inch by inch. I clench my inner walls with all my might, trying to clamp his tongue and stop him from leaving. Of course, it doesn’t work, and I feel my eyes water at the absence of pressure inside me. That little tease awakens a hunger in me I didn't know I possessed. I’m craving him so bad that I’m willing to beg for it. “Please.”

Dean squeezes my hand gently, reassuringly. ~*~ That evening I'm laying in bed between two overgrown men, reading a book, but I can't concentrate. There's a craving I've been having since 2:30 this afternoon and I can't seem to get over it. I can't figure out what I want. It's driving me nuts. Everything else makes me vomit. I throw the book at the wall and grumble to myself. Dean chuckles and Holden sighs. "Cravings?" "No shit!" I retort.

She tasted like sweet vanilla and slick, hot juice. "Ah!" Elena screamed, her knees buckling. She had to rest her entire upper body on the desk to keep from falling. I didn't show any mercy. I licked her violently, my tongue darting inside her wet canal before coming up to swirl around her asshole. My hands moved to her round, bouncing cheeks, squeezing and parting her ass so I could press my tongue against every single inch of her butt. Her legs were shaking so violently I could feel the muscle spasms under my palms. Her moans increased, turning into loud, echoing shrieks that I was absolutely certain the neighbors or anyone on the street could hear.

Its rich taste made me want more. I sat, taking sip after sip, and I could feel myself get tipsy. I did not care tho, I was going to drink away my heartbreak. I was beginning to get hot. I fanned myself with my hand, trying to cool off, but of course it had little to no effect. The sound of my phone vibrating made me wrinkle my nose. I took it out to see that it was Andrew. “What else do you want?” I asked once I took the phone to my ear.

He stares at my mouth. A beat passes. He grabbed his drink and downed it. He passes me the spoon and the pint of ice cream. Angling himself to the side and taking another sip of his scotch. Caramel is my favorite and I’ve never said no to free food so I happily take the spoon and scoop more into my mouth. The deliciousness of it distracts me again. A few seconds later, it seemed that Mr. Cane wanted to torture me more because he presented me with his mouth-watering abdominal muscles in full view.

“My body jerks like it's attempting to save itself, but I continue pushing and that triggers something and my brain goes foggy. My throat swallows, and it goes further. That is the point at which the astonishing frenzy thing occurs when I can't relax. My body heaves to save itself, yet I push it more profound and my throat gets generally delicious, similar to as having a climax. Then there's no restriction, I can take every last bit of it, and it gets me so energized I nearly get off. You ought to attempt it.” He gazed at her in dismay. “No,” he said, “I shouldn't. Is there something wrong with you?” “I have to strongly disagree if something is wrong,” she said. “For what reason do you need

I collapse on the floor, burning hot, dizzy—like my whole body is on edge, unraveling. “The hell, Sunshine? Talk to me. What the hell’s going on?” I look up at him, breathless, my palm against the cold tile. And just when I thought the nausea had passed, something worse hits— a craving. A very specific craving. My mouth goes dry. My tongue feels foreign. I blink, wide-eyed. “I’m craving red oranges,” I whisper. Of all things. Red. Freaking. Oranges.