Craving Novel Novels & Stories

I wanted him in a way that was, oh so tempting. Want and crave are different. Want is safe. You can be on a diet and want a chocolate bar, but it doesn’t mean you’ll give in. If you’re on that diet and you crave a chocolate bar, you can bet your ass you’ll have that chocolate. And when you crave, you’ll rationalize it. You’ll give yourself a thousand good reasons why it’s okay to have that one little chocolate bar. It won’t hurt. It’s just one. My body tingled with the very thought of having Ivan inside me once more. All it will take for the want to turn to a craving is perhaps something as simple as a single touch from him. Then I could have him, have his body, just one more time.

AMARA’S P.O.V I stayed in the kitchen long after Marcus disappeared upstairs. My hands wrapped around the mug like it was the only thing keeping me steady, though the coffee inside had already gone cold. The porcelain pressed into my skin until my fingers turned red. I knew I should set it down before it slipped and shattered, but part of me almost wanted it to. Maybe the sound of something breaking would match what was happening inside me. The house felt heavier than usual. Like the walls were made of cement blocks stacked on my chest. Every corner was too quiet, too polished. Even the ticking of the clock on the wall grated against my nerves. I hated how normal everything looked when nothi

On the table sat a stack of books. I frowned and pushed myself upright, dragging the chain as I reached for them. One by one, I flipped through the covers. They were all novels. Romance. Drama. Fiction. Why? The question echoed in my head, unanswered. None of it made sense. I had expected a dungeon. A cell. Something cold and empty. Not a house filled with food, a television, and books carefully left behind like a peace offering. It felt wrong. Almost cruel in a different way. Why wasn't he punishing me yet for killing his guard?

If he shows me everything he’s been holding back. My chest tightens. “I want him to prove it,” I whisper. Prove that this—whatever this is—isn’t just a game. I got up again, and walked to the window. The night is still, the moon is bright tonight, almost too bright. I rest my hand against the glass. “In werewolf books,” I murmur softly, “this would be perfect night to mate.” Clover snorts behind me. “Here we go again.” I don’t respond, because right now, it doesn’t feel like fiction. It feels like something is building, something I don’t fully understand yet.

my mom, whom I had long forgotten was still on the bed, said as she snuggle toward me and Olivia before spanking our pussy, the impact prompted our body to jolt up in unison. “Good job, girls,” my mom added, winking her eyes at us. Then Mr. Frank grabbed my mother’s chin, lifted her head, and planted a fierce kiss on her lips. Just watching them kiss passionately, I instantly became aroused once more. *** Author’s notes: Hello, dear readers! If you’ve made it to this chapter, it means this story has captured your interest, and for that, I’m truly grateful. If you’re enjoying the novel, please consider leaving a review. Your reviews help boost the novel’s visibility and allow it to reach more

Puffy eyes, coffee-stained shoes, and the expression of someone who had just been proposed to by a psychopath wearing her best friend’s face. I dropped into an empty seat near the window, clutching my boarding pass so tightly it crumpled in my fist. My heart was still racing, and my wolf wouldn’t stop pacing inside me, whining and howling inside my chest. Every step I took away from that corner felt heavier than the last, like invisible chains were trying to pull me back to him. ‘You slapped our mate.’ I clenched my jaw so hard it hurt. Shut up. I had barely managed to shut my wolf up when Mia’s voice crawled back into my head.

I couldn’t leave my room that day. Not after the close call. I stayed curled under the covers, body still throbbing from Mason’s tongue, mind replaying every filthy word and the dangerous hunger in his eyes. The ache between my legs refused to fade. I wanted him. Needed him. The forbidden pull had become unbearable. By morning, the craving consumed me completely. I slipped downstairs in nothing but a tiny pair of shorts that barely covered my ass, the fabric riding up with every step. The house was quiet. I poured myself a hot cup of coffee, the steam rising like my own restless heat.

Adrian licked her through it, then stood, kissing her so she could taste herself on his lips. “Now, the real research begins.” He turned her to face the shelves, lifting her skirt again. His belt buckle clicked softly as he freed his cock, the head nudging her entrance. “Ask permission,” he murmured, teasing her slick folds. “Please, Adrian… fuck me among the books. I need you.” He pushed in slowly, inch by inch, savoring her tight heat. “So wet. So ready for your librarian.” Fully seated, he groaned low. “Fuck, you feel incredible.”

Ruby's pov I braced my feet against the headboard, my thighs shaking as I stared at my phone screen. The video playing on it was loud, but it wasn't enough. I needed more. I was so sex-deprived it felt like a sickness. Carl hadn't touched me in months, and when he did, it was over in two minutes before he rolled over and went to sleep. I couldn't live like this anymore. The frustration had built up inside me until I felt like I was going to explode.

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.