Craving The Wrong Man 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.

He covered her face until the woman lost consciousness. Chad, had noticed that the woman had a craving for shellfish, because he caught her, on several occasions, while she stayed, looking with eyes, eager. More, however, he tried to ignore that craving, due to the danger involved, the consumption of these. The man had pretended to go to sleep before the trip so as not to think about those cravings that his wife obviously wanted. And now, a few hours after getting on a plane, the woman decides to eat that food, without telling him, to begin with. The man let out a sigh while she said to herself 'she's still so stubborn, like in the past, maybe that's why she still drives me crazy'. The man b

My heart pounded as I looked up at him, my eyes wide in surprise that a man his age was that fit. He looked down at me with a smirk on his face. “You don’t have to be afraid of me. I will take my time with you, Danilo. And I will treat you right.” This is wrong in so many ways. I am a teenager. He is a married man in his late 40s. I shouldn't feel anything but disgust for him, but right now, I feel both disgusted and aroused. “Mr Beckett, you know in your heart that this is wrong. You can go to prison for this, and you are fucking married. Please stop this,” I said, trying to be the voice of reason.

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.

Lucas, the swimming team captain and the school's biggest playboy, texted. As a response to his text, I roll my eyes and inquire, "Oh, really, when did you have time to think about me when you're busy as usual being a womanizer?" I knew very well last night that he didn't leave without a girl under his arm. Lucas changes girlfriends, just like the days in the calendar. No one has ever seen him with the same girl for two days. And there's a rumor going around school that he loves sex so much that he cannot go without it for a week. He's no different from a vampire who craves blood, but rather a man-whore who enjoys sleeping around with different females.

But no matter how hard I tried to focus on what I was watching, I couldn’t get that man—and everything he did and made me feel—out of my mind. I remembered again Nicky’s suggestion to call and use the services of the male escort I had paid for. Not because I was actually considering following her advice, but because I knew that no man could ever compare to the father of my child. And besides, there’s absolutely no chance that I’ll ever be intimate with another man again. Once more, I felt that desire stirring in my body—something that now seemed like it was here to stay—and I kept trying to fight it off. "This is going to be a long day," I thought to myself.

"Sometimes it's in public. Sometimes I'm tied down. Sometimes he just whispers in my ear and I'm already falling apart. I wake up wet, panting, and I can't stop thinking about it for days." He didn't speak right away. I waited. Braced myself for judgment. But then he said, "Do you see this man in real life?" "Yes." "Does he know what he does to you?" "No," I said quickly. "And he can't. It would ruin everything." I heard the faint rustle of movement on his side. A breath. "Do you want the dreams to stop?" The question surprised me. "I... I don't know. Part of me does. But the rest..." I swallowed. "I think I crave them now. I crave him."

And it made me want to know what was so special about that stuff that made him choose it over me. One night I stole one of his weed, lit it and dragged smoke into my lungs until I coughed my throat raw. I didn’t enjoy it but I understood. It wasn’t just the smoke… it was the high, the calm that followed, the way the craving pulled him back again and again. And now here I am, lying beside my cheating husband, thinking the same thing. He fucks her. Why? What’s her high? The only answer that makes sense is to find out for myself.

Out of nowhere, the backlash struck mercilessly. The flowers Chloe had forced into bloom withered overnight, crumbling into ash. The beauty sustained by my essence began to fracture, too. Her skin grew dry, and her hair fell out in clumps. Night after night, she was plagued by nightmares. She dreamed of a cold, golden moon hanging overhead, silently judging her. "Ethan… I feel awful," she whimpered, trembling uncontrollably in his arms. "It feels like something inside me is rejecting me. I'm so scared."

“That’s because she is lost. She doesn’t know how to take care of him. Doesn’t know how to please him. Doesn’t know what a man like that needs.” There was a pause, then a different kind of laughter. It was lower, conspiratorial. “Have you seen him lately?” one of the women said. “That man ages like fine wine.” “Those shoulders,” another sighed. “And his hands—” “I swear,” someone added, “if I had just one night—” “Oka,y now, you ladies better be careful,” Mary snapped suddenly, her tone sharp. “Keep your fantasies to yourselves.” The chatter stilled.