Craving The Wrong Man Novels & Stories

She questioned in a whisper. Sandra looked up. How could she explain it? How could she explain that her body, mind, and soul was craving the man who had ruined her life? How could she explain that Anthony clouded her thoughts all day? How the hell could she explain that she went to bed wishing his strong body would press down the other side of the bed? She craved him. Just like she craved air. "Answer me," Tanya prompted, pulling her brown hair off her eyes. "Everything. Everything is wrong." She exposed,shoving off the plate in front of her.

“That was a mistake.” Luke chuckled darkly, the sound curling around me like smoke. “Sweetheart, mistakes don’t feel that good.” Heat rushed to my cheeks, but I forced myself to look away, to pick at the bread on my plate even though I couldn’t taste a thing. I needed to stay away from him. I needed to remember who he was: Marcus’s younger brother, dangerous, reckless, the very definition of forbidden. And yet, every time he looked at me, my body betrayed me.

With all of my previous boyfriends… All of the men I’d been with before, who I’d only been with to stop myself from feeling lonely. Knowing that it was just lust… Nothing beyond the intimacy. So why, why did it have to be Adrian I fucking clicked with? He was everything that was wrong for me. A billionaire… A man who worked in a fucked-up, illegal line of business. A man you only fantasized about in books and TV shows… But not in reality. I was just a normal woman…

Tyler POV That howl wasn’t one of ours, and it’s got my blood running cold. I’m on my bike, the engine’s growl a poor match for the sound still echoing in my head—low, haunting, and wrong. It’s not a pack call, not a hunter’s trick. It’s something older, something that doesn’t belong in Westbridge, and it’s calling for her. Vivian Harper. My mate. The realization hits harder than it should, a pull in my chest I can’t ignore, even as I gun the throttle and tear down the empty streets toward her scent.

Close enough to smell whiskey on his breath. “What we did last night…” I pressed back against the wall. “It was a mistake.” His hand slammed against the wall beside my head. “Don’t.” His jaw was clenched so tight I could see the muscle jump. “Don’t you dare call it that.” “What else would I call it?” “It was the realest thing I’ve felt in my entire fucking life.” The words came out harsh. Raw. “So call it wrong, call it destructive, call it whatever you want, but don’t call it a mistake.”

There was blood on them—some mine, most of it belonging to the guy who had made the mistake of bumping into me when I was looking for something to break. I flexed my fingers, wincing at the quick sting. The pain was good. It was grounding. It was the only thing loud enough to drown out the noise in my head. 'Yvonne.' God, I couldn't escape her. I had gone to the club to get her out of my system, to find someone else and wash the scent of vanilla and innocence off my skin. Instead, I had nearly beaten a man unconscious because he wasn't her. Because nobody was her. Because my body had been trained in less than two weeks to respond only to one person, and that realization made me want to put m

“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

Step by step, she drew him in. Eventually, she succeeded in sleeping with him that night. But even in that moment, Eric was not fully there. Jessica was fully in control of the love making Eric feel less of a man. Although, he had never been with a woman before. All these years, he had kept himself. He had made a promise—to come back for the girl who saved him when he was younger. That promise had stayed with him making him to stay away from other women. But that was not enough reason for her to humiliate him like that.

Every part of my being demanded her, and I wasn't sure I could hide the hunger much longer. I wanted to strip her bare right there against the stone wall and remind her exactly how she sounded when she lost control beneath me. I wanted to take her hard, fast, and rough, just the way I had promised in the note—the exact way that had consumed my thoughts for twelve agonizing months. But reality clawed viciously at the edges of my mind. This was wrong. All shades of wrong. Craving this woman was now completely forbidden.

I closed my eyes again, clenching my fists tightly; even just her image alone was enough to make my manhood stand at full attention. “Damn it, this desire is torturing me!” ***