Craving The Wrong Man Novels & Stories

I wanted a taste. I was suddenly hit with an intense thirst that can be quenched only by having a taste. Fuck, my canines were aching so bad. But I also knew exactly what that meant. I've found a new obsession. But this time it's so strong and powerful. That's how it has been over the past years. If I crave blood that isn't that of my mate's, I will continue to crave different people's blood until I meet my mate, whose blood will put an end to these cravings, since her blood will be the only blood I will forever crave.

Guilt tore through me, but it only made me wetter. “Adrian… we have to stop,” I whimpered, even as I pushed back against his cock. “This is too wrong… even for us.” He reached around and rubbed my clit fast, pounding me deeper. “Then why is this pussy creaming so hard around me? You love being my dirty little secret on my wedding day, don’t you?” “Yes… fuck, yes I do,” I moaned, completely losing myself. “I’m such a horrible person… but I need your cock.”

I was never going to be ashamed of showing the world just how deeply, how completely, how absolutely I loved this woman. **** That evening, strangely enough, the dizziness and nausea that had been churning through me all day had vanished. But in their place came something else — a single, extreme craving that took hold of my mind and refused to let go. It would sound absurd, I knew. But the desire for it was so overwhelming that if it went unsatisfied, there was a tightness in my chest that made me want to weep right then and there. Tonight, my request had to be granted. That was final.

My clit is so swollen and my juice are dripping, then his finger move with purpose against my clit, each stroke faster than the last one and unable to hold it any longer a moan escape from my lip but dad is quick to cover my mouth with the blanket to prevent my mom from hearing. "Not too loud honey, we don't want mommy finding out what kind of slut her precious baby is. Do we"?. dad whispers. Dad is right about that, am a slut. I've fantasize alot about him, wondering what lays beneath his thighs. I've thought about what fucking him would be like . I've longed to be under his mercy while he fuck me senseless .

A secret, a dark and deep want, where you want to do the wrong thing just because you are frustrated because of doing the right thing always. It was wrong and I don't know if it's the alcohol making me do it or some where deep down I too want it. I am being pressed hard against the wall, trapped in between the stranger and the wall, his mouth on my breasts sucking, biting and kneading them while his hands squeezing my ass in a not so appropriate manner. Whatever that has been happening is far from being appropriate, a lady would never be in such a situation in the first place.

Now, as he looks at me with that familiar burn, that subtle lingering thirst, I realize I'm dancing on the edge of a dangerous game - he's hungry, always hungry for more. And the most alarming part? A part of me craves to push it further, to know his limit. Is it wrong that I want to fan these flames even higher, that I want to be ravished over and over again by this man? “Well, clearly, I happen to love my men with a little bite." I smile.

“What drama?” He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he pulled out his phone and opened a trending article. The headline read: *Young Married Woman Caught in Scandal with Older Married Man.* Her stomach dropped as he held it out for her to see. She forced a laugh, though it sounded hollow. “Liam’s the one at fault, not me.”

And again it seems after I had woken up and wanted more. Good heavens I still wanted to kill him but I couldn’t I desperately went after him, I couldn’t help it that my body was craving him. Was it the juice, but it shouldn’t have made me drunk or horny like that. Was it the pregnancy hormones, I really didn’t find men interesting these days but it seemed the bastard was the exception. I seemed to crave him like I did food and that was not healthy, he was my boss and a bastard that I couldn’t stand.

“This guy I was seeing? Moaned another woman’s name mid-thrust, then tried to spin it into an open relationship. We’re fuck mates now, apparently. Not exactly a fairy tale.” Brianna threw her head back laughing, the sound cutting through the music. “Fuck mates? My kind of vibe though. I had a similar mess last month—the guy was great with his hands but couldn’t remember my name the next morning. Men really need a user manual sometimes. But you? You seem like you’d remember every detail. That mouth of yours looks promising.” The flirting built naturally, her hand resting lightly on my arm as she leaned closer. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you? The distraction. I can see it in your eyes. No f

But the shine wore off fast—ripped away the day I came home and found her riding Finn on my bed. Whatever I’d felt before that moment died clean. So no, I don’t understand the appeal. I don’t understand the idea of chasing someone who’s made it very clear they don’t want you the same way you want them. I crave something else entirely. I want someone who comes unhinged at the thought of me. Someone who spirals when I touch them. Who trembles under my stare. I want madness. Possession. I want devotion. And lately, when I think of those things, it’s her face I see.