His Darkest Craving Novels & Stories

I just smiled, slow and lazy, tasting copper where my lip split. Then I walked past her like she was furniture, picked up the half full glass of red I’d already doctored on the nightstand, three crushed capsules of the strongest aphrodisiac I could buy on the dark web, colorless, tasteless, hits in under eight minutes and turns you into a creature that needs to fuck more than it needs oxygen. You'll crave sex more than anything else. I turned back to her, glass in hand. She was breathing fire, fists clenched, ready to swing again.

*** ~~~ CHANCÉ~~~ *** Since the last time River and I had sex, I’ve been thinking about that moment nonstop. I feel like a drug addict in withdrawal — conflicted, restless, and completely obsessed. Am I an addict? I don’t know, but if you can’t stay away from something and you obsess over it every second, then yeah… I guess I am. My drug is sex with River Dawson. I can’t stop craving it, so instead, I’m avoiding him.

They were still coated in the thick, creamy proof of my betrayal—the slick, pearly mess of a girl who had just let two dangerous men take her apart in her mind. This wasn’t just a crush. It was a sickness. A dark, sticky craving that made me feel like I was rotting from the inside out with want. I watched the cream-colored evidence of my climax swirl down the drain, rinsed my hands thoroughly, and walked back into my bedroom. The room was empty, but the air felt thick, like someone had just been breathing it. I pulled on a thin cotton nightgown, my skin still buzzing and raw as I walked into the kitchen.

I do usually take time to get to know a man before I invite him up to my room. "You like to be chased?" His voice, already deep, had dropped almost an octave, until it was barely more than a subsonic rumble. "I think that could be...arranged." Something about his tone piqued my curiosity. I'd chosen the Dark Tower casino and hotel for its dark, gothic atmosphere. It's a great place for a vampire to blend in and look positively normal. Though the clientele ran from emo rockers to hardcore S&M enthusiasts, I'd never heard that it offered any kind of sex club on the premises. I hoped his offer was a personal one, and he wasn't just drumming up business for his boss.

Instead, he scooped me in his arms and brought me to my bed. There was a mix of excitement and fear which instantly crept into my whole being. Excited because my curiosity will be sufficed but fearful because I know this might break me or make me. Again, Pierre Monteblanco is a mystery. A dangerous one. And what a fool am I to throw myself into his dark fate. However, the need to feel this dark persona is heavier than all the things bothering me in my mind. I just need to satisfy this curiosity or else I'll be damned.

Waking up to the sound of his voice is still, after everything, the most beautiful and most maddening thing in my life. All I have ever wanted all I will ever want is him. By my side. Within my reach. Mine. I know I'm not the husband he might have dreamed of, back before he knew what it meant to belong to someone like me. Hell, I don't even deserve him. But that's the nature of desire, isn't it? We crave the things we have no right to. And he — he is the most dangerous sin I've ever known, one I'll gladly drown in for the rest of my life, one that consumes me and reshapes me into something I'm not sure even I recognize anymore.

He had been waiting a lifetime for his mate, and the longer he waited, the more he withered inside. His wolf, Zodiak, had gone silent years ago, retreating deep within him, refusing to speak. Cole could still feel him there, a dormant presence buried beneath layers of resignation. But neither of them had the strength or hope to search anymore. Sure, he had dated women, but nothing ever panned out, nothing ever felt right. The longer Cole stood, leaning over the railing, the stronger the scent became, the wind brought to him a rich, sweet, almost sinful, like vanilla warmed by honey smell. It invaded his senses, igniting something primal in him.

Arya please stop crying or am gonna cry too," Christie said using her thumb to clean her tears. How about Ronald, have you told him about it? Josh asked. No, but I think he's feeling more than I do, it's almost impossible for him to hide it even when our parents are present, guys this is really bad because it isn't just a normal attraction, this is deeply erotic, dark feelings, sexual cravings, I have wet dreams about him all the time, i get wet at little contact with him, I always imagine how it feels to have him inside of me and..... Ewww, stop, just stop already Arya, it's making me wanna puke right now no offence though, but this is really bad, it's incest, I can't believe this is happen

Shadows and wind wrapped around us, silent witnesses to our heat, our pleasure, our unrestrained craving. “You… this… was insane,” I gasped, pressing against him, still trembling, breathless, sticky. He smirked, brushing a damp strand of hair from my face. “Insane… addictive… and just the beginning. Next time, I’ll take you even further.” I pressed back, trembling, sticky, breathless, utterly undone. Desire pulsed through me, insatiable, unrelenting. I wanted more. I needed more. And even as the city lights stretched endlessly below, I knew some pleasures could never be contained. Some encounters would haunt, consume, and leave you trembling, desperate, craving the next forbidden moment. And

Evelyn Hart saved Bryan Kingsley’s life once. He repaid her by ruining hers. As children, she pulled him from a river, but her sister Lily stole the credit before he woke. Bryan grew up loving Lily, while Evelyn became the quiet girl no one remembered. Years later, when Lily was left paralyzed after a mysterious accident, Evelyn took the blame. Bryan believed the worst of her, forced her into a loveless marriage and spent three years making her pay for a lie she never told. Then Lily came back, walking and looking beautiful and ready to reclaim him. Bryan divorced Evelyn without hesitation, and Evelyn disappeared with a broken heart, a secret from his dead mother and a child he did not