I Keep Craving Craving You Novels & Stories

Is there like—'' ''I'm craving Chinese.''

“Mom, I'm craving some bobba tea. Can I go get one in the cafe downtown?” Her gaze drawled from the telenovela series she was watching to me. “You can't, Ivana. Have you forgotten what happened when you left the mall for the same bobba tea, last time?” I exhaled. It wasn't going to be easy. “I know, but Felix and Mark can come with me for protection. Can't I just get what I'm craving for?” I frowned, my patience already running low. “I can't go to college. Yes, I accepted that. I can't go for my therapy sessions, also, I accepted that. But now that I'm craving for bobba tea, still, I can't get it?”

Every moan, every shudder only makes me crave her more, like she’s a drug I’ll never shake, a hunger that grows sharper with every taste. Her pleasure peaks, a shuddering moan escaping her as her body clenches around me, dragging me over the edge with her. The intensity should leave me sated, but it doesn’t. My hand tightens on her hip, my fingers digging into her skin as a gnawing hunger twists in my gut. Something’s wrong, seriously wrong. Why am I still burning for her, still craving her like I haven’t just had her? She’s barely conscious, her body limp against the sheets, her breaths shallow and uneven, yet the need to keep going claws at me, relentless.

Rubbing his hands together, he leans forward with a heavy sigh and rests his elbows on his knees. "I am doing as fine as I can. There's just... Have you ever just craved someone? Craved their company, or to hear the sound of their laughter? To feel the warmth that is shared when your bodies are entangled?" I still, knowing full well he is referring to Cassandra as being the one he craves. And that same pain hits my side again because I crave the same person. "I love her, Crayvin, and I want her back. I want Cassandra back."

I wanted more, sucking and swirling on the digits, drinking in her juices until nothing was left. “I want more.” I breathed heavily, buzzing with elation while the craving turned into an abyss. “Let me have a taste of that gorgeous pussy.” A taste isn’t enough; I wanted a feast.

“Like what? Didn’t Reagan get you a bunch of beef jerky and all sorts of dried meat this morning?” “Yeah, but that’s not the only cravings I have.” “What other cravings do you freaking want?” “Oh, you know, like pleasures and desires. Orgasms and climaxes, if you want to know specifics… things that I can’t get from any of you alpha heirs. Well, unless, you want to finally have a taste of me. It’s about time anyway, right? I promise you a good time.” A glint of mischievous smile appears on her lips and eyes.

"I've been craving you for the longest time." "Hmmm.... If that's what you wish for, I'm ready to serve."

“You’ll crave me every night. I’ll come whenever you need me… but the more pleasure I give you, the stronger I get. Soon I might bring other hungers too.”

The glow from the torches cast erotic shadows, my vision is hazy, and my mind is clouded with lust. I gyrate my hips seeking out friction to subdue the craving between my legs. I need to be filled; I need my thirst quenched. “Crimson,” I call out for my mate, craving his touch. Needing only his touch. For a brief second the haze clears from my mind, and it dawns on me what is happening. I am the feast. I am the claiming. It’s not what I want but I’m powerless to stop it. The wine, the music, my heat…