Novels Addiction Novels & Stories

I walk around, eyes blank, pussy dripping, mind filled with one thing— His cock. I want it. I need it. Thick. Deep. Ruthless. Shoved down my pussy again and again until I’m clawing at the sheets and screaming his name. This addiction… he warned me about it. “I’m gonna fuck you until the only thing you think about is my cock.” He said that. And fuck, he wasn’t lying. He’s all I think about. I try to clean.. or even concentrate on my kitchen work. I try to sleep. I try to breathe—

"To warn you I was coming to church next week, I'm sure. Good thing too, so you can warn Vargas. However, I'm sure your little friend already knows. When exactly did you start working with demons, anyway?" This time the older man laughed. "Demons? Please, Rhychard, don't tell me you actually believe in demons?" Rhychard smiled. "You're a preacher. Isn't it your job to believe in them?" Running his hand through his perfect hair, Adrian gave a slight shrug of his thick shoulders. "The demons of today are addictions, more or less, like alcohol, sex, or drugs. They're negative personality traits like envy and greed. Demons are allegorical, Rhychard, the stuff of fantasy writers."

“I wanted to protect myself. To keep the truth hidden. But maybe I just destroyed something real before it could even start.” She leaned back against the couch, covering her face with her hands. “Damian must hate me now. God, he must think I used him…” Her heart twisted painfully. Despite everything, she craved him. She wanted to hear his voice, to explain, to beg for understanding. Instead, she poured another drink. The room blurred around her as exhaustion weighed heavy. Her phone slipped from her fingers, landing on the couch cushion. In her haze, her thumb brushed against the screen, unknowingly dialing a familiar number.

eyes. I couldn't stop thinking about her flawless skin, there was not a single blemish on her body, she looked fucking unreal. And one thing I just couldn't get the fuck out of my mind was her taste. Now, that I know what she tastes like, I'm not sure how I will get rid of this fucking addiction. The most fucked up thing about addiction is when you realize that you are fucking addicted to something, whether it's alcohol or women, you say to yourself "This is my last drink."

Liam read it over my shoulder while his fingers idly played with the cum still leaking from me. My body—kept open for nine days by four Primaries and Liam, trained to the schedule, already aching for the larger number—throbbed in slow, wet, complete anticipation. Seventy-five was no longer a number. It was simply the next time the circle would stretch me until I could not close. And I was already soft for it. The addiction had moved past choice. It had become the shape of my days. To be continued…

And he was addicted to his little girl’s tight pussy. This was only the first story in the book of our sins. There were ninety-nine more ways to damn ourselves still waiting. And I could not wait to fall even deeper.

She’d told him about Lowell’s attempts at recovery, about his inevitable falls from grace. She’d told him about the way it had been before, when she’d worked in other jobs, and had dropped them to rush to Lowell’s side, only to find herself heartbroken and lied to, again and again. And occasionally sacked, to boot. Addison had told him about the good times peppered in with the bad. About how close she’d been to her twin once, how for a long time the only thing they’d had in the world had been each other. “But that wasn’t quite true, because he also had his addictions,” she’d continued. “And he always surrendered to them, eventually. No matter how much he claimed he didn’t want to. And then,

*** ~~~ 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.

Hunting, beating up assholes who owe me money, watching a certain cop and thinking of all the ways I'll make him suffer, taunting Lola every time she comes asking about her daughter, making money, destroying powerful men, killing, and other fun things. "I love reading and watching telenovelas," I tell him even though the last time I watched a telenovela was before my high school graduation. Before Fanuco died, I used to hide in the library and read whatever book I could find just to pass the time. One day, I came across a section of romance novels and became addicted to them. They helped me escape my reality for a while and live in a world where men killed for their wives. Not loan them to t

Brayden raised an eyebrow wondering what she meant. “No? Well one can be addicted to love or the idea of it. I could have let go of Chad long ago. I was addicted to the misery and the fact that if I felt something I hadn’t wasted all that time and at least I gave my heart even if it was broken in the end. I was addicted to be broken hearted. Maybe it’s not as destructive as gambling or drinking or drugs or something but it definitely crippled my life for two years.”