Novel & Cerita Perfection Addiction Movie

“Of course, sir.” He doesn't even look up from his desk as I leave, I swear sometimes it feels like he lives to test my patience, but he pays me, too well to quit. So, I made the coffee just the way he liked it, black and bittter, just like his personality and drop it on his desk before heading to the conference room. The meeting drags on longer than it should have. Two hours turn into an three till two hours meeting become four . Mr. Addams has this obsession with perfection that borders on torture, like every detail has to be flawless from every figure, every projection, every comma in every report picking apart proposals with the precision of a surgeon and the emotion of a robot.

He felt Amelia get into bed beside him. He admitted to himself that he hadn't yet recovered from his former wife. He craved her even more now that she had come back. He wished she stayed with him. He couldn't deny to himself that he was getting addicted to his former wife. Ronald couldn't imagine what happened to them in the office and for the whole light. It felt like it was a dream come true and he needed to do something about it. She remembered what she said to him yesterday night, she could not be just a mistress. He needed to make her his wife but not the kind of wife she used to be to him. He should have presented her as his wife and said that he married her already three years back.

It is not the happy ever after as portrayed in the movies but a facade. Love is a weapon of weakness that is only of benefit to those who seek to exploit it. “Miss Waters.” Carlos called. No response. “Miss Waters.” No response. “Miss Ivy Waters!” He called with a loud voice, pulling her out of her thoughts. Ivy jerked at the sound of his voice. She didn't realize she had been so lost in her own little world. Whatever the case, she didn't feel guilty or embarrassed for it. Still, she had to play the part.

She seemed weak as he peered at her closely. "She is so beautiful and sweet too," Hamilton said inwardly, as he felt like she was even more sweet than Felicia. He had finally seen a girl more sweet and beautiful than Felicia so he would not have any use for her, he thought but then, peering at Monalisa, he could feel her unwillingness to live. He wondered why she didn't want to live but quickly brushed the thought away as he felt it was not his concern. "Forget your wish for death because you are mine now, Monalisa and whatever your reason may be, you are not going to die just yet, not until I am done using you to my satisfaction," Hamilton said inwardly, turning his gaze away from her and

she replied, “I can’t believe we are breaking history, a maid is marrying her boss.” “I don’t think anybody would believe that for you look nothing like a maid.” “But I was a maid.” “Was, but not anymore, you are my imperfect perfection,” he replied that she could only smile and wondered how can they be a perfection that is imperfect? Not getting her answer, she smiled more pronounced and listened to the priest, today is a very big day to her, a day she had looked forward to all her life with the man beside her. And she knew that just as his words ‘imperfect perfection’ confused her, so would their love confuse anyone who tries to ruin them.

Perfectly satisfying. But fast on the heels of that thought was another. Her smile dropped away. She sat up, snapping the book closed. She wasn't supposed to enjoy being with him. In reality, he wasn't supposed to be perfect. He was supposed to be a disappointment. That was the plan, wasn't it?

Matt Le Blanch has a confession—he’s a sex addict. Attending his first recovery meeting, he shares his insatiable hunger, but it’s Mila, a curvaceous Russian beauty, who ignites his deepest cravings. Four days without pleasure? He can’t imagine it. That night, lost in fantasies of Mila’s uninhibited body, Matt surrenders to his urges, plunging into a world of raw, unfiltered ecstasy. With every touch, every moan, he spirals deeper into his addiction—until desire and reality blur.

And, yes, it's gonna be my favorite. Then, I looked at her in the eyes in which they seem like smiling at me, and I would love to stare at her green orbs all my life. She is so beautiful. Is it weird to call her my perfect addiction? She may be imperfect in so many ways, but for me, she is simply perfect. The feelings that I have for her are perfect. I think we are made for each other. Mates. And, of course, I would love her to treat me as her own.

My husband craved perfection, he was a perfectionist in every way, from head to toe, in every thing he does. Then Why?! Why not choose me?! I whimpered as these painful questions kept swirling in my head like a rising cyclone, thrashing against my nerves with their painful force. I couldn't take it anymore so I covered my ears and closed my eyes, only praying for death. Death, as sad as I had perceived it to be all my life, now it's my only relief. My saviour. "Madamoiselle" The waiter's soft voice woke me up from my frenzy and I looked at him. He smiled at me nervously.

As pleasure consumes me, I go still, my legs unable to move, even as the pulsing inside urges me to take him deeper somehow and never release him. He growls into my chest. “You are my addiction, Ariella. How are you so fucking perfect?”