Perfectly Addicted Novels & Stories

In my mind, I'd fantasize about some lecherous man charging at me, shoving me to the ground, and roughly forcing my legs apart. Then came the weekend. My roommates invited me to a bar. I'd heard there were plenty of good-looking guys there. It was like waving a red flag at my hungry inner demon. Soon we arrived at the bar. A few drinks went down smoothly. And I couldn't resist the urge to expose myself again, right there in the crowd. That craving was more addictive than poison. It felt like ants crawling under my skin. I couldn't sit still. But my roommates were right next to me. There was no way I could do that kind of thing in front of them.

“This pussy… Jesus.” I held on to him tighter, feeling my legs open as he hit the perfect spot. Every time we hooked up, I went home later and later. We seemed to crave each other more, not less. Our passion turned into something combustible. We couldn’t stop. Not for anything, not for anyone. We were both addicted. “Don’t stop…don’t ever stop.”

Sophia’s shadow lingered, but our extreme, joyful addiction remained the core of our perfect, happy relationship, stronger, filthier, and more addicted with every chapter. The drive back from the cabin was thick with lingering lust. My body was still sore and leaking traces of Marcus’s cum from the final morning anal session on the cabin deck, my holes stretched and sensitive with every bump in the road. The isolation had been pure primal heaven, screaming orgasms echoing through the woods, his fists and cock destroying me without limits, but the city and Sophia’s shadow waited. Marcus’s phone had buzzed with a missed call from her during the drive. “She left a voicemail about needing to ‘fi

She added to the steam "Her dirty talk hit me hard and she fucked me harder at the realisation, the realistic balls slapping against my ass with every thrust. The wet, messy sounds of my pussy taking her cock filled the room, it was disgusting. She leaned down, sucking hard on my nipple while pounding me, the strap-on grinding against her own clit with every movement. “You’re getting addicted, aren’t you?” she panted, slamming into me. “Sneaking around behind Dad's back just so you can get ruined by your stepmom’s cock. Such a dirty, perverted little secret slut.” “Yes ! God, yes I’m addicted to you mommy” I gasped, the words tumbling out. “I think about your pussy and this cock all day. I c

That is something only my sweet little whore would do for me, and I am getting more addicted than I could ever imagine. This should have been a one-time thing. Fucking her mouth and touching her pussy should have all ended after the heat. But how can I let go of the memories of her lips wrapped around my cock? How can I let go of her pussy dripping all over my hand? How can I let go of the image of her pussy clamping against my fingers? Of her cumming hard on my fingers and how I had shamelessly licked it off like it was my way to salvation. Oh! This girl was turning me into everything I swore I would never be. Desiring, needy, addicted, and I hated how much every inch of this was working on

CHAPTER ONE Alex's Pov "Tell me what you're thinking right now." I stared at the message glowing on my phone screen, my thumb hovering over the keyboard. It was past midnight, and I should have been asleep, but these conversations had become my addiction. Three months of talking to someone who didn't know my last name, didn't know where I worked, didn't know anything except the parts of myself I chose to reveal. "I'm thinking about how strange it is that you know me better than people I see every day," I typed back.

"Of course I do. We're going to be kickass parents" I lift her off the bed and wrap her legs around my waist then spin her around. So goddamn happy that she wants to keep the baby. I'm going to be a father. Finally, I'll have my own family with the love of my life. What more can I ask for? And to think it all started with an addiction to this innocent woman... ******************************************

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.

And right now, with Seraphina beneath me and daylight streaming through the windows and Elena somewhere in this house, probably awake, probably wondering where I am— I don’t care. That’s the truth of it. The ugly, inexcusable truth. I don’t care. I push her legs apart and she opens for me immediately, already wet, already ready, and when I slide inside her, the rest of the world disappears. This is what addiction feels like, I think dimly as I start to move. Not the high itself, but the way it makes you stop caring about everything you’re destroying to get it. The way it narrows your entire existence down to this one need, this one sensation, until nothing else matters.

My fingers kept moving, slow circles over the swollen head. “You love me too much to watch me stop breathing. More than you ever loved her. Everything you couldn’t give her—every dark thing, every brutal thing—you’ve already poured into me. You’ve fucked me raw in ways you never dared with her. You’ve bruised me, marked me, made me cry and beg and come so hard I black out. And you’d give me more. Because I can take it. I crave it. I come harder when you hurt me just right. I beg louder when you remind me I’m nothing without your cock splitting me open. I’m addicted to the way you own me, break me, rebuild me around your dick.”