Simply Addictive Novels & Stories

Everything. I smiled a little. I was smiling. Genuine smile. Only because of her. Once again the same question. What are you doing to me, Mayra? You are making me addicted to you. Like any other drug, I want to relay on her. She's magnet pulling me towards her every single second and I just want to go closer to her. I want to feel the deepness of her soul which is way more pure then my ugly reality. I am getting addicted to her. After all we only get addicted to those things which ease our pain away.

There were different cliques all paired up in school. Among the boys,we had the most popular Frank Kingston of course,the popular, wealthy, spoilt kid that everyone wanted to be friends with. I still remembered how he humiliated me in fifth grade and said I would end up being poor just like my mother, pompous, spoilt bastard.I became angry anytime I remembered what he did to me in fifth grade. I was angry for many reasons. I was angry because he insulted me and I was angry at myself because I had a huge crush on him. Well, who wouldn't. I was fat and ugly but I had feelings too and I wasn't blind not to notice that Frank Kingston was a tall handsome human with blonde, short hair and brown ey

She teased and he chuckled. "You love me like that. Don't lie. You like the whole of me and I'm obsessed with the whole of you, addicted even." He said, quietly and she could feel the breeze around her too. Her heart skipped a bit at his phone confession. "I'm addicted to you, Bella Mia. Fuçkin addicted, and I hate the thought of being set free from this addiction. Cage me like a bird on your palm with your fingers, I don't mind. I would do anything for you. No matter what."

"You don’t get it because you were born for this. You were born an Alpha. It was easy for you!" The moment the words left my mouth, Damon moved. Before I could react, he grabbed the hem of his shirt and pulled it over his head, tossing it to the ground. My breath hitched. It wasn’t the first time I had seen him shirtless. I wasn’t blind—Damon was built like a god. Every muscle was cut, every inch of him radiating power. The first time I had seen him like this, I had been too busy drooling over the way his abs flexed with every movement to pay attention to anything else. Not that I’d ever admit that.

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.

Once I find her, whoever she is, I will never hesitate to kiss her, hold her, hug her, own her entire body, heart, and soul. For some unexplainable reason, I just wanted that person to be mine. Mine alone. Addiction, madness, whatever I can call how I feel, I don’t care anymore. That person is mine, and once I find her, I will never let her go no matter what happens. There’s no way I could.

What made a guy like Matthew, who used to be ride-or-die loyal, just toss his morals? Only answer I could come up with? Novelty. Ten years deep, and all we talked about were groceries and utility bills. Vivian, though? She was chaos in a pretty dress—bright, loud, unpredictable. And just like that, he was hooked. It turned into a full-blown addiction. No guilt. No hesitation. Just shameless kisses and discount passion. It turned into an addiction, one strong enough to erase any guilt. No guilt. No shame. Just easy kisses and cheap thrills.

“I just did. And it's truly delicious” Somebody find me a fucking hole!

Sometimes I wonder if Aaric is made of some kind of addictive substance scientists haven’t discovered yet. He’s not addictive in the cliché way, like those brooding guys in overdramatic romance novels. He’s addictive like a 2 a.m. espresso—you know it’s bad for your heart, but you drink it anyway, savor the bitter aftertaste on your tongue, and start questioning every life choice that brought you there. Like now. It’s eight in the morning in his apartment. I just woke up, my hair looking like a failed audit, and him—that infuriating man—is already wearing his usual black hoodie and basketball shorts, with that smug little smile on his face.

A new flow. "Do you want to go for a walk?" Claire suddenly asked, but Jacob's attention was on the television. It looks like he's addicted to anime as well. Claire thinks that there was still a childish part of him because she only thought that Jacob couldn't do anything else but get mad every time. Just growl and see her when he knows that there is danger surrounding her. But it's not. He can also smile, laugh and worry. "I'm on leave, I can accompany you," Claire added.