Simply Addictive Novels & Stories

I said firmly, trying to push him away. Jace kissed my exposed neck repeatedly. "I really don't want to force you; I'm your husband. Be quiet." He smiled, pinning me down. "Jace, you beast, let me go!" I exclaimed, struggling to break free. Jace pushed me back, his smile widening. "By the end of this month, I promise you'll fall in love with me." I laughed, "You're joking, right? There's no love in my eyes, and there never will be. I'm not in love with you; you're not the one I love. I'm not even in love with anyone, okay?"

“I love the way your lips part slightly when my thumb brushes over your clit, the way you start to pant for me, your eyes silently begging. Making you come is one of my favorite hobbies, baby." She bit down on her lip as my touch became rougher, more impatient. All the while, I continued to fuck her slowly, the whole world fading away. I didn't give a fuck anymore that there were hundreds of people listening to a seminar just below this balcony. All I could see was my wife. “I think I'm addicted to your pussy.” “I think I'm addicted to you," she whispered. I flicked her clit roughly, pushing her right to the edge. "I'll keep you hooked, baby. I'll keep feeding your addiction, so you'll never

The lights, the attention, the power of the moment. It made me feel like a diva. Like a goddess. When the music started, and my body moved with the rhythm, the entire room faded away. For those few minutes, it felt like I was the only person that existed. And that feeling… It was dangerously addictive. The money wasn’t bad either. Dancing full-time meant the pay was incredible, and for the first time since coming to the city, I didn’t feel like I was constantly struggling to survive. But even with everything going so well, one thought kept creeping back into my mind.

I still can't believe that this man is the one making me moan crazily like a mad woman. His dirty words, his touch, the things he does to me, and the things he makes me do, felt really crazy but enjoyable. My life has become engulfed by him, making me madly obsessed and addicted to him. If I don't see him, I will feel uncomfortable and sad. He has become a vital part of my life, my breath, and everything! He makes me feel so good; he makes me feel like a real woman. He is the only one who can send me to hell in heaven and drag me back.

I felt terrible about what she had to go through growing up, all I wanted to do was protect her and I felt as if I had already failed, because she grew up with this monster. So, I tried another attempt to stay away from her, but then here I was offering to take her to work and helping her get another job. After that first kiss, I knew I couldn't stop. I wanted to stay away, but I couldn't and every day I was with her I wanted to know more about her. I wanted to know all of her favourites, all of her hates. Every time I see the colour orange, which is her favourite colour, all I could do is think about her. How annoying, right? To think of a person every time you see this particular colour. I

I shifted against the mattress, desperate for any kind of relief, because she had me so goddamn hard just from this. I traced her with my tongue, slow circles, listening to the way her breathing caught every time I hit the right spot. Fuck. I could stay down here forever if she let me. Because my woman? She’s addictive. Absolutely fucking intoxicating. Everything she did was driving me insane. The way her breath hitched when I touched just right, the way she pressed herself harder against my face when she needed more, the way her thighs clamped tight around my ears when she thought she couldn’t take another second—every bit of it had me addicted.

"You're probably the only girl in this entire school who thinks that. You know, most girls would be dying to be sitting on a plastic chair next to me." "Yeah, and I'd rather die," I scoffed. "The more you offend me, the more I think you're in denial that you find me attractive. I'm telling you, the first step to addiction is admitting you have a problem." "And what is my problem?" "Your problem is that you find me so handsome that it's addictive, so you feel the need to offend me as a way to convince yourself otherwise." "If that helps you sleep at night," I laughed.

I asked Stacy. "None." I blinked. "Are you saying that this isn't addictive?" Stacy nodded confidently. "Absolutely. It's designed to give you a perfect night without any strings attached. No addiction, no hangovers, just unforgettable fun." Nina added with a wink, "And think about it, Rosalina, if it were addictive, do you really think her boyfriend would let her take it?"

I bobbed my head up and down, taking as much of him as I could to the back of my throat with every slurp. "Mmm. Fuck. Your mouth is made for sucking my cock. You're doing so well." I growled around his skin and he thickened even more against the vibration. For some reason, the praise sent me into a frenzy. He was breaking me, crushing my very foundation to fucking pieces, and I was overwhelmingly addicted. Just the second time and I was addicted to him. Undeniably fucking screwed.

The forbidden closeness, the intimacy, the desire, the addictive tension was unbearable and intoxicating all at once. He stepped back slightly, giving her the tiniest space, but leaving the heat between them almost unbearable. Her knees felt weak. Her skin tingled. Her heart raced. She wanted more more touches, more whispers, more closeness but she also knew the danger, the taboo, the thrill of being caught in this addictive tension. Ada realized in that moment that nothing mundane—the sugar, the milk, the cookies—mattered anymore. The addictive pull of their forbidden intimacy had taken over. She would crave it, remember it, and ache for it, even if they never crossed the line.