Wicked Cravings Novels & Stories

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

her mother reminded her. "Especially if it's because of 'cravings.' That's not allowed. If you really want something, just say you want it, don't keep saying 'craving.' Especially when you want to eat Altezza, you say you're 'craving.' Even though you're just hungry." Emma teased. Adaline pouted at her. "What are you talking about, I'm not like that..." "Really? I don't believe your words." "Auntie, come on..."

“Say whatever you want to say. But don't stop me from asking questions. This is all new to me too.” This part of me… I wasn't entirely happy about it. But Kate was here to pull me out of depression. I would be fine. Kate beamed. “Good. so, the story?” I nodded with feigned interest. “The pregnancy gave the woman the worst cravings… raw meat, and running under moonlight. Sound familiar yet?” I snorted. “Raw meat? I thought the hospital food was just extra disgusting.” Kate raised an eyebrow. “And why would it be like that?”

Wanda watched her strangely, with a half-smile, as if seeing something I didn't. "Funny, when you were younger, you hated walnuts." I remembered and commented with a smile. "I still do," she spoke distractedly between bites. "But I had this overwhelming urge to eat this cake today." "A craving?" Wanda asked, and Lexie's eyes widened. "Cravings are for pregnant women, Wanda." I laughed, and Lexie choked and started coughing. "Hey, easy. Breathe." I helped her recover and placed a glass of juice in front of her. She took a deep breath and drank the juice while I rubbed circles on her back. But Wanda kept looking at her in a way that made me curious.

I hate this body. I was a virgin when I was pushed off a cliff. One hundred percent. I had never even kissed anyone properly. Abby? I’m pretty damn sure she was too. So where the hell are these cravings coming from? This constant ache between my legs when he touches me? This need that feels like it’s clawing me from the inside out? It has to be biology. They say once you taste the forbidden fruit, you can’t stop. But I didn’t even get the full bite…just a tease…and now I’m dying to have the full thing.

I wanted more, sucking and swirling on the digits, drinking in her juices until nothing was left. “I want more.” I breathed heavily, buzzing with elation while the craving turned into an abyss. “Let me have a taste of that gorgeous pussy.” A taste isn’t enough; I wanted a feast.

For a change, is this how Xander feels when he sees men around me, if he does then I feel sorry to put my husband through this woman. And from being scared to horny to jealous to angry, now I am feeling very overwhelmed. Like a small baby with unknown emotions hitting me one by one, I walk toward my husband wrap my arms around his tough muscles, dug my head in his chest, " I want ice cream." I demand. I know the demand was quite out of context but I am pregnant and all of a sudden I am craving them. I have been craving them the most since last week. Despite my mom reprimanding me that too much sugar is not good for me, I just can't control my cravings.

I collapse on the floor, burning hot, dizzy—like my whole body is on edge, unraveling. “The hell, Sunshine? Talk to me. What the hell’s going on?” I look up at him, breathless, my palm against the cold tile. And just when I thought the nausea had passed, something worse hits— a craving. A very specific craving. My mouth goes dry. My tongue feels foreign. I blink, wide-eyed. “I’m craving red oranges,” I whisper. Of all things. Red. Freaking. Oranges.

All suffering originates from craving, from attachment, from desire. —Edgar Allan poe DARIUS Some presences choke you like smoke, but hers,hers lit me on fire. And I hadn’t burned in years. “Again,” I yelled at the men sprinting across the field. Their strides had slowed, a clear contrast of the burst of energy they started with. I pushed them harder than usual, not out of discipline, but because I needed the noise to drown out the chaos in my chest.

Our version of fun almost always leads to some kind of chaotic shit and I’m not in the mood for that. “But I don’t feel like having fun,” I whine. “I just want to satisfy my craving and sleep like the dead.” Yeah, pregnancy cravings kicked in hard and man, are they a bitch. I thought people exaggerated until I started craving ketchup on bread or ice cream in the middle of the night. “But I need to let loose,” she whines back. “I need to have fun and get laid and I want you to be my wingman.” “You want a pregnant wingman?”