The Fantasy (A Desperate Man #1)
by Ella Frank and Brooke Blaine
Fantasies – we all have them.
For some it’s their dream job; others want the wedding, the 2.5 kids, the white picket fence.
My fantasies are a bit more…depraved.
Dark and sinful, they have destroyed relationships and my livelihood, yet I still submit to them like a slave.
For most, it’s a natural expression of love, caring, or lust.
But there are those of us who can’t stop once we’ve had a taste.
Those of us who don’t want to.
And the shame of that never-ending cycle will eat us alive…
My name is Evan James, and I am a sex addict.
****This book will go live on 12-16-14*****
Evan James crooked his finger at the blonde currently shimmying back into her minuscule, tight, black dress. The same one she’d worn last night that had called like a siren’s song to his cock in the middle of the dimly lit club.
She looked over at him with heavy-lidded eyes and held the barely there fabric still around her waist. His eyes zoomed in on the impressive breasts overflowing out of her sheer, black bra. Covered, but not enough.
His mouth watered, and he wanted to drag her back to the bed and take hold of her ripe nipple before pulling the fabric down and out of his way to take her fully into his mouth again.
After having had her so many times in the last few hours, she’d no doubt taste of him on every inch of her soft skin. He liked that. Before, she’d tasted faintly of vanilla musk—a fragrance he wasn’t overly fond of. He’d made quick, dirty work of her though, marking and leaving his scent on her with his lips, his sex, his come, and he figured one last go-round before sending her on her way would suppress his craving for at least a couple of days.
He hoped. His appetite was voracious.
“Can’t get enough, can you?” She leaned down over the edge of the bed and placed her hands there, giving him an ample view of what he wanted. Now.
He narrowed his eyes. “Don’t play with me.”
Blondie tsked and put her knees on the mattress, crawling on all fours toward him. “Oh, baby, I told you you’d never want me to leave once you got inside.”
She was right about that much. If he could live in pussy, he would. It was his weakness, his addiction, the one thing he’d give up anything and everything for. And he nearly had.