Sex Addict

by Brooke Blaine

  Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Also by Ella Frank

  Also by Brooke Blaine

  Part One

  Epigraph

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  PART TWO

  Epigraph

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  PART THREE

  Epigraph

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Epilogue

  Special Thanks

  About the Authors

  BROOKE BLAINE

  ELLA FRANK

  Copyright © 2016 by Ella Frank & Brooke Blaine

  www.ellafrank.com

  www.brookeblaine.com

  Edited by Arran McNicol

  Cover Designed by Jay Aheer of Simply Defined Art

  No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Also by Ella Frank

  The Exquisite Series

  Exquisite

  Entice

  Edible

  The Temptation Series

  Try

  Take

  Trust

  Sunset Cove Series

  Finley

  Masters Among Monsters Series

  Alasdair

  Isadora

  Standalones

  Blind Obsession

  Veiled Innocence

  Also by Brooke Blaine

  L.A. Liaison Series

  Licked

  Hooker

  Romantic Suspense

  Flash Point

  “The strongest drug that exists for a human is another human being.”

  - Anonymous

  CHAPTER ONE

  “COME HERE.”

  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.

  Luckily, he still had his looks and wasn’t forced to pay her—he doubted the hundred bucks in his wallet would cover the cost of even a blow job nowadays. At least, not from someone of her caliber.

  Not that she’d have ever guessed—he played his part well.

  He leaned against the headboard, letting her come to him. A white sheet lay haphazardly over his hips, and as she straddled one of his thighs, she bent down and pulled it away with her teeth.

  His cock rose as she freed him, her long hair lightly breezing against him, making him hard with scarcely a touch. Oh yeah. He had her.

  Threading his fingers through her blond strands, he flexed his hand over the back of her head. Her mouth hovered over his length like a tease, and when his grip tightened, she gave an indecent smile and kissed the tip of his cock.

  Pulling away, she looked up at him again, and he grunted, pushing his hips up toward her mouth. He needed those luscious fucking lips sliding all the way down, taking every inch he had.

  She got the hint.

  Wasting no more time, she grabbed the base of his shaft with one hand and his balls with the other before inhaling him back into her mouth, her tongue flush against the underside, sucking vigorously.

  Goddamn but he lived for this. The tight, wet fit of a mouth around his dick followed by the clenching of a sweet, soaked pussy. There wasn’t any fucking thing better in this world, and he’d never get enough. He wanted to live there. Die there.

  “Thatta girl,” he urged as she took him deeper. “So fucking sexy with that dress down around your hips…” He stopped as white heat flooded through him, and he had to push her shoulders back to keep from coming. He’d save that for her delicious cunt. “But I need you to take it off. Now.”

  The tone of his voice had her unsnapping her bra and peeling her dress back off in record time.

  “You want me here?” she taunted, straddling his hips without waiting for a reply, her naked lips glistening with need. “You like me on top, riding you...fucking you?”

  Wrapping both small hands around him, she squeezed, slowly rotating them up his length. He watched her, his smile half-cocked, his insides on fucking fire as he tried to hold himself off, letting her tease him, stroke him.

  She moved her hands to the front of his shaft and leaned back, pushing him against her. Rubbing her slick heat up and down his cock, coating him with her juices, pressing him hard against her clit as she pleasured herself with him.

  God, she was a fucking sight. She was sending him over the edge. And he couldn’t take it anymore.

  His back arched, and a roar ripped out of him. He grabbed her hips a little too roughly, lifting her up and pulling her down before filling her completely.

  She gasped at the harsh invasion and clamped down around him, causing him to curse and force himself to take his fervor down a notch. The little temptress wasn’t making it easy for him to take it slow. He wanted to fuck her, own her, devour her, if only for the next few minutes.

  He was a man crazed.

  Leaning up, he grabbed her waist, staying inside her, and moved her onto her back. Her hands g
ripped his biceps, and he reached up to take hold of her wrists before pinning them above her head on the bed. With a daring look in her dark eyes, she tried to move, but he pushed her down harder and thrust deeper. She closed her eyes and gave a throaty moan.

  He pumped himself inside her, and when her head rolled to the side, he bent down and licked a path along her neck. He’d been right—she tasted faintly sweet and salty now, like his sex.

  His teeth grazed the soft spot beneath her ear before biting the skin there. She gasped again in surprise and struggled against his hold, but he kept her in place, using her body to ease the ache.

  She watched him through half-closed lids, her sex clenching violently, urging him on, her sighs and moans becoming louder, her breathing quicker.

  Fuck, she was the tightest thing he’d been inside in months—and he’d been inside more than he could count. She was on the brink, and it wouldn’t take much more to push her over the edge.

  He leaned up, releasing her wrists, and put each long leg over his shoulders.

  Holy shit. That angle squeezed him like a vise and made his breath catch.

  Blondie was panting now, and he made small, quick thrusts over and over to the spot he knew would make her fucking explode. With a cry, she came, and the throbbing of her climax around his cock was all he needed to fly the fuck apart.

  “Goddamn,” he growled, holding on to her thighs with a punishing grip as the orgasm ripped through him.

  The restlessness he’d grown accustomed to holding inside left his body as he emptied himself inside her. The peace wouldn’t last long. But he’d revel in it for a few moments, remembering a time when this would’ve been enough.

  Evan opened his eyes to look into the sated, brown ones he’d felt watching him come undone. Something in her gaze unnerved him, but as quickly as he’d thought it, it passed, and a confident expression took over.

  “Hell of a send-off,” she said with a smirk.

  “You were asking for it in this little black thing you call a dress,” he said, fingering the material bunched around her waist.

  A small smile played on his lips as he eased himself out of her and lowered her legs to the bed. Her hands went to her hips, rubbing the feeling back into them, and any questions that lingered vanished. She made small, pressured circles to the tops of her thighs, and as he sat there watching, still between her legs, she casually brushed her knuckles against her swollen clit.

  He knew that, if she continued, he’d have to have her again.

  As if she could read his mind, her movements stopped. Then she pushed up to her elbows, swung one leg up over his head to the other side, and gracefully stood. Her fingers deftly twisted her waist-length hair into a knot, revealing faint marks all over the ivory expanse of her back. His markings.

  The visual mitigated part of the craving deep inside—the one that insisted he reach out and take. And take. And take. Never satisfied. Thirst never quenched.

  She squeezed back into that tiny dress, running her hands across her breasts before tucking them inside, not even bothering with her bra. She held that out to him on the tip of her finger.

  “A memento, Mr. Tall, Dark, and Handsome,” she said.

  He grabbed it before his brain could tell himself to fuck off. This was a woman who knew the power she could wield over a man. Over him.

  Not that he’d ever let her. Or anyone.

  He walked her to the door of his condo, and instead of opening it, he couldn’t stop himself from pressing her against it, gripping her firm ass in his hands, and tasting her one last time.

  That wasn’t like him. To linger, to hold on to a fucking keepsake.

  He’d burn that bra later—after he’d covered every inch of it with his come.

  CHAPTER TWO

  HE LOOKED LIKE hell.

  So bad, in fact, that he’d been avoiding mirrors, not wanting to see the progressive downslide his emotional issues were physically taking out on him. But this morning, he’d accidentally caught a glimpse, and it had scared the shit out of him.

  He knew he was an attractive guy, and the last time he’d looked while shaving had confirmed he hadn’t lost that part of himself yet. Everything else in his life, yes—but not that.

  However, now...the haggard expression, the bags under his eyes, the longer-than-usual strands of chestnut hair sticking up wildly, the unkempt stubble around his mouth... Those things hadn’t been there days earlier.

  Blondie never would’ve looked at him twice if they had.

  That woman...

  It’d been two days, four hours, and twenty-six minutes since she’d left.

  He remembered that not because she’d been the most delicious pussy he’d devoured in recent memory. No, he remembered because that’s how long he’d gone without finding another warm hole for his cock. At least that’s what he’d told himself.

  “Christ.”

  He rubbed the hair covering his jaw and opened the medicine cabinet, leaving it hanging wide so he wouldn’t have to look at his sad reflection again. There should’ve been a spare bottle of lube in there. Last night, he’d finished off the full-size lotion he kept in his bedside drawer, and there was no way his cock could handle another dry rub with it as tender as it was from the hours of abuse he’d inflicted upon it.

  But…fuck. It wasn’t there. Did I use it? He couldn’t remember, and the ache and longing below his waist were starting to rise. If he showered, he’d lose her scent—the one that had sent him on a seemingly never-ending, days-long climax.

  Somewhere in the back of his mind, he could hear the voice of reason telling him to stop, that he’d had his fill. His body said otherwise.

  The sound of his cell phone ringing brought him out of his thoughts. He hadn’t bothered with it in days and was surprised it wasn’t dead by now.

  Venturing to the hallway, he found it in the last place he’d left it—in the back pocket of the pants he’d been wearing the night Blondie had broken the zipper in her haste to get them off him. Her hands had been too eager, her greedy fucking mouth not waiting to get to the bedroom before consuming him.

  Stop. Stop thinking about her unless you have your fucking cock in your hand.

  He hit the answer button on his cell without bothering to glance at the screen.

  “Am I speaking with Mr. Evan James?” a brisk, female voice asked.

  He looked then at the caller ID, not recognizing the number. Not yet destitute, he figured it wasn’t a bill collector.

  “It is,” his voice grated, hoarse and unused. He cleared it and answered again. “This is Evan James.”

  “Mr. James, I’m calling on behalf of Kelman Corporations. They received your inquiry and portfolio and would like to schedule a meeting with you for tomorrow at nine.”

  He thought back to the dozens of résumés he’d sent off months ago, back when he had given a damn. The name of that company rang a bell. He thought he remembered that they handled financial planning for several Fortune 500 companies, but he couldn’t be sure without looking back at his notes. He’d been so focused on the other issues at hand that acquiring a job had slipped to the bottom of the to-do-list.

  Evan kicked the pants into a pile in the corner of the hallway and grimaced. He knew he’d be a fool for even considering not taking them up on a potential offer, but lately, he’d been accused of being much worse.

  When he didn’t immediately answer, she prompted, “This is the Evan James that submitted—”

  “Yes, yes,” he interrupted, rubbing his forehead. “Nine tomorrow would be great.”

  “Good. You’ll be meeting with Mr. Kelman and Ms. Spencer. A pass will be left for you at the front desk security check-in, and they will direct you to our office on the twelfth floor. We look forward to seeing you tomorrow morning.”

  “Thank y—”

  She hung up before he could acknowledge that he’d be there.

  Ah, shit.

  He tossed the phone on the couch and began pacing, his fist
s in his hair. This was what he wanted. Wasn’t it? What he’d been trying to get back on track for the past eight months.

  Grateful. That’s how he should have been feeling in that moment. Thankful beyond belief that anyone would want him to join them even with knowing the messes he’d made, the lives he’d ruined. He should be on his knees doing Hail Marys or whatever the fuck religious people did.

  But his first thought hadn’t been one of thankfulness. No, the first thing that’d run through his mind was how many times he’d be able to get himself off before he had to wash her away. Before he’d have to find someone else.

  If he was honest with himself, he was fucking exhausted. But he knew that wasn’t enough to stop from repeating the cycle.

  * * *

  HE WAITED UNTIL after dark, until the last possible moment, before he showered. Slowly and with light strokes at first. Then more vigorously, rubbing the skin raw where he scrubbed it. He needed no trace of the last woman to touch his body as he sought to mark himself with the next.

  Once he was satisfied, he shut the water off and wrapped a towel around his waist. It didn't take long for the naked feeling of isolation to envelop him like a cold fist around his heart. Then he threw on a pair of dark jeans and a black shirt, ready to get to the action, and made his way out the door just after ten thirty.

  The night was warm, a faint taste of the ocean in the air, as he walked the three blocks to catch the L train heading toward the East Village. With an abundance of dive bars, it was his go-to neighborhood when he was looking for a quick fix.

  He chose the last subway car—like he always did when he was on the prowl—and as he stood there holding on to the overhead bar, he caught the reflection of the man looking back at him through the grime-covered windows.