Free Addicted to You by Bethany Kane

Katie’s thighs. The level of tension in her body was such that she’d vibrate like a tautly drawn string beneath his strumming tongue. She’d taste like honey and musk, like sex distilled. He’d coat his tongue and throat in her essence and let the wild riot take over his brain and body.
    When he held her down and worked his cock into that tight little pussy, it’d be like diving into a vast orgy of need. Katie wasn’t the type of woman you could take in half measure. One taste of her, and he’d have to consume her completely. Frequently. He’d make her ache, but he’d take her again and again anyway, his cock demanding he find surcease in her body . . . anywhere.
    Anyhow.
    His rapidly moving arm slowed. He opened his heavy eyelids and water droplets shot into his eyes. The realization that he’d been picturing sticking his cock into Katie’s ass— Katie Hughes —made him let go of his erection as though it’d burned him. The heavy head dropped, the shaft extending at a downward angle. His balls pinched, needing to be emptied.
    Requiring it.
    “Bloody hell,” he muttered under his breath, cowed by shame. His affinity for sexual fantasy hadn’t been this vivid since adolescence.
    He viciously twisted the shower knob.
    The cold water succeeded in diminishing his erection minimally, but damn it all if it wasn’t a monster again by the time he pulled on a pair of clean boxer briefs. He avoided looking at his reflection in the mirror. Katie had cleaned it, just like she’d cleaned everything else in this bloody house.
    Rill had much preferred not being able to see himself so clearly.
    Fuck , he thought as an almost untenable wave of frustration and self-hatred rose up in him. It stunned him to know that his sexual needs hadn’t really been snuffed out by grief and whiskey. Apparently the only thing that had spared him was his selfenforced isolation from females. Sure, he’d occasionally run into an attractive woman in the past year and a half. He’d more than half considered taking up Sherona Legion on the subtle invitations she made with her soft, inviting touches and promising glances.
    But Rill had always kept a distance from Sherona, even though he was probably closer to her than any other citizen in Vulture’s Canyon. She was undemanding, warm . . . a good listener. Not that Rill ever said much. He’d spent his share of nights down at the diner, the only other occupant besides Sherona. She didn’t seem to mind his morose silence, just kept the hot coffee coming.
    Now, in hindsight, he wondered if he’d been a fool not to let off some steam with Sherona. If he had, he might not have become so ludicrously horny at the sight of an old friend.
    It was frickin’ pitiful.
    His hand had sufficed for his sexual urges for the last year and a half. No . . . Longer than that, he reminded himself grimly. Depression and a raging libido didn’t tend to go hand in hand.
    He’d bought two bottles of Jameson earlier. They were still in the trunk of his car, sorely tempting his pornographic brain and temper-tantrum-throwing cock. For a split second, the image of filling up the bathroom sink with whiskey and sticking his prick straight into it flashed in Rill’s mind’s eye.
    He laughed under his breath. Made sense, in a bizarre way. He wanted his damn cock to shut up and give him some rest. But there was no way around it.
    He’d have to knock out the monster by swallowing the poison.
    Jaysus, he thought grimly as he stalked out of the bathroom. And Katie had crowed that she’d come there to save him.
     
     
    Katie woke up in the middle of the night, freezing. She rose from bed and turned off the air-conditioning unit. The temperature must have dropped during the night. Technically, it was autumn, but summer just didn’t want to abdicate her throne this year. Maybe autumn had finally ousted her tonight, Katie thought sleepily as she felt around at the end of her bed for her robe. Her throat was dry. The water