IT'S LIVE!
My name is Abigail Summers, and I’m addicted to sex. Yes, you read right. I’m a woman that craves… no, needs to have a man take my body on a daily basis. If I don’t have sex at least once a day, my body shakes from withdrawals, my stomach cramps with unbearable pain, my sexually hazed mind goes haywire, and I become extremely irritable and a major bitch. This isn’t a lifestyle I’ve chosen for myself. It’s a struggle I deal with every single day.
I don’t do relationships, because what man wants to be stuck knowing his girl may be out having sex with some random guy if he’s not available? You may think this is something that I can control, but I say screw you; you’ve never been in my shoes before.
The cravings may be something I can’t control, but I’ve learned to embrace them. I’ve tried the sexual addiction support groups. I’ve tried curbing my appetites. I’ve been shunned, criticized, ridiculed, and called every nasty name under the sun. Well, I say fuck all you judgmental assholes. I’ll have sex with who I want, when I want, where I want. Embarrassment? That’s a thing of the past. This is my life now, and those that don’t like it can go straight to hell.
But then he came along and screwed everything up. Colt Maverick. For once in my life, I want more, crave more from one guy. A guy that’s sweet and doesn’t match my hard interior. A guy that looks at me like he wants to eat me alive and claim me as his own. A guy that will most definitely not be okay with my addiction. A guy that I want over and over again, not because my body demands it, but because I demand it.
I now have a new addiction. But will he be enough to satisfy my uncontrollabledesires?
My name is Abigail Summers, and I’m addicted to sex. Yes, you read right. I’m a woman that craves… no, needs to have a man take my body on a daily basis. If I don’t have sex at least once a day, my body shakes from withdrawals, my stomach cramps with unbearable pain, my sexually hazed mind goes haywire, and I become extremely irritable and a major bitch. This isn’t a lifestyle I’ve chosen for myself. It’s a struggle I deal with every single day.
I don’t do relationships, because what man wants to be stuck knowing his girl may be out having sex with some random guy if he’s not available? You may think this is something that I can control, but I say screw you; you’ve never been in my shoes before.
The cravings may be something I can’t control, but I’ve learned to embrace them. I’ve tried the sexual addiction support groups. I’ve tried curbing my appetites. I’ve been shunned, criticized, ridiculed, and called every nasty name under the sun. Well, I say fuck all you judgmental assholes. I’ll have sex with who I want, when I want, where I want. Embarrassment? That’s a thing of the past. This is my life now, and those that don’t like it can go straight to hell.
But then he came along and screwed everything up. Colt Maverick. For once in my life, I want more, crave more from one guy. A guy that’s sweet and doesn’t match my hard interior. A guy that looks at me like he wants to eat me alive and claim me as his own. A guy that will most definitely not be okay with my addiction. A guy that I want over and over again, not because my body demands it, but because I demand it.
I now have a new addiction. But will he be enough to satisfy my uncontrollabledesires?
\\ SISTERHOOD REVIEWS //
review by Becky Rendon
I have to say I was nervous before I started this book. It's odd but in a world filled with "slut shaming" and ridiculously one sided views on sex, I was worried I'd be judgy (totally a new word. Webster's will soon be adding it). I don't know whether I've read too many naughty romances or what but, I was empathetic, not judgemental.
To most people, the idea of sex daily is pretty awesome. ( My hand is totally raised on that one.) However, the difference between wanting and needing is very different. To be physically dependent on another for release or suffer horrific withdrawal...Yeah, that makes me and my whining about wanting it more often sound completely juvenile- it is but shh, I'm trying to make a point.
I can't tell if my history and views of self-worth make me more sympathetic but I really enjoyed this book. But not for the reason you might think. Don't get me wrong, hot sex is...well, hot. But Always Wanting is a different kind of book. Sex wasn't for the sake of sex- it was clinical. It was a medicinal act.
Without giving away the entire story, know this...
Sometimes we can overcome things that tear us apart. Sometimes we need help. Other times we just need love and support. But don't let my philosophical ramblings mislead you, not everything has a cure.
Always Wanting is a unique story about a real problem. I think it's well and tastefully written. I really enjoyed the gamut of emotions and feelings it draws out of the reader. It makes people more aware of a complex addiction. I truly enjoyed the story and I hope we learn what happens to the rest of Abby's support group/friends.
reviewed for the Sweet Spot Sisterhood
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Review by Anne Milne
I can honestly say I've never read a book like this before. The subject matter is not one I've come across.
Abigail is a sex addict. Full disclosure here - I'm one of those people who would roll their eyes and scoff when I hear that statement, but I had no real understanding of it. Abigail is literally in pain when she goes without, she gets cramps and the shakes. The only thing I can liken it to, is the pain from addiction withdrawal.
Yes, there is a lot of sex in the book, but for me, that's not what made the book so enjoyable. It was all Abigail and then Colt when she meets him. It was reading her daily struggles, how she wants love, but the concept of being faithful is something she doesn't think she can do. It's how hard Colt loves her and how hard he fights for her, he's on my list of top BBF's.
Don't let the subject matter put you off, because this is a beautiful book.
*Reviewed for Sweet Spot Sisterhood Blog*
- - -
“Which is it, Abby?” I growl, needing to know if I should kick this guy’s ass for hurting her, or kick his ass for daring to touch what is mine.
“Neither.”
She shakes her head, swallows, then looks up at me. Her eyes carry the same confusion I’m feeling.
“I didn’t want him, but he wasn’t hurting or forcing me, either.”
“Abby, what—”
“Take me back to my place,” she blurts out, interrupting me.
For the first time tonight, I notice the sheen of sweat on her forehead and the paleness of her cheeks. She doesn’t look like she feels well. My ire dies, and concern takes over. Her eyes once again drop from mine when she sees my worry. I bend my knees and force her to look at me when I get in her face.
“What’s wrong with you?” I ask.
“Nothing,” she mumbles. “I just want to get out of here.”
I don’t believe her, but when I see the pinch of pain on her face, I decide to force the issue later, once we’re alone.
“My place.” I back away and grab her hand. “It’s closer,” I add when she looks like she wants to object.
Luckily, she nods.
The forgotten guy on the floor has managed to sit up and lean against the wall, still holding his nose and stomach. My eyes narrow at him when he looks up and spots us. The bastard shrinks back further against the wall at my look.
Smart man.
“The back door,” Abby murmurs and pulls on my hand, leading me to a back entrance.
After stepping outside into the dark alleyway, Abby stumbles to a stop several feet from the door. I look to see what’s wrong and find her staring at me. The look in her eyes is hard to distinguish. I see pain, uncertainty, and a hint of what looks like desire. The desire is what confuses me. She’s obviously hurting, so how can she be turned on at the same time?
“Blue,” she says softly, her hand tightening in mine.
“What is it?” I ask, stepping into her space.
What’s up with this woman? Something’s off with her, and I need to find out what it is before she drives me crazy.
The hand she was using to hold mine releases its grip and lands on my lower stomach. Her other hand trails a path up my chest and snakes around my neck. I gaze down at her in bewilderment when she steps closer and plasters her front to mine, her tits flattening against my hard chest.
She grips the waistband of my jeans. “I need you,” she whispers harshly.
My dick jerks, and I want nothing more than to sink my hands into her plump ass, lift her up, and sink inside her, but I don’t. I need to get her home and find out what’s wrong with her first.
“Let’s get you back to my place.”
“No,” she whimpers. She raises her hands and digs her nails into my scalp. “I need you, Blue. Please."
Alex Grayson is originally from the south, but has recently moved to Northern Ohio. Although she misses the warmth of Florida and often times detest the cold of Ohio, she absolutely loves living in the north. Her and her husband bought a house on two acres of land and live there with their daughter, son, one dogs, two cats, eight ducks, and three chickens. She hopes to eventually get a couple of goats to add to their country way of living. Besides her family and home, her next best passion is reading. She is often found with her nose obsessively stuck in a book, much to the frustration of her husband and daughter. On more than one occasion Alex found herself wanting a book to go a certain way, but it didn’t. With these thoughts in mind, she decided to start writing stories according to her own visions. Although this is a new endeavor for her, she hopes that readers find her concepts on romance intriguing and captivating. Alex welcomes and encourages feedback, of any kind.
She can be contacted at alexgraysonauthor@gmail.com.
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