Addicted Quotes

“Did you just have an orgasm, after hearing me talk about giving you an orgasm?”

All I can do is sob helplessly in answer.

“I think you did. I think you just came ’cause I’m fingering your sweet pussy and talking dirty to you – you know why?”

I don’t, I don’t.

“Because you’re so nuts for this. Aren’t you, huh? You’re so primed. I can feel that hot little pussy clenching around me every time I move a muscle or say a word – ohhhh, yeah. Yeah, arch your back so I can look at you going nice and tight around my fingers. Yeah. Yeah. You gonna do that around my cock?”
― Charlotte Stein, Addicted

“I’m not some sex addict trying to sort myself out. I don’t get a high from fucking everything that walks. I get a high from wanting someone as much as I want you. From actually thinking that for once … for once in my life someone actually cares enough to cry because they think they’ve messed me up.”
― Charlotte Stein, Addicted

“I’m your boyfriend?”

[...]

“Well … yeah.”

“Holy shit, I’m someone’s boyfriend. Are you sure?”

“I’m sure.”

“And you’re not just saying it because it pretty much means I have to tell you now?”

“To be honest, I’m kind of scared that the word slipped out.”

I love him for doing a little fist pump after I’ve said that. I love him for sounding so delighted about the whole idea. He keeps saying ‘boyfriend’ in this wondering, chuckling sort of manner, and then when he’s done I love him even harder.”
― Charlotte Stein, Addicted

“A vagina. Were you really that mystified there, or are you actually not sure?’
‘Sure about what?’
Goddamn, he needs to finish his sentences.
‘About the benefits of having a vagina.’
‘Look – I know the benefits, OK?’
I totally don’t. Currently it feels like an angry animal that wants to eat him, between my legs.”
― Charlotte Stein, Addicted

“Hey, calm down, OK? My penis isn’t going to suddenly lunge at your face.”
― Charlotte Stein, Addicted

“I’m quite aware of what I am, Kit. I know how people look at me. I’m the guy you see in some bar, being loud and obnoxious. I’m the jock at your college, throwing a basketball onto your desk as you’re trying to study. I know I am. But I want more than that now. I’m too old to be playing games any more.”
― Charlotte Stein, Addicted

“You know what else is adorable? When I can clearly see you having a furious discussion in your own head.”

“That’s visible?”

Oh, God, how mortifying.

“Kit, you practically mouth the words.”

“I do not,” I protest, but now I’m not so sure. No one’s ever said this to me before. I was always certain that my silence was taken for a lack of things to say, instead of the opposite: sometimes, there are so many things I want to say that they overwhelm me. I’ve got years of unsaid conversations in my head.”
― Charlotte Stein, Addicted

“It feels like you dropped your nightstick down your pants.’

‘Oh, so that’s where that went.’

‘I’m not kidding. Is this all you? Because if so, I think I may need to rethink a few things. I may need to rethink the shape and depth of my vagina.”
― Charlotte Stein, Addicted

“It’s enough to send a spike of sensation through me, and enough to make him push out this delicious sound. It’s like an oh with the smooth bits sawn off, all rough and guttural and so good to hear.”
― Charlotte Stein, Addicted

“I want to taste that sweet little mouth of yours,” he says, but he’s not done. He’s just using a dramatic pause to build the tension for the next bit. And it’s good that he does, because the next part is this: “Before I make you come so hard you forget who you are.”
― Charlotte Stein, Addicted

“I love you,” he says, though once he’s done it I can see he isn’t happy with it. He shakes his head and clicks his fingers, then puts his hand on his chest as he makes the declaration. “I love you.”

“The second one,” I tell him, mainly because the second one gave me goose bumps. “Definitely.”

“Or I could do it on one knee? Maybe add a bit of poetry? My love is a rare rose that blooms at the sight of you …” he offers, but of course we’re both trying not to laugh now. Something as terrifying as love, and somehow I’m relaxed enough to laugh. “But that’s not really me, right? If I was going to go with the honest version, it’d be more like this: my love is like a giant rampaging mutant from another dimension, intent on actually ingesting you in case you had any ideas about running away.”
― Charlotte Stein, Addicted

“OK, so … hugging. How does that go? You sort of … stretch your arms out …” He does so too robotically, too broadly. It looks kind of like he’s trying to find a boulder to slot into the space he’s made between his chest and his hands. He looks like Donkey Kong, I think, and then I giggle. “What? I’m getting this soooo right. I just have to clamp these things around you, now …”
― Charlotte Stein, Addicted

“I’m talking about you, you idiot. You have seen you, right?”

[...]

“Of course I have. I saw myself last Wednesday. My hair was doing this woo-woo thing,” I say, but only because I’m panicking. My palms have gone all sweaty and my mouth has dried to a crisp. It’s like my saliva has disappeared down into my hands.

And all because he said I had nice lips.

“Can you give me a demonstration of this woo-woo?”

“Well, my fringe was kind of going out here like – Christ, what am I doing? Don’t ask me to do stupid things.”

“Why?”

“Because I might do them.”
― Charlotte Stein, Addicted