Novels by Raven Writes

He didn't stop.That was the thing about Carlo. He never stopped until he decided to.His cock drove into me in long punishing strokes and I'd lost count of how many times I'd squirted. Twice, three times, I didn't know anymore. My body had stopped keeping score. All I knew was the stretch and the burn and the devastating fullness of him, over and over, relentless, until my voice was raw from screaming and my thighs were shaking so hard I couldn't control them."Carlo—" His name came out in pieces. "Please — I can't—""You can." He didn't slow down. "You're taking it perfectly."He shifted the angle and drove deeper and my eyes rolled back behind the blindfold. My whole body convulsed around him. The orgasm rolled through me slow and crushing, like a wave with no intention of breaking clean, just building and building until my lungs stopped working and all I could do was shake.Then he slowed his pace.Not stopped. Slowed. Long, deep, deliberate strokes that dragged against every inch

The crack of his palm against my ass split through the air like a gunshot. I screamed, loud, raw, the sound swallowed by whatever this room was. I hadn’t gotten the chance to look at it properly before he’d put the blindfold on me. I’d caught maybe three seconds of it on the way in—stone walls, high ceiling, black curtains, red interior over all and things hanging on the walls I didn’t let myself look at too long.A dungeon. My husband had a dungeon.Carlo, who I’d known for exactly two days before my father signed my life over to him like a business transaction, had a dungeon under his house. And I was in it. Bent over something padded and leather with my wrists cuffed behind my back and my ass in the air and I couldn’t see a single thing.I ran off. Twenty four hours of actual freedom before his men found me in a hotel, seven hours away from him, wrapped in a bathrobe eating room service like I’d actually gotten away with something. He hadn’t said a single word to me the entire driv

He doesn't answer immediately. He's looking at me the way a man looks at something he's been wanting for a long time and has decided to risk everything just to get it. His cock jumps visibly against his shorts.Then the fabric shifts and he slips free.I forget to breathe.He is huge. Thick and hard and flushed dark, curved slightly upward, and he sits there and lets me look with the easy confidence of a man who knows exactly what he owns. My thighs press together on pure instinct."Oh my God," I breathe. Barely."You've been staring at me for two months," he says simply. "I noticed." He wraps his hand around himself slowly. Strokes once, slow, his eyes never leaving mine.My stomach drops painfully."You want it." It wasn’t a question."I do." No point in pretending."Earn it." His voice is quiet, commanding, certain. "Touch yourself."My hand moves between my legs before he even finishes the sentence. I find my clit immediately — I’m swollen, slick and aching— and the contact rips l

I press my thighs together, take a breath to wake up with the decision already made.Not contemplating. No listing reasons why this is a totally bad idea while I brush my teeth. The decision settled somewhere in the dark hours of the night and arrived this morning fully formed, sitting in my chest like something I swallowed.Today.I make two cups of coffee.But first, I take a shower. Long and slow and deliberate, the kind of shower that is less about getting clean and more about preparation. I use the good body wash, the one that smells like vanilla and warm amber that I bought three months ago and have been saving for no reason that makes sense now. I wax off everything, moisturise twice then I proceed to dry my hair and leave it loose around my shoulders.I stand in front of my closet and pull out an oversized long-sleeved white shirt. One of my husband's old ones actually, which feels appropriate in a way I notice too closely. I pull it on. Nothing underneath it. No bra, no panti

The house is too quiet again.It’s always too quiet.I’m on my third glass of wine — or maybe it’s my second, I stopped counting after the first — sitting at the kitchen counter with my phone in front of me like I’m waiting for it to do something. Seventeen texts in one week. I know because I counted. I open the thread again, scroll up to the top like maybe something changed since the last time I checked five minutes ago.It didn’t.Babe, how’s the trip?Haven’t heard from you. You good?It’s been seven days.Okay so you’re just not responding now?Don’t you miss me at all?Just how busy are you?I put the phone down. Pick it up again. Put it down.He turned the read receipts off two trips ago. Said I was being paranoid, that I needed to trust him. I remember standing in the doorway watching him say it, watching his hands fold a shirt with this calm, practiced efficiency, and thinking — this man has already left me. He’s just still in the room.That was five weeks ago.I finish what’s

I stumbled through the door, sweat dripping down my face, and a post-workout buzz still pulsing through my veins. It was a Monday morning, and I'd timed it just right – or so I thought. The house was supposed to be empty, Mum and Spectre off at work, but clearly, I'd gotten that wrong.On arriving at the stairs, I heard the sounds, coming from the far end of the hallway.Then I drew closer and closer and the sound intensified— The sound of skin clapping against skin, deep rooted groans and moans so unrestrained, you’d think the female in question has never had real cock before.It was no use wondering where those obscene sound could possibly be coming from because apart from me, only Amy's room was left at that section of the house.I tried to keep my steps as mute as possible. Finally, I got to the hallway. The noise was from Amy’s room and her door was half open. My eyes quickly scanned the room.She path her legs very wide apart, her right hand working her wet, ruined pussy in long

As we approached the parking lot of the tower, I saw him.Mr. Reynor stood in front of the SUV, hands clenched into fists at his sides, his eyes blazing in the dim light of the parking lot. Anger was carved into his face, sharp and ugly.He wasn’t the usual calm, composed, and organized person I knew him to be. He wasn’t still like a lifeless sculpture, calculating and cold. He was vibrating with it, trying to control his fury as he struggled to stay calm.Mike parked right beside the SUV, and the moment his shoes touched the ground, Donovan moved.Fast.Donovan lunged towards him, his fist crashing painfully into Mike’s nose. The sound was wet, ugly. Blood streamed down one nostril immediately as Mike staggered back, his hands flying up to his face to try and stop it.“No! Wait!” I screamed from the other side of the seat, my door flying open before I even began moving. I rounded the car to stop him, my heart in my throat.But two huge men dressed in black caught me before I could re

But I couldn’t answer. I was too busy shaking. Reliving that one moment where the trigger was almost pulled at me. My ears were ringing with the memory of that click.“I’m sorry,” I said as I cried. The word felt useless. Pathetic.“What the hell are you sorry for? You did nothing wrong. Tess.”“Get it away from me. Please.” I begged as my voice remained small and weak. I couldn’t look at the counter. I couldn’t look at her hands.“Okay, c’mon. Let’s go to the living room.”She gave me a tissue to dry my face as she sat quietly beside me. She didn’t push. She didn’t ask. She just sat there, her knee touching mine, until my breathing slowed down enough that I didn’t feel like I was drowning.When I’d gathered myself, I sobbed. “I’m sorry, it’s just…” My voice was half sob, half laughter.“Who the hell did that to you?”I scoffed, the sound wet and ugly. “Who could it possibly be?”“I can’t believe this. Rand again? How could he do that to you?”“I don’t know. I thought I was going to d

My hand shot to the strap of my bag the moment I reached my desk. The leather was warm, worn soft from months of me gripping it too tight whenever Donovan walked into a room. I didn’t think about it. I just did it.I picked up my phone and checked that I had everything in place. His schedule was mostly empty now that the auction drew closer. Just mostly packed with meetings I had no business accompanying him to. Board calls with people whose names I didn’t know. Perfect.When I took my phone and bag, I hit Addison a flash as I headed for the elevator. My thumb moved faster than my conscience.“Hi, Addie,” I said when she picked up. My voice sounded too bright, like if I sounded normal, it would lessen my chances of getting caught.“Hi,” she said back. Just that and already I heard it. The edge. She was still mad. She had every right to be.“Are you home?”“Yeah, why?”“Well, I’m coming over to you right now.”“Okay? But aren’t you at work?”“I am. And I’m still coming. Byeeeee, love y

We got the conference room. I settled in the seat beside him. The air was thick. You could feel it pressing against your skin. Everyone seemed agitated, like something big was coming. Something that could either make us or break us. All the secretaries were on edge. Vanessa kept clicking her pen—click click click—until the woman next to her shot her a look. Marcus had sweat beading at his temple even though the AC was blasting. His knuckles were white around his tablet. But for some reason, I seemed like the only one who was relaxed. After what happened in his office, after the way my body still hummed and ached for him. This felt different. The urge to lean in and ask someone what the hell was going on kicked in, but I pushed it down as fast as it came to me. I wasn’t supposed to ask. I was supposed to know. I was his secretary. I was supposed to be two steps ahead. Everyone had finally settled, and the room went silent. The kind of silence that hurts your ears. Mr. Reynor stoo

I straightened my skirt with shaking hands, tugging the hem down like it could somehow put me back together. The fabric felt wrong. Too tight. Like it remembered everything my skin still couldn’t forget. I arranged my shirt next. Fingers fumbling with the buttons. One, two, three. I missed a hole and had to start over. My breath hitched. Then I walked out the door. My knees were still very unsteady. It was like my legs had forgotten how to hold me. Like my bones had turned to jelly. I made it three steps before I collapsed into the chair immediately. My desk chair. It spun a little from the impact, and I gripped the armrests to stop the world from tilting. I brought my two hands to palm my face, letting out a shaky breath. It came out broken. Wet. My palms were cold against my cheeks, and I pressed hard, like I could push the last half hour back inside me. Like I could erase it. "Aurélie, what are you turning into?" I whispered into my hands. Then I laughed. It was a horr

"Bolt the door," he said.I didn't argue. I walked back and twisted the lock until it clicked into place, the sound settling tension in the room.When I turned around, he was already on his feet.He crossed toward me slowly, deliberate in every step, and backed me up until my hands found the wall behind me and had nowhere left to go. The gap between us disappeared completely. I felt the warmth of him before any contact was made — that heat that radiated off him when he was focused, when his whole attention had narrowed me to a single spot.His hand found the door handle beside my head. Twisted it open. He pushed us both through into the bathroom, the door falling shut behind us.Then he bent me over the counter.His hand grazed my ass slowly, and I felt the heat of it — unhurried, assessing, like he was deciding exactly how he wanted to do this."I told you to stay away from Mike." His voice was low. Controlled. His fingers pressed into the flesh. "Why didn't you listen?"I opened my