Novels by Sandy White

Liak’s POV The touch triggered a survival alert in my mind and I tried to pull away sharply; in response, he released me immediately, stepping back enough to give me space, without any display of anger or impatience. He simply waited for me to find my own balance. It was then that he picked up a heavy military blanket and draped it over my trembling shoulders. In that instant, the soldier did something that completely transformed the atmosphere of that sterile room: he looked away, focusing on some random point on the wall while I tried to cover myself. It was a small gesture, almost insignificant in the middle of a war zone, but one that carried the weight of salvation he was trying to preserve what little dignity I had left, treating me like a human being when I had already accepted myself as a disposable object. Pointing toward the dark corridor, he murmured a final command. I didn’t know the man’s language, but I perfectly understood the meaning of that door open for the fir

Liak’s POV Pain was the only constant, an unrelenting gear that never stopped turning. There were moments when I naively believed I had reached the absolute limit of what the human body and mind could endure, but the men in that place always found a new way to prove me wrong, refining the suffering with an almost surgical cruelty. I lost track of time so long ago that days, weeks, and months collapsed into a single, eternal nightmare under the harsh white light of that laboratory. The penetrating smell of chemicals seemed embedded in my own skin, mixing with the constant echo of distant voices doctors debating technical terms, soldiers exchanging obscene jokes, and men in suits who stared at me through the glass as if I were little more than an exotic specimen about to be discarded. My name was Liak Vassiliev, I repeated those two words like a silent, desperate mantra, the last fragment of identity I clung to so I wouldn’t completely disappear into the fog of pain that tried to e

My arms rest on his shoulders, his hands on my back pulling me against him, and his face now buried in my neck, smelling and sucking me, marking me… We’re both at our limit… He says in a somewhat desperate, low voice as he thrusts deep inside me: “Liak, I love you.” That hits me hard. I’m really surprised. He groans deeply and I know he’s released. He squeezes my ass, pushing even deeper, and I feel my hot spurts as I surrender to the orgasm. I lift his face from my neck and we kiss deeply. We’re calming down when we look deeply into each other’s eyes. Then he says, a bit shyly: “Don’t feel obligated to say it back.” I even bite back a smile at how adorable he looks right now. I run my hand through my hair, trying to push it out of my face, and say: “I just really wasn’t expecting that.” He keeps looking at me and I open up completely to him now because he deserves it: “No one has ever said that to me before. I don’t really know how to react.” He looks at me

I get closer and he grabs my waist, pulling me toward him in a way that leaves me breathless for a few seconds. I missed him so much that even the smell of his perfume makes me close my eyes for a moment. He raises his hands to my face, holding it on both sides, and says with that sorrow in his eyes: "I missed you so much." That’s enough for me to close my eyes and feel his lips on mine. We kiss with desire and need as he shrugs off his jacket. We take a few steps back and he sits on the sofa. I sit on his lap and we keep kissing while our nervous hands roam over every part of our bodies, as if we’d lose each other if we didn’t. Longing, lust, and desire consume us now. Then he gently pulls my face away with his hands and looks me in the eyes, saying: "I talked to Lacey about us. That I want you and that we’re going to be together." That really catches me off guard. I admit that for a second I thought this might just be a relapse, but I see that it’s not, and my face lig

She now looks genuinely surprised and just says: “Oh.” Then she stammers: “You… him… you two…” I say, feeling awkward talking about this with her — it’s all new to me too: “We haven’t exactly decided this. It’s something new for me.” She stands up slowly, looks around a bit disoriented, then takes another deep breath, runs her hand through her hair, and says: “Are you really sure about this?” I nod: “Yes, I am.” She sighs and then says: “Okay.” She doesn’t look well, but there’s not much I can do right now. She thinks for a moment, puts her hands on her waist (she always does that when she’s defensive), but then says: “Look, this doesn’t change anything between us. I’ll always be here and you can count on me, especially regarding your mom.” “I appreciate that.” She then says: “Just give me some time to process this.” I reply: “Of course.” She tries to smile without much success. I see her eyes watering. She wipes her face before the tear falls and

I’m back from the mission and, before even going home, I head to my mom’s town. It’s been days since I’ve had much news about her and her health, and right now that’s one of the things I most want to know. Besides, I don’t want to go home and find everything there as empty as it has been since Liak left. I find her in the backyard working in the garden, and I like seeing that proof that she’s feeling well. “Hi, Mom.” She turns around and her happy smile when she sees me standing there instantly makes my day a hundred percent better. She stands up, comes over, and gives me a tight hug, saying: “Why didn’t you tell me you were coming today?” I hug her back and reply: “I wanted to surprise you.” ... I was so tired that my body insisted I sleep for a while before doing anything else. So that’s what I did. I wake up and realize I slept for several hours straight. It’s already around four in the afternoon. I take a shower and smell cake and cappuccino throughout the house.

The conversation was calm. She told me the club gossip, said the roses were winning the neighborhood contest, and commented on the plans for the next charity season. I listened, trying to be a present son, laughing at the right moments and talking about my trip, describing the architecture of Dubai and the exaggerated luxury of the desert dinners. But while I spoke of gold and skyscrapers, my mind kept returning to a black and gold card in a gallery in downtown New York, wondering if Kyle had already found the courage to call.“You’re distant again, Aidan."She said softly, interrupting my thoughts as she poured more coffee.“Sorry, Mom. I was just thinking about a detail for a meeting tomorrow.”“Work will always be your refuge, just like your father.”She sighed, but without bitterness.“But don’t let it be your only company. Life is too short to spend all your time inside an office, even if the office is yours.”I looked at the clock. The moment of peace was ending. The real world

Two weeks later, after closing the most profitable deals of the year and attending parties that should have been memorable, the Vance Corp private jet touched down on the runway at Teterboro Airport. New York welcomed me with its gray sky and the incessant noise I knew so well. I was back. I was richer, and perhaps my public image was even more solid after the successful international trip. But as I descended the airplane steps, the first thing I felt was the heavy weight of the city air. I was back in the same territory as him. Two weeks of parties, yachts, and beautiful women on the other side of the world had changed absolutely nothing. The car glided silently over the gravel driveway of my mother’s property a mansion that, despite all its imposing grandeur, always carried an air of serenity I couldn’t find anywhere else in New York. When I turned off the engine, the silence of the wealthy suburb hit me, a stark contrast to the urban chaos I had just left behind. I walked to

The meeting with the Green-Tech board was supposed to be the highlight of my week, but I was just a body present, occupying a leather chair. While the directors discussed profit projections and sustainability margins, my mind was trapped on that sofa in the mountain house. Kyle’s touch, the sensory “torture” he imposed on me, and the way my body responded with an intensity I didn’t even know existed… all of it felt more real than the graphs projected on the wall. I could still feel the ghost of his hands on me, a painful contrast to the coldness of that meeting room. The days that followed were a desperate attempt to bury those memories under piles of work. However, the silence of my penthouse in Manhattan only amplified his absence. I kept my promise; I stayed away. But the physical distance only seemed to shorten the obsessive distance in my mind. I boarded a flight to the United Arab Emirates for a business trip that ended up extending for nearly two weeks. Peter, my lawyer an

He picked up his phone and spent the entire trip sliding his fingers across the screen, immersed in a digital world I had no access to. I, on the other hand, could barely keep my eyes on the road. I glanced at him every five minutes. I studied the profile of his face, the line of his jaw that seemed tenser today, and the way he bit his lower lip when he read something that bothered him. My body still ached for him, a silent, humiliating demand that made me grip the steering wheel with excessive force. After almost an hour of absolute silence, I tried to start a conversation. I needed to know. “So, Kyle? What do you plan to do when we get there? If you need a better place than that apartment, or if you want me to talk to the gallery again.” “Pretty boy.” He cut me off, his voice cold and sharp as ice. “I’d prefer you call me Aidan.” He took a deep breath and continued. “Okay, Aidan then.” He barely looked up from his phone as he said it. “We’re not friends. Nothing tha

The morning in the mountains dawned wrapped in a dense fog that covered the treetops and blurred the contours of the horizon. Yet the freezing cold outside was the exact opposite of the fire that seemed to consume my body. I woke up long before the alarm, breathing shallowly. The first thing I felt, even before fully opening my eyes, was the heavy, hot, and insistent pulse of pent-up desire. The overwhelming horniness hadn’t disappeared with sleep. On the contrary, it seemed to have fed voraciously on what had happened on the sofa the night before and on my frustrated, solitary attempt at relief under the cold shower water. It was a physical and violent hunger, a visceral need that was already bordering on actual pain. I looked at my own hands resting on the rumpled sheets and gave up before even trying anything. Deep down, I knew it would be useless. Without his firm touch, without that sharp look of disdain mixed with absolute dominance, I was just a pathetic man trying to l

I came back to myself with my breathing ragged and my mind in shreds, trying to process the intensity of what had just happened. Kyle, still kneeling between my legs, watched me with a glint of amusement in his eyes. He let out a low chuckle, almost a provocation. “I always thought you had premature ejaculation because you came so fast every time.” he said, his voice now tinged with lighter irony. “But now it all makes sense. Thirteen years of drought… that’s a lot of built-up pressure, handsome.” I thought he would pull away, but Kyle didn’t let go. On the contrary, he kept his grip and continued the movement. The pleasure that seconds ago had been sublime instantly turned into acute sensitivity, bordering on discomfort. My back arched and I tried to pull away, my hands reaching for his shoulders to push him off. “Kyle, stop… it’s sensitive.” I murmured, my voice failing. “I’m going to try something.” he interrupted, ignoring my protest. He bit his own lip, holding back a sm