Novels by Alia Writes

The cool night air did nothing to quench the heat radiating from my body as he held me against the railing, his cock still buried deep, softening but twitching with aftershocks. My ass ached from his brutal fucking, cum leaking out, mixing with my own juices on my thighs, but the hunger hadn’t faded—it only grew, a relentless ache that demanded more. He pulled out slowly, a low groan escaping him, and I whimpered at the loss, my pussy clenching around nothing. “Still needy,” he murmured, turning me to face him, his hands roaming my body, smearing the mess between us. His fingers found my clit, rubbing in slow circles, and I bucked against him, oversensitive but desperate. “Look at you, trembling for me already.” “Shut up and fuck me again,” I gasped, grabbing his shirt and pulling him close, my lips crashing into his. The kiss was savage, tongues battling, teeth clashing, his taste—salt, whiskey, and me—driving me wild. He responded with equal ferocity, lifting me off the railing an

The city stretched out below like a glittering tapestry, its lights twinkling against the midnight sky as I stood on the rooftop terrace, the cool October air brushing against my skin. It was 09:11 AM WAT on Thursday, October 09, 2025, but up here, time felt irrelevant—suspended in the haze of a gala I’d fled downstairs. My black dress hugged my curves, the plunging neckline exposing the swell of my breasts, nipples hardening from the breeze and the thrill of being alone. I shouldn’t have been here, sneaking away from the polished crowd, but the solitude was intoxicating, the edge of the railing calling to me with a dangerous promise. Champagne fizzed in my glass, my fingers trembling slightly as I sipped, the alcohol fueling the heat pooling between my thighs.Footsteps echoed behind me—slow, deliberate, sending a shiver of anticipation down my spine. I turned, heart pounding, and there he was, emerging from the shadows like a predator stalking prey. Tall and lean, his white shirt un

The fire crackled in the hearth, casting dancing shadows across the cabin walls, but the real heat was between us—raw, animalistic, consuming everything in its path. My body still trembled from the first orgasm, cum drying on my back, pussy sore but aching for more. He lay beside me, his cock already hardening again, eyes locked on mine with that predatory gleam. "You think that's all? We're stuck here all night. I'm gonna fuck you until you can't walk." I shivered at his words, rolling onto my side to face him, my hand trailing down his chest, over the ridges of his abs, to grip his thickening shaft. "Promise?" I whispered, stroking him slowly, feeling him grow in my palm. He groaned, thrusting into my hand, his fingers finding my nipple, twisting it hard enough to make me yelp. "Get on your hands and knees," he ordered, voice rough. I obeyed, ass in the air, pussy exposed and dripping. He kneeled behind me, spreading my cheeks, his tongue diving into my folds again, lapping hungri

The rain pounded against the old wooden cabin like a relentless drumbeat, each drop echoing my growing frustration as the storm trapped me in this isolated spot deep in the woods. I'd come here for a weekend escape, to clear my head from the monotonous grind of city life, but now the roads were flooded, the power was out, and I was alone with nothing but a flickering lantern and the howling wind. My thin tank top and shorts clung to my skin from the humidity, my nipples hardening against the fabric as the chill seeped in. I paced the small room, my bare feet slapping against the creaky floorboards, trying to ignore the ache building between my legs—a familiar restlessness that always hit when I was isolated like this.That's when the knock came—three heavy thuds that cut through the thunder like a command. My heart jumped, a mix of fear and excitement surging through me. Who the hell could be out there in this mess? I approached the door cautiously, peering through the small window, b

The wind tore across the rooftop, whipping strands of hair across my face, but I barely noticed. All I could feel was him—heat, pressure, hunger—and every nerve ending in my body screamed for more.“You’re trembling,” he murmured, low and rough, pressing close, hands roaming my body. “Do you know why?”“Yes… I… I can’t… I need…” I gasped, pressing back instinctively, thighs quivering, core aching uncontrollably. “I need you…”“Good,” he murmured, sliding his hands under my skirt, fingers curling expertly, pressing, teasing, drawing every moan, every gasp, every shiver from me. “Because I’m not stopping until you’re screaming my name, trembling, begging for more.”His lips found mine in a fierce, demanding kiss, tongue and teeth teasing, lips pressing hard against mine. My hands tangled in his hair, pulling him closer, clinging, desperate. Every nerve ending was alive, every inch of me on fire.“You’re mine,” he whispered, voice low and commanding. “Every gasp, every moan… all yours.”

The city skyline stretched endlessly beneath me, lights twinkling like a thousand tiny stars, but I barely noticed. All I could feel was the heat of him behind me, the press of his body, the electricity sparking between us.We weren’t supposed to be here. Not on this rooftop, not in this dangerous, forbidden space, not like this. But temptation had a way of breaking every rule.He leaned close, breath hot against my ear. “You really shouldn’t be standing so close to the edge,” he murmured, voice low, rough, teasing. “It’s dangerous.”“I can handle it,” I whispered, though my knees were already trembling, heart racing, thighs pressing together. “I can handle… this.”“You don’t know what ‘this’ really means,” he murmured, pressing closer, hands brushing along my waist, teasing, claiming. “Until you feel it, until you taste it, until you’re trembling and undone.”His hands slid over my body, teasing, curling, pressing against every curve, every sensitive spot. My breath hitched, body arc

Elena hadn’t been able to sleep all night. The echoes of Adrian’s touch, the memory of his lips brushing so close to hers, the dangerous heat in his eyes—it all haunted her in the dark silence of her bedroom. Richard had been snoring beside her, oblivious, while she lay wide awake, torn between guilt and longing.She told herself again and again that it had to stop. Whatever this was, whatever dangerous game they had begun to play—it needed to end before it consumed her. He was her stepson, her husband’s child. She was supposed to be the respectable wife, the perfect stepmother.But then morning came, and she found herself in the kitchen, robe tied loosely around her waist, and there he was.Adrian. Leaning against the counter like he owned the place, shirtless, a glass of juice in his hand. His dark hair was damp from the shower, and droplets of water slid down his chest, disappearing into the waistband of his sweatpants.Her throat went dry.“Morning,” he drawled, his lips curving i

The mansion was too quiet.Elena had spent the day scrubbing counters, rearranging bookshelves, folding already-folded clothes—anything to keep herself busy. Anything to avoid thinking about the kiss. About his hands pinning her to the wall. About the way her body burned every time he came too close.But it was useless.No matter how hard she tried, Adrian lingered in her thoughts like a shadow she couldn’t escape. She hated herself for it. She hated the way her pulse spiked at the thought of him. She hated the way her thighs pressed together at night, seeking a relief she couldn’t admit to.By evening, she was exhausted, drained from fighting a battle she was losing inside her own skin.She decided to soak in the bathtub. Hot water. Lavender oil. Silence. Maybe that would help.Steam curled around the marble bathroom, fogging the mirror. Elena slid into the water, letting it envelop her, her head tipping back against the edge. She closed her eyes, willing herself to forget, if only f

Elena couldn’t look at herself in the mirror.Every time she tried, she saw swollen lips, flushed skin, eyes that glistened with guilt—and memory. The taste of Adrian lingered in her mouth, cruel proof of what she’d done.I kissed him back.The thought clawed at her chest like a dagger. She should have screamed. She should have slapped him. She should have ended it right there. But she hadn’t. Instead, she’d melted into him, clung to him, begged with her body for more.Her husband’s face flickered through her mind, bringing nausea. Gregory had trusted her, given her a home, his name. And she’d betrayed him in the worst way imaginable.The doorbell rang, startling her out of her spiral.Elena pressed a hand to her chest, exhaling shakily. Thank God. A distraction.But when she went downstairs, the hallway was empty. No visitor. No delivery.Just Adrian.He leaned against the wall near the door, watching her silently. His arms were folded across his chest, veins running thick across his

Elena didn’t sleep a single hour.She had gone back to her room after the kitchen incident, but her body refused to settle. Every time she closed her eyes, she felt Adrian’s fingers grazing her thigh again, lingering, promising. Every time she turned her head on the pillow, she swore she could still smell his cologne — sharp, masculine, dangerously addictive.By dawn, she sat upright in bed, robe clutched around her, exhausted yet restless. Her husband, Gregory, was away on a week-long business trip, and the emptiness of the mansion suddenly felt like a trap. A gilded cage where temptation lurked behind every corner.She thought of making breakfast, distracting herself, maybe even calling a friend. But the sound of footsteps in the hall froze her blood.She didn’t have to look to know. It was him.Adrian.The soft creak of her door made her chest squeeze tight. She turned quickly, heart pounding, and there he was — leaning casually against the frame, hair tousled, a lazy smirk tugging

The grandfather clock in the hallway struck midnight.Elena lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, sheets twisted around her body. Sleep was impossible. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw Adrian’s smirk, felt the ghost of his breath against her ear, heard that sinful question again.Do you miss being touched?Her thighs pressed together instinctively. Shame curled inside her, but so did heat. She couldn’t stop thinking about him—about the way he’d looked at her, as if he could strip her bare without ever lifting a finger.She groaned softly and pushed the covers away. Maybe a glass of water would cool her down. Maybe walking through the quiet halls would clear her mind.Padding barefoot down the hallway, she wrapped her silk robe tightly around herself. The marble floor was cool against her skin as she descended the staircase and slipped into the kitchen.The mansion was silent, except for the faint hum of the refrigerator. She reached for a glass in the cupboard, her robe shifting

The silence in the mansion was suffocating.Elena leaned back against the plush headboard, her eyes fixed on the golden chandelier above her, its light casting soft glimmers over the expensive sheets. She shifted, the silk of her nightgown sliding up her thighs, exposing smooth skin. A sigh slipped past her lips, heavy with loneliness.Down the hall, she knew her husband was locked away in his study, his voice probably raised on another late-night phone call. Richard had a way of making her feel like a beautiful ornament—something to look at, something to display, but never something to hold.She pressed her palm against the empty side of the bed. Cold. Untouched.The sharp crunch of tires on gravel outside startled her. Her head turned toward the window, and through the sheer curtains she saw the beams of headlights sweep across the driveway. A sleek black car rolled to a stop near the garage.Her breath caught.He was here.Adrian.Richard’s son. Her stepson.Elena hadn’t seen him i

Wind tore across the sand as the black helicopter descended, its rotors scattering smoke and salt spray. Aria raised an arm to shield her face; the air burned with grit and the smell of fuel. Beside her, Ethan steadied himself against the wind, eyes narrowed to slits.“Stay behind me,” he said.She didn’t move. “You can’t keep saying that.”The machine settled halfway between them and the dying fire on the ridge. Its search-light swept the shoreline once, then fixed on them like a single white eye. A hatch slid open. A woman in a flight suit leaned out, shouting over the roar, “Are you Blackwood and Morgan?”Ethan shouted back, “Who are you?”“Your only exit!”The engines pulsed harder, demanding a decision. Above the surf, faint echoes of gunfire drifted down from the cliffs. The Syndicate hadn’t given up.The ChoiceAria turned to Ethan. “If we get in that thing, we might never know who’s flying it.”“If we don’t,” he answered, “we’ll never know anything again.”She hesitated. For o

The morning broke pale and thin over Porto Santo, light seeping through the cloud cover like water through cracks in stone. The Silas Institute sat at the island’s highest ridge, its broken windows glinting faintly. From below it looked dead. From inside, Aria Morgan could feel the slow, stubborn pulse of machines still breathing in the dark.She followed Dr Clara Voss down a stairwell that smelled of rust and brine. The air was heavy with the residue of chemicals, the hum of backup generators echoing through the halls.“Your mother built most of this herself,” Clara said quietly. “She believed information could outlive blood.”“And Ethan believed blood could control information,” Aria answered.Neither spoke again until they reached the lower level. Rows of glass tubes lined the corridor, each one fogged from within, each tagged with a code. Most were empty; some held fragments—vials, samples, names half-erased by mold.Aria’s stomach twisted. “These were… people?”“Prototypes,” Clar

The waves whispered against the hull as the boat drifted through open water. Aria sat at the stern, the cold wind tangling her hair, her hands gripping the edge of her coat. Lisbon was a smudge of gold far behind her now—its lights fading like a memory she wasn’t sure had ever been real.The captain, an old man with skin tanned by decades of sun, stood at the helm, humming to himself in Portuguese. He hadn’t asked questions when she boarded. She’d given him a wad of euros and a destination scribbled on paper: Porto Santo.He only nodded and said, “Long night, menina?”She had smiled faintly, too tired to lie. “The longest.”Now, in the gray light of dawn, the adrenaline was gone. All that was left was the ache.Her body hurt in places she hadn’t known could hurt. Her heart most of all.The Ghost of HimEvery time she closed her eyes, she saw Ethan. His face in the café window. His voice over the gunfire. The way he said too latebefore disappearing into chaos.Part of her still expecte

The ocean wind swept through the narrow Lisbon streets, carrying the scent of salt and diesel and rain-washed stone. Aria walked fast, her hood drawn low over her face. The morning sun was soft and gold, but her nerves buzzed like static.Every instinct told her she was being watched.She passed a café with blue-tiled walls, its windows fogged from the warmth inside. People laughed over coffee and pastel de nata. The normalcy of it all ached.She slipped into a corner seat, her back to the wall, her laptop open.Her fingers trembled as she reconnected to the encrypted archive Nathaniel had exposed. The words Project Silas pulsed in the header, stark black against white.She clicked.The FileA video opened—grainy footage, time-stamped fifteen years ago.A man in a lab coat was speaking into the camera, his face shadowed. “Phase One concluded. The genetic material was stabilized. Subject C has approved continuation under her daughter’s identity—Subject A.M.—to preserve access to Blackw

The rain hadn’t stopped. It fell in soft, endless sheets, turning the streets into rivers of reflected neon. Aria walked without knowing where she was going, her boots splashing through puddles, her body numb from exhaustion. Her mind replayed the last hour in pieces—Ethan’s eyes when he saw her, Nathaniel’s voice, the folder with her name written over and over.By the time she reached the edge of the city, dawn had begun to break.The skyline bled gold and gray.A cab slowed near the curb, its driver eyeing her warily. “Miss, you all right?”She hesitated. Her reflection in the window was a ghost—hair wet, mascara smudged, a bruise shadowing her jaw where Ethan’s grip had been too tight the night before.“Airport,” she said hoarsely. “Any terminal.”The driver nodded. “Rough night?”“You have no idea.”The EscapeShe paid him in cash from her coat pocket—Ethan’s money, though it felt like stolen currency now—and stepped out beneath the flood of terminal lights.Inside, the airport bu

The fire in Nathaniel’s study had burned low, its light flickering against the tall windows. Aria sat at the desk, the folder he had left in front of her unopened.Outside, rain drummed softly against the glass, the rhythm steady as a heartbeat.She stared at the folder for a long time. A single word was stamped across the cover in bold, black ink.BLACKWOOD.It felt like the name itself carried weight, like saying it aloud might summon the storm.Her fingers shook as she reached for it.The FileInside were photographs—grainy, old, some taken overseas. Ethan with men she didn’t recognize. Some meetings looked formal, others dangerous. In one, he was shaking hands with a man wearing a black ring carved with the same dagger-and-circle emblem from the files she’d seen.She turned the pages. There were transactions in multiple currencies, hidden companies, and government seals she didn’t understand. But every few pages, one thing repeated.Her name.Aria Morgan. Linked to numbered accoun