Novels by Raven Writes

The morning light cut across the room in thin gold rays. I woke sticky and sore, Beckett’s arm heavy across my waist, his cock soft but still half-hard against my ass. The room smelled like sex, sweat and the coffee he must have made at some point last night. My project notes lay scattered on the floor where I had dropped my bag. The paper that had been my excuse felt like my biggest enemy.I tried to slide free without waking him but his arm tightened around me.“Slick bastard. Running already?” His voice was sleep-rough, amused. “After I came inside you?”Heat flooded my face. I had lost count somewhere after the second round on the sofa and the third against the kitchen counter. My cunt still felt open and used. His cum had dried in sticky trails down my inner thighs. “I have class,” I said, but the protest landed flat.Beckett sat up behind me, chest warm against my back. One hand slid around to cup my breast, thumb brushing the nipple that immediately tightened. “Class can wait.

I promised myself I wouldn't ever need his help. Not for this entire semester nor for this course. Not after the last argument, not after the way he had looked at me like I was some sort of stupid being. Beckett Vaughn was a third-year senior with a GPA that made professors soft and a mouth that doesn't know how and when to shut the fuck up. He was arrogant as hell. Stupid-smart in the way that made every correction feel like an insult. I was a freshman still learning where the hell the east campus library even was, and somehow I had ended up paired with him for a joint research that neither of us could drop without tanking our GPA. Four nights ago he had leaned across the long table in the quiet stacks, arm brushing mine while he stabbed a finger at a paragraph I had spent three hours writing. “This is stupid and mid” he said, voice low enough that only I could hear. “You’re smarter than this crap you just wrote. Fix it or I’ll fix it for you and take the credit.” I had told him to

She dragged him behind the science block the second the lunch bell rang. Their was barely any conversation between them, just her fist in the front of his shirt and the look that said she was already soaked and dying to get a piece of him. The narrow strip of concrete between the building and the chain-link fence was half-hidden by overgrown bushes and a row of overflowing dumpsters. Students cut through the main path twenty feet away. Voices, laughter, and the scrape of shoes on the pavement.She shoved him down onto the low concrete ledge, yanked her pleated plaid mini skirt up around her waist, and hooked one leg over his shoulder. She had no panties on. She’d taken them off in the bathroom between second and third period and stuffed them in her bag. Her pussy was already shiny, the outer lips swollen and parted, a thick string of clear slick of arousal connecting them when she spread her feet wider.“Eat my pussy” she hissed. “Right fucking now. And don’t you dare stop even if som

She was still face down on the bed, dress bunched around her waist, panties shoved aside, his cum still leaking from her cunt in thick streaks down her thighs. He grabbed the wine bottle again, tipped it, and poured a slow stream over her lower back, watching it run down the curve of her ass and between her cheeks. Some of it mixed with the cum already dripping out of her. He set the bottle aside, leaned down, and licked a long stripe up the mess—wine, cum, the slick of her cunt—tongue dragging over her hole and the stretched lips of her pussy. She shivered. He did it again, slower, tasting himself on her, then spread her cheeks with both hands and licked her asshole while she was still leaking.He growled against her skin. “Still so hot for me. Good.”He flipped her onto her stomach properly, yanked a pillow under her hips so her ass was raised, and worked two fingers into her cunt first, scooping out some of the cum and spreading it up to her tighter hole. She moaned into the sheets

She walked into the hotel bar alone. No friends, no plans, just the quiet decision already made in her head. Tonight she wanted to be used properly and left full. No strings attached. Just a man who knows how to fuck a woman.He noticed her the second he sat down.She was already on a stool near the end of the bar, legs crossed, one heel hooked on the rung, a glass of something clear in front of her that she barely touched. Dark dress, low enough that the top of her tits showed when she leaned forward. She wasn’t looking around for just any company. She was waiting for the right kind of attention.He ordered a whiskey, then nodded at the bartender and pointed at her. “Whatever she’s drinking. Make it a red.”The glass arrived in front of her without a word. She looked at it, then at him. Their eyes met and held. No smile. Just the slow, deliberate tension held between them, the swell of her tits under the dress, the way her legs shifted on the stool like she already felt the weight of

Still coughing and spit-slick, she was yanked up, spun around, and bent hard over the break-room counter. He shoved her skirt up, ripped her panties to the side, and drove into her cunt in one brutal stroke. No warm-up, no mercy. Just the loud, wet slap of him fucking her from behind while she gripped the edge and moaned like a whore. He held her down by the back of the neck and pounded her until her legs shook and she was dripping down her thighs, still tasting him on her tongue from the face-fucking she’d just taken.Her cheek pressed against the cool counter of the desk. Her hands scrambled for purchase on the edge. He didn’t give her a second to adjust. The second her cunt stretched around the thick head of his cock he slammed the rest of the way in, burying himself to the hilt in one hard thrust. She cried out, the sound raw and loud in the empty break room. Her pussy was soaked—dripping from the orgasm she’d had with his cock down her throat—and it made wet, filthy sounds that m

The next day happened fast. It was finally the day of the auction. The evening, rather. Donovan had been gone all day. Ever since I’d come clean with my feelings last night, he’d been avoiding me. He hadn’t said a single word to me all morning, hadn’t even looked in my direction when I brought his coffee. Just a curt nod and then he was gone, disappearing into meetings I wasn’t invited to.I hated that I’d made him feel heavy enough that he had to run away from me.But I didn’t regret it.It was 7 PM on the dot when the doorbell rang. I opened it to find Donovan standing there with another woman — the designer who’d made my dress.I was already clean, already ready. I could have done everything else myself. But he’d brought her to dress me up anyway.So much for someone who claims to have no feelings for me.We got dressed in near silence, the designer fussing over the final details of a deep black gown that cinched at my waist and flared elegantly toward the floor. And in no time, we

Aurélie POV.“Come here.” The words were low and rough as Donovan scooped me into his arms. I barely had time to register the shift before he was carrying me out of the library, my bare skin pressed against his chest, the mess he’d left on my stomach smearing between us. “Where are you taking me?” My voice came out small, shaky, still rough from the way he’d used my body on that table. He didn’t answer. I held onto his shoulder tighter, feeling the solid heat of his skin, the steady flex of muscle under my palms as he walked. Every step made the leftover wetness between my thighs shift, a constant reminder of how thoroughly he’d already fucked me. My pulse wouldn’t settle. It kept thudding hard against my ribs, against the places where his hands gripped me. We reached his room. He set me down gently in front of his bed. My feet touched the floor and I stared down, breath catching hard in my throat. He was hard again. Thick, flushed, precum beading at the tip, the same cock

I sealed my mouth over her other nipple and sucked hard, drawing the stiff peak between my lips while my tongue flicked the sensitive tip. Her back arched foward, a broken moan tearing from her throat as her fingers tightened in my hair. I switched to the other breast, lavishing the same attention, biting down just enough to make her moan before soothing it with wet strokes of my tongue. Her skin tasted clean and faintly of whatever lotion she used. I kept at it until both nipples were flushed and shiny with my spit, her chest heaving under me.Then I tugged at the thin lace of her panties. She lifted her hips without being asked, giving me the access I needed. I slid the scrap of fabric down her thighs, past her knees, and finally off her ankles, letting it drop onto the table beside her. She was bare now, completely open to me, the soft pink of her pussy already glistening.She lifted both legs onto the table as she parted them wider. Her palms flat against the wood behind her, for

She wasn’t in her room.I knocked on three times, and waited before pushing through the door open when she didn’t answer. The bed was untouched, the lamp still on, her phone charging on the nightstand. My pulse ticked up a notch. The balcony on the top floor was next . The one she liked, the one that looked out over the pool. It was empty too. Just the wind and the dark and my own reflection in the glass, tense and unconvincing.Where the hell are you. “Aurélie.” I called.Then it hit me. The library.I was moving before I finished the thought.I found her standing on her toes, reaching for a book on the top shelf, and the sight of her stopped me dead in the doorway.She was wearing my shirt. Oversized, hanging loose off one shoulder, and the stretch of her reaching upward had pulled the hem high enough to show the soft curve of her ass, bare thighs catching the low library light.I felt it everywhere at once.She turned, sensing me there, and smiled like she hadn’t just wrecked my

I walked out of my office to check for Aurélie. It became a habit. Every four hours, sometimes less. I’d tell myself it was because she was my secretary and I needed her to get things done. It was a lie. I just needed to see her behind that desk. Safe. Breathing. Looking annoyed at me, preferably. Her desk was empty. The chair was pushed in. Her bag was gone. Her laptop was blind. And the air in her space was stale.My chest tightened so fast I had to grip the doorframe. A panic attack. It was stupid and unexpected. I don’t do panic attacks. But the only answer as to why she wasn’t behind her desk was the one I didn’t want to agree to.She’d sneaked off to see Addison. “Where is she?” I asked Mark, my head of security. My voice came out sharper than I intended. “Sir, cameras show she left 12 minutes ago. She got into a private car in the front lot.....” The floor dropped out from under me. “Who’s car?” “We’re running plates now, Sir.” “Before we could stop her,”

I still wasn’t allowed out of his house without supervision. Not even to the gate. Not even to breathe air that wasn’t filtered through his security team. He’d leave sometimes. For hours. To “prep for the auction,” he said. That was the word he used, like it was a business trip. Like I wasn’t part of the inventory he was protecting. I didn’t understand why someone who didn’t care would keep me caged like that. It should have made me angry. And it did. But underneath the anger, there was something else. Something softer and worse. It felt oddly comforting to know someone was watching the doors because of me. To know that when I slept, I wouldn’t wake up to a gun in a bathroom. But it still wasn’t enough. It was never going to be. So I toured the villa. Endlessly. Inside and out. Every room, every corner, every floor. It was magnificent. Dark and void. Marble that swallowed sound. Glass walls that looked out onto a garden I wasn’t allowed to walk in alone. The kind of ho