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

I walked into his private restroom and turned on the faucet.I didn't know what to do with my face.My mascara had smudged all the way back to my cheek, my lipstick was completely ruined, and I looked like I'd just survived a chaotic night at a club — all sober and thoroughly fucked up. My hair was an absolute disaster and I didn't even know where to start with it. I couldn't do much anyway since everything I needed was in my bag outside."Fuck." I muttered at my own reflection.A weak, satisfied smile followed immediately after.I stared at the door behind me, wondering what he was thinking. What he was doing. Whether he was sitting out there completely unbothered while I stood here looking like a completely different person.I looked at myself again and my hands moved on their own. I cupped water from the running faucet, pressed it against my face, and washed. Then again. Then a third time. It didn't fix everything, but it did something. The worst of it came away. I'd deal with the

I tried to stay calm.I really did.Marcus walked into my office with files tucked under his arm and a flash drive containing information that could cost me the entire auction if I didn’t pay attention to a single word of it.I wasn’t paying attention to a single word of it.I wished I could. I genuinely did. But Aurélie had my cock grazing the back of her throat in slow, cautious movements beneath my desk, and the ability to function like a normal human being had simply ceased to exist.I couldn’t breathe. I could technically, but I just didn’t know how to do it in a way that looked like nothing was happening under the table.She slipped my cock free from her mouth and took it in her hand instead, massaging the tip with careful, deliberate movements. My knee buckled at the contact, at the precise, maddening amount of pressure she applied in every stroke, like she’d already learned exactly what affected me the most.My thighs were ruined at this point. They had to be.I glanced down b

He made me stand between his legs, staring up at me from his seat, his hands mapping my legs slowly — sliding between my inner thighs, teasing just slightly below where I ached for him most.My knees went weak. Anger still burned in my chest, but my body betrayed me at every single turn, the way it always did when he touched me.“You could have just asked.” He said it easily, like this was the most obvious thing in the world. “Rather than whine like a little girl.”An annoyed scoff left my mouth before I could stop it. My eyes rolled on their own. “Yeah, right.”“Kneel,” his voice was low. Rough. Hoarse underneath, like it had been pulled from somewhere deeper than his throat.I lowered myself to the floor, adjusting my weight across both knees. His hand caught my chin immediately, tilting it upward until my eyes had no choice but to find his.They had gone dark. A wicked, small smile tugged at the corner of his lips — so small I almost convinced myself I’d imagined it. “Why don’t you

‎I didn't think I'd ever been this angry at him before. I'd been pissed at him before, yes, but this time it was different. A whole different form of anger — deeper, more specific and I didn't know where to put it. ‎ ‎I understood that punishments were supposed to be painful. That was the point. But this one was too much. It was worse than the first night we met, worse than being left hanging in that hotel room before I even knew his name. At least that night I hadn't known what I was missing. ‎ ‎Now I knew exactly how good his cock felt, his scent and the sounds he made when he drew close to falling apart. ‎ ‎What was I supposed to do with all of this need? My eyes found his door and an involuntary muscle ticked in my jaw. I'd lost the ability to function. My mind, my body, everything was still humming from the touch of his fingers — a persistent phantom sensation that had no off switch. There were no emails to handle, no private meetings to organise, no schedule packed enough

The moment I walked through the door, his hand caught my wrist and pulled me back until I crashed against him.His scent hit me first — warm and familiar. Then his warmth, wrapped around me completely, and my memory went blank. The whole office went silent. The only thing that existed and was loud was my own heartbeat, slamming against my ribs in raw, embarrassing excitement.A whimper escaped my lips before I could catch it.I let my body melt into his, his hand steady on my waist, and the words coiled painfully in my chest, pressing upward, trying to find their way out. I had to bite my lip to hold them back—I missed you.Even that felt like an understatement. It wasn't just missing — it was something that had settled deeper than just mere need, deeper than the ache my body had been carrying since the hotel. His scent had lingered in my sleep. The ghost of his fingers still tickled along my skin at odd, inconvenient moments. I didn't think I could ever get enough of him. I'd keep hi

A man dressed in a sharp, dark uniform stepped out of the car. Unmistakably in his late forties, steady in his movements, unhurried. He walked around to the passenger side and stood there, head slightly bowed, gesturing to the door. "Good morning, Miss."Something shifted uncomfortably in my chest.He was old enough to be my father. I hadn't earned and didn't know what to do with such treatment. I'd never had anyone open a door for me in my life. I didn't know where to put my hands, or my face, or the strange warmth crawling up the back of my neck.Before he could pull it fully open, I stopped him. "You really don't have to do that, Sir.""Well, Miss, Mr. Reynor strictly tasked me with—""Mr. Reynor isn't here right now, is he?" I cut in gently, a warm smile already on my lips before I'd finished the sentence. "Don't worry. There's no need to feel on edge around me.""Okay, Ma'am."A smile crossed his face, brief and genuine, before he dropped his gaze to the floor like he'd been caug