Novels by Raven Storm

“Fuck, I can’t get enough of you.”A small gasp left Gigi’s lips right before Roman went back to kissing her. There was something about how intensely he seemed keen on devouring her lips. It only made her crave for him more.By the time Roman pulled away again, she slowly caught her breath, chest heaving up and down while she could feel just how swollen her lips were.The first thing to go off was Gigi’s shirt. Roman tossed it to the side without a care, his eyes seemingly focused on her breasts.“You act like this is the first time you’re seeing them.” Gigi laughed.“What?” He unclasped her bra and tossed it to the floor. “Can’t a man appreciate greatness?”His hands moved first, rubbing her nipples lightly between his fingers. The sensation was almost instant, sending heat straight to her core.A small moan left her lips when he finally took one of them in his mouth. He sucked on it a little, his other hand massaging her other breast.“Mmh,” She moaned again as he sucked away. “Feel

“Now I want you to tell me one thing all these philosophers had in common with Socrates’ beliefs.”Gigi’s gaze remained on the board for a while. She gave it a couple more thoughts, then eventually raised her hand.The teacher’s eyes lingered on hers for a second. “Yes, Gigi.”“These philosophers,” she started, “As does Socrates himself, all share the belief that genuine wisdom comes from questioning assumptions, examining one’s own life as well as seeking the truth from rational dialogue.”The teacher hummed satisfactorily. “That is a good answer. Thank you for that, Gigi.”She sank back into her seat, a weird giddy feeling resting at the pit of her stomach. This would be the first time she was voluntarily answering questions in a while.It felt good.As soon as the bell rang, the teacher packed up her books and gave them an assignment to work on. Gigi set her own books into her bag, mentally preparing herself for Farah and Reese.That would be the part where they’d come over to her

“You okay?”Gigi slowly nodded, biting her lips in nervous anticipation. She’d only ever stuck her fingers down there so she didn’t know how exactly to feel about it being Roman this time around.“Good,” He grinned. His gaze never left hers as he tore off the condom packet. She watched as he placed it over his dick then turned back to her.“No cold feet, right?”She shook her head. “Let’s do it. I—I want you.”His grin seemed to grow even wider. “Damn right, you do.”He first lined the tip at her entrance, almost teasing as he rubbed it over the lips of her vagina. A small hum left her, the feeling making her squirm a little.Then, slowly, he pushed further into her. She winced when the pain hit, gently pushing at his chest.“Wait, wait.” She gasped, the pain lessening when Roman paused.He was patient, waiting until she gave the nod again for him to continue. Then he pushed some more of his length further in.As soon as the pain hit again, he stopped. It continued like that until h

For the last few days, Roman had been doing everything in his power to hold on to that little bit of self-control he had.But when those simple words had left Gigi’s lips, the last bit of patience he had snapped. He closed the distance, claiming her lips like some birthright. She tasted like everything he’d ever envisioned.Sweet, and tortuously innocent. A small sigh left her lips when he reached for the back of her hair, bunching it up while he kissed her fervently.His lips slid over her lips, silently begging for access into her mouth. She obliged, parting it just enough for him to slid his tongue into her mouth.She tasted heavenly.He pulled back for a small pause, hurrying over to shut the door, before pulling her in by the waist again.“Gigi,” he said breathlessly. “I can’t promise not to go too hard. You have no idea how much I’ve been holding back.”Her lips curved up a little. “Who says I want you to hold back?”“Naughty, aren’t we?” He couldn’t hold back his grin. “Be care

Stop thinking about him.It sounded easy enough when Gigi mentally repeated it to herself. Roman brought trouble, and she was very sure it wouldn’t be the good kind.“And I was thinking we could stock up on that cranberry juice you like,” Her mother’s voice filtered into her ears. They were in the kitchen, taking stock of how much groceries they had left and what they’d have to get on their next trip to the store.She hummed. “Yeah. Let’s do that.”“We’ll definitely need to get some more meat too,” Her mother continued. “Your step-dad loves his meat after all.”Another absentminded hum left her again. In all honesty, she wasn’t so interested in the conversation. Some homework laid spread out before her, most of them belonging to Farah, Reese and the other girls.Seriously, the life of being their lackey was something she’d gotten tired of.There was a small pause before her mother spoke again. “Is everything okay, baby?”“What do you mean?”Her mother regarded her for a couple more s

That night had been lots of things for Roman, and one word to simplify it all was enraging. It had been all sorts of wrong from the moment he’d seen that guy with Gigi.The bullshit attempt at flirting with her. The little shit had done it on purpose. And Gigi. Sweet little Gigi had been ignoring him ever since the night they had.It infuriated him to no end that he was so bothered by it.“You’d think he’d actually pay us a little attention now that he’s here.”He dared to spare a glance at Lizzy. Lizzy was what one would describe as hot. With her long lashes and red lips that practically begged for attention. She was hot. Hot enough to have anyone’s dick throbbing that the thought of how good she could moan their name.But she wasn’t what he wanted now.His thoughts were occupied by far better things. Specifically, thoughts of a particular brunette that threatened to run him mad.“He’s doing it again.” Lizzy huffed. “You see the way he just looked at me?”“Hey, hey,”His bud, Zane,

ISABELBloomberg Television's studio is exactly what I expected.Sleek, professional, and the kind of space designed to communicate serious business journalism rather than entertainment. Every surface says ‘we deal in facts here’ and means it.We arrived together, all four of us.Ares in a perfectly fitted charcoal suit, his green eyes warm and steady despite the weight of what we're walking into.Marco in dark navy, his grey eyes giving nothing away, every line of him composed.Harvey in black, his ice-blue eyes doing what they always do, observing everything, revealing nothing, and me, dressed in a deep burgundy dress. Hair down, no attempt to look smaller or more palatable than I am.The producer meets us at the entrance. His professional composure flickers very briefly when he registers all four of us walking in as a unit, then recovers with practiced smoothness."Ms. Queens. Gentlemen. Thank you for coming in."The anchor is Katherine Webb, mid-fifties, sharp as a scalpel, the ki

ISABELWe work through the night. By midnight, my kitchen table has transformed into a war room.Laptops open, phones face up. Legal pads covered in Marco's precise handwriting and Ares's more chaotic notes.Harvey sits apart from the others, not disconnected, just processing differently. He has three separate browser tabs open and hasn't said much in the last hour, which means he's thinking harder than anyone in the room."We need to respond," Marco says after what seems like an infinite silence, his voice controlled but carrying the edge of someone who has been managing his anger for several hours. "Staying silent reads as either guilt or weakness. Neither is acceptable.""Agreed," I say. "But the how matters. A written statement feels defensive like we're explaining ourselves, justifying ourselves and feeling damn guilty about our relationship.""Which is exactly what they want," Ares says. He's been monitoring social media commentary since the article dropped, his expression cycli

ISABELI see it at 6:47 AM.My phone buzzes with a Business Insider notification, I follow them for market news, for legitimate business updates, for nothing like this.The headline fills my screen.*QUEENS CEO CANDIDATE IN CONTROVERSIAL RELATIONSHIP WITH ALL THREE BDS PARTNERSHIP FOUNDERS*I sit up in bed.Read it again.Then I open the full article and read every word with the particular focused calm that descends when something catastrophic happens and panic would be a luxury you can't afford.The photographs come first.Me and Ares outside the West Village restaurant, his hand at my jaw, the kiss that felt private and is now very publicly documented.Me leaving Marco's building at dawn in his sweater, carrying my shoes, looking exactly like what I was.Harvey and I at the private beach, hands linked, his head bent toward mine.All four of us entering my apartment building together at 9 PM, the timestamp visible in the corner.Then the text.Sources close to Queens Enterprises conf

ISABELIt starts with a feeling, the particular prickling awareness of being observed that I've learned to recognize over the past months but this is different from Harvey's surveillance.Harvey's watching always felt like possession, dark and consuming but fundamentally protective. Like something circling to keep other things away.This feels like something circling to get closer. I noticed it first on a Tuesday morning.Walking to Blue Bottle for coffee, the familiar route I've taken dozens of times, I noticed a car parked on the opposite side of the street. A dark sedan, engine off, and nobody visible through the tinted windows.I notice it because it's there when I go in and still there when I come out fifteen minutes later.I tell myself it's nothing.Wednesday, the same car. Different street, same general vicinity of my office building.Friday, outside my gym.Three times in one week.I take a photograph on Friday. Discreetly. Just the car, no plates visible from my angle.The u

LEOThe motel room smells like mildew and cheap whiskey.I've been here for three weeks or probably four. Time has lost its shape since everything collapsed, rather, since Isabel destroyed everything.I stare at the ceiling in the dark, the television muted on a news channel, and think about how different my life was eighteen months ago.The penthouse, the company, the respect, and the obedient wife who smiled at the right events, never asked inconvenient questions and made me look exactly like the man I wanted to be seen as. All of it is gone.The embezzlement charges came first, and yes, I took money that wasn't technically mine, but I built that company. I deserved compensation the board wasn't willing to give.Then the trial, the conviction, and the suspended sentence that felt like a leash rather than mercy, then the complete social annihilation.My friends who stopped calling, business contacts who stopped returning emails. The penthouse was sold to cover legal fees, and the com

CANDICEThe envelope arrives on a Tuesday.It is thick, heavy, heavy, and in it is the satisfying weight of ammunition.My private investigator is thorough, I pay enough to ensure that, and the contents spread across my home office desk like everything I've been waiting for.The photographs, printed in high resolution, and timestamped.I go through them slowly. The first is Isabel and Ares Blackville outside a restaurant in the West Village, her face turned up to his, his hand at her jaw, their mouths meeting in an unhurried kiss that leaves absolutely nothing ambiguous.Timestamp: 10:47 PM. A Monday.The second makes my jaw tighten.Isabel leaves Marco De Santos's building at dawn light. Her hair slightly messed, wearing what's clearly his sweater, carrying her own shoes in one hand.Timestamp: 6:23 AM. A Saturday.The third is the one that makes me set down my wine glass. It is a private beach, and in the picture is Isabel and Harvey Smith. The fucking cold, hostile, barely-speaks-i