Page 90 of Haunted

“You can’t—this is blackmail,” Mayor Pike sputters, but the fight is already draining out of him. Political survival instincts are kicking in, warring with the fury of a father enraged.

“This is business,” Xavier corrects smoothly. “And your daughter is experiencing the consequences of her own choices. Nothing more, nothing less.”

I watch as Mayor Pike’s shoulders slump slightly, the weight of his impossible position settling over him. Save his daughter and destroy his political career, or maintain his power while watching her get fucked by men he wronged to get where he is.

The other observers shift in their seats. Some whisper behind manicured hands, others simply watch with fascination.

Cora’s quiet sob pierces my thoughts, drawing my attention back to her tear-streaked face. She’s stopped struggling against Dominic’s hold, limp with defeat and humiliation.Her eyes are fixed on the table, and all her fight is drained, her mind retreating into whatever safety it can find away from this nightmare.

The tension in the room has become so thick that it’s suffocating. The well-dressed observers take their seats in the remaining chairs around the massive dining table. What I initially thought was meant to be an intimate dinner between the hunters and their prey has transformed into a public spectacle with front-row seats.

Mayor Pike takes the chair directly across from Dominic, his eyes never leaving his daughter’s face. The positioning feels deliberately cruel, forcing him to stare directly at Cora as she sits impaled on a man’s lap. At the same time, Liam and Ryder’s hands continue their unrelenting exploration.

Cora’s face has gone completely pale except for twin spots of humiliation burning high on her cheeks. She keeps trying to make herself smaller, her shoulders hunching forward as if she could somehow disappear entirely. Every few seconds, her gaze darts to her father’s face before skittering away in mortification, until she resettles her eyes on a fixed point and retreats inward.

A woman in diamonds leans toward her companion, whispering behind her hand while her eyes remain fixed on our table. A silver-haired man in an expensive suit adjusts his glasses for a better view, his expression coldly clinical.

I recognize a few more faces now that they’re seated closer—city council members, prominent business people, the kind of wealthy elite who move in the same circles as my editor’s contacts. People with real power and influence in Ravenwood all gathered to witness our utter defilement.

Xavier shifts beneath me, his hand sliding higher on my thigh as servers begin entering through side doors carrying silver trays. For those few moments, the guests’ attention turns to them. The normalcy of dinner service feels surreal, given that half the people at this table are literally impaled on the other half.

"Relax," Xavier murmurs against my ear, his voice a dark velvet promise only I can hear. "The real entertainment is beginning. For the remainder of this dinner, I want you to grind that perfect cunt on my cock. No speaking—the only sounds I want from those beautiful lips are those desperate little moans you make when you're close to breaking."

I swallow hard, my body responding instantly to his commands despite the audience surrounding us.

"Take me deeper," he continues, his fingers digging into my hips. "I want to feel myself against your cervix with every movement. And don't hold back—I know exactly how much you can take, how perfectly you were made to accommodate me."

I nod silently, heat flooding my cheeks as I adjust my position on his lap.

"Any questions before we begin?" His tone makes it clear he expects immediate compliance.

"What if it becomes too intense?" I whisper, my voice barely audible.

His laugh is low and dangerous. "Nothing I give you is ever too much, Mira. Satisfy me, and I'll flood this exquisite pussy repeatedly tonight. You'll be desperate, aching for release, but remember—your pleasure exists at my discretion. You come only when I allow it."

His fingers trace possessive patterns on my thigh. "If you need a moment to collect yourself, I'll signal with two taps here. But understand this, little journalist—every reaction, every tremor, every drop of arousal belongs to me now."

His mouth finds the sensitive junction between my neck and shoulder, pressing soft kisses that make me clench around him involuntarily. Without warning, his teeth sink into my flesh, the sharp pain drawing tears to my eyes. I fight the urge to cry out, instead letting the sensation wash through me in overwhelming waves.

A whimper escapes despite my efforts, drawing curious glances from around the table as I rock against him.

"Perfect," he breathes against the mark he's made. "You're mine now—body, mind, and soul. Some demands will hurt, others will please. Tell me you understand what's expected of you. Repeat your instructions so I know you comprehend your place."

I obey, reciting his edict for all in attendance. And so the torture begins.

If this is the beginning, what the hell comes next?

Butterflies tear at my insides, realizing the lengths he will go to assert his control over me. He shifts beneath me, forcing the last inch or two of him inside me. My breath hitches, the throbbing ache of need already bleeding through every cell. I bite my lip, brows furrowed, and whimper like a bitch in heat.

A server approaches our end of the table, obliviously calm, as if serving dinner to people actively engaged in sex is just any other day here. He sets down crystal glasses filled with what appears to be champagne, his movements efficient and utterly unperturbed by the obscene tableau before him.

The normalcy of it all makes it feel even more twisted.

35

XAVIER

The first course arrives—a delicate appetizer that costs more than most people make in a week. I cut a piece with my fork, bringing it to Mira’s lips while she sits with my cock buried hilt-deep inside her warmth, grinding her cunt on my dick like the good girl I know she can be with proper motivation.

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