Page 92 of Haunted

The guests’ reactions vary wildly across the spectrum of human depravity and prejudice. Mrs. Hartwell and her circle lean forward with blatant hunger, their eyes drinking in every detail of the women’s degradation like touring a lavish garden in spring, not wanting to miss a single moment of abasement. They give a whole new meaning to the ‘He loves me, He loves me not’ game they likely all played as children, watching as each flower is torn apart one petal at a time. They whisper among themselves, pointing at the way Cora’s body betrays her with unmistakable arousal despite her tears, as her eyes are now fixed on how Bianca’s fingers now clutch desperately at the table.

“Magnificent display,” murmurs Councilman Reed, his gaze lingering on Lia as Vane forces her to take another sip of wine. “Such complete submission.”

The women observers seem particularly enthralled by the power dynamics at play. They watch with fascination as Sadie squirms on Landon’s lap, noting every gasp and whimper like they’re analyzing a particularly complex piece of theater.

But their expressions shift dramatically when their attention turns to Elliot.

His mask lies discarded on the white tablecloth beside his untouched plate, revealing the flushed face of Ravenwood’s most prominent g. The silk shirt Julian dressed him in barely covers his thighs, leaving nothing to the imagination. His arousal is painfully obviousabove the table’s edge, his cock hard and leaking precum that glistens in the candlelight.

Several guests visibly recoil. Mrs. Patterson actually covers her mouth with her napkin as if the sight might contaminate her. Councilman Morrison’s face twists with revulsion, and he turns his chair slightly away from the display.

“Disgusting,” someone whispers, not quite quietly enough.

The contrast couldn’t be starker. These same people who find arousal in watching women be degraded react with moral outrage at seeing a man in the same position. They can stomach violence against women and can even find entertainment in it, yet balk at this—a successful art dealer riding Julian’s cock. At the same time, Theo’s watch shatters their conventional assertions about power and masculinity.

Julian seems to relish their discomfort. He grips Elliot’s hips more firmly, encouraging him to move with deliberate slowness, making their coupling impossible to ignore. Every rise and fall of Elliot draws fresh murmurs of disgust from the more conservative observers.

“Some people have such narrow minds,” Julian says conversationally, his voice carrying across the dining hall as he addresses the room at large while buried inside Elliot.

The hypocrisy is delicious. They can watch women be dominated, even used under dubious consent, without batting an eye, but put a powerful man in thesame position, and suddenly, they’ve found their moral compass.

But not everyone shares their disgust.

I notice Ms. Chen, the younger city attorney, leaning forward in her chair with obvious fascination. Her pupils are dilated, lips slightly parted as she watches Elliot ride Julian’s dick. She shifts in her seat, thighs pressing together, leaving no room for doubt when it comes to her level of arousal.

Beside her, the mayor’s wife—Cora’s stepmother, who stayed despite her husband’s dramatic exit—can’t seem to look away from the display. Her breathing has quickened noticeably, and she keeps touching her throat, her fingers tracing the line of her pearl necklace, paying attention to their every movement.

Even more surprising are the men showing interest. Councilman Torres, typically the most conservative voice on the city council, stares at Julian’s cock disappearing into Elliot’s ass with evident hunger. His own hand rests on his thigh, fingers flexing rhythmically.

District Attorney Bateman adjusts himself in a manner he deems discreet under the table, even as his eyes track every bob of Elliot’s hard and leaking cock beneath the glass tabletop.

Mrs. Hartwell fans herself dramatically. “In my day, men knew their place.”

“Perhaps their place is exactly where we’re seeing it,” Ms. Chen counters, never taking her eyes off the men.

The tension between these two factions adds another layer of electricity to an already charged atmosphere.

Mira shifts on my lap, and I realize she’s observing the same split I am, watching how differently people react to seeing their gender assumptions challenged.

I lean forward, my lips brushing against Mira’s ear.

“How does your pussy feel after grinding onto me? You find it as interesting as I do, the split between the way certain views change based on dynamics. Tell me,” I whisper, my breath hot against her skin, “do you like watching Elliot riding a cock?”

The words are barely audible, meant only for her, but I feel her immediate response. Her pussy clenches around my cock so tightly I have to bite back a groan.

“You do, don’t you?” I continue. “My dirty little voyeur.”

Another involuntary squeeze, her inner walls fluttering around me as she watches Julian grip Elliot’s hips harder, forcing him to take more. His head falls back with his mouth open in a silent cry of pleasure.

Mira’s breathing quickens as she struggles between watching the display and maintaining some semblance of composure. But her reactions tell me everything I need to know—the way she unconsciously rocks against me, how her thighs tremble when the hunter next to Julian and Elliot, Theo, captures Elliot’s mouth in a bruising kiss.

“You like being watched too,” I murmur, my hand sliding up her spine beneath the silk. “Getting off while an audience sees exactly how desperate you are for my cock.”

Her response is immediate. She clenches so hardaround me that I have to grip her hip to keep from thrusting up into her right there at the dinner table. The sensation sends heat racing through my veins, my own arousal spiking at her obvious excitement.

Around us, the divide in reactions continues to play out. Mrs. Patterson makes disgusted noises while Ms. Chen practically moans at the sight of two men fucking. But I’m focused entirely on the woman in my arms and her response to both watching and being watched.

“Such a perfect little exhibitionist,” I breathe against her ear, feeling how she shivers at the words. “Getting wet from watching them while knowing everyone here can see you sitting on my cock.”

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