Page 93 of Haunted

Her next clench is so intense it nearly pushes me over the edge. I can feel how soaked she is; her pussy is literally weeping over my cock, creating a wet spot not only on my pants but also on the chair beneath us. Her state of arousal has made taking all of me even easier despite the public setting. The combination of voyeurism and exhibitionism is clearly her weakness—one I plan to exploit thoroughly.

36

MIRA

When the servers finally clear the untouched plates, I exhale in relief. Most of the invited guests never even pretended to eat, too engrossed in the vulgarity unfolding before them.

One woman, formerly so dignified, abandoned all pretense of propriety, her hand disappearing beneath her designer dress as she watched the scenes play out. A man nearby didn’t even try to hide his desires, stroking himself openly. At the same time, his eyes feasted on the display of male submission.

I glanced over as one man came first, his face flushed red with shameful pleasure at witnessing the very person he’d once prosecuted being utterly dominated. The irony would be amusing if everything about this situation weren’t so forbidden.

Moments later, another guest lost their composure entirely, fingers moving between their legsas they reached their peak, mesmerized by the power dynamics at play. Even someone I’d always perceived as frigid couldn’t help but let out a soft moan as they touched themselves beneath the table.

But through it all, my eyes keep returning to Cora.

They passed her between them throughout the meal as if she were dessert to be shared. Dominic had her first, his hands rough as he positioned her on his lap. He passed her to Liam, who made her cry out from the brutality. Finally, Ryder, who was surprisingly gentle but no less thorough, made her ride him.

By the final course, my vibrant, rebellious best friend looked utterly shattered. Her eyes are glassy and unfocused as if she’s retreated somewhere deep inside herself to survive this.

I want to save her from this nightmare. Still, Xavier’s cock is buried deep inside me, reminding me that my situation is as helpless.

Across the table, Cora’s stepmother watches the destruction of her stepdaughter with cold detachment. Eleanor Pike never liked Cora—saw her as competition for the mayor’s affection and a reminder of his first marriage. Now, she observes Cora’s systematic degradation with the same expression she’d wear watching a mildly interesting documentary.

No maternal instinct. No protective fury. Simply frigid calculation, probably already pondering how this scandal might benefit her.

That woman disgusts me more than the men actively participating in this depravity.

Xavier’s voice cuts through the debauched atmosphere like a blade. “Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for joining us this evening. The public portion of our celebration has concluded.”

The guests straighten in their chairs, some still breathing heavily from their voyeuristic indulgences. Mrs. Patterson clears her throat while Councilman Torres hastily adjusts his pants.

“What follows is a private ritual reserved only for those who participated directly in the Hunt,” Xavier continues, his tone brooking no argument. “We ask that you respect this tradition and allow us to proceed without observers.”

The guests follow a waiter slowly, some still adjusting their clothing, others casting longing glances back at the erotic scene they’re being forced to abandon.

Mrs. Patterson lingers near the door, her eyes drinking in one last look at Julian’s satisfied expression as Elliot remains impaled on his lap. Councilman Torres practically stumbles out, his legs unsteady from his earlier climax.

Within minutes, the dining hall empties of all observers, leaving only the fourteen hunters and their prey. The atmosphere shifts immediately—no longer a performance for the corrupt elite of Ravenwood.

Xavier’s hand slides possessively over my hip as he addresses the room. “The traditional claiming period begins now. You have until dawn to decide if you wish to keep your prey for the full year, as outlined in our contracts.”

My blood turns to ice. A full year.

Somehow, I’d forgotten that caveat.

“For those sharing prey,” his gaze flicks meaningfully toward Cora and her three captors, “you may choose to claim your prey together or individually. The decision is yours alone. Be mindful, however— if you choose to do it individually, it will afford each of you four months with her culminating in twelve months.”

I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to process what this means. Seventy-two hours of this hell were already more than I could handle. A year would decimate my entire life.

With all of that being said, there is still a twisted part of me that makes me hate myself—that ignites a flutter of anticipation in my chest. The idea that this is only a three-day game, that Xavier might walk away tomorrow and forget I exist, makes my stomach churn. How would I feel if that were to happen? I’m not sure I can even answer that for myself, but it suddenly makes my heart sink.

I’ve spent my entire adult life maintaining independence and never letting anyone get close enough to matter. Now, this dangerous, calculating man has torn through every defense I’ve constructed; the thought of him discarding me feels like I’m drowning, like I’m being dragged under and held there just below the waterline, unable to reach the surface without him.

Around the room, the other hunters murmur among themselves, weighing their options. Dominic’s handtangles in Cora’s hair as he exchanges meaningful looks with Liam and Ryder. The Dexter twins don’t even hesitate—they’re already whispering possessive promises to Keira about the year ahead.

But Xavier remains silent, tracing lazy patterns on my bare skin. I can’t see his expression with him behind me, can’t tell if he’s considering staking his claim on me or calculating the most efficient way to dispose of me now that the Hunt has ended.

The uncertainty is killing me.

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