Page 38 of Haunted (Blackwood Brothers #1)
I can feel myself getting close, my rhythm becoming more punishing as I chase my release. Mira’s ass grips me like a vise with each withdrawal, only to welcome me back in with shocking ease when I drive forward again.
“Gonna fill this tight little hole,” I growl against her ear, my voice rough with approaching climax. “Mark you from the inside out so you’ll never forget who you belong to.”
My control is completely shattered now, every thrust driven by pure instinct as I fuck her with abandon.
My orgasm builds with devastating intensity, my hips slamming into Mira’s ass with brutal force as I chase my release. The tight heat of her cunt gripping my cock, combined with her broken moans and the three hunters stroking themselves while watching us, pushes me right to the fucking edge .
“Fuck, Mira,” I growl, my thrusts becoming erratic. “I’m gonna?—”
My climax hits like a freight train raging through my veins as I bury myself to the hilt inside her ass. My cock jerks and pulses as I spill deep inside her. Wave after wave of pleasure crashes over me.
“That’s it,” I pant against her ear, my hips moving in shallow thrusts as I ride out the aftershocks. “Take every drop. Feel me filling you up.”
Mira’s body trembles beneath me, her ass fluttering around my sensitive cock as I come down from the high. But I’m not done with this moment yet.
I want her to see exactly what she does to dangerous men.
“Jenson,” I command, my voice rough but authoritative. “Marcus. Victor. Come here.”
The three hunters step closer immediately, their cocks hard and leaking as they position themselves in front of Mira. She’s still on her hands and knees, putting her at the perfect height to witness their arousal up close.
“I want you to come for her,” I order, my cock still buried in her ass. “Show her what watching her get fucked does to you. But not a drop touches her skin.”
Understanding flashes in their eyes. They’re here to display their desire, not to claim any part of what’s mine.
Jenson steps forward first, his fist moving up and down his length frantically as his eyes lock on Mira’s flushed face. “Christ,” he breathes, his control finally snapping. “Look what your hot little display did to me.”
His cock jerks in his hand as he comes hard, thick ropes of cum shooting onto the marble floor a foot from the edge of the rug we’re on. He groans deeply, shuddering as he empties himself while staring at her.
Marcus follows immediately. “Fuck,” he growls, his cum joining Jenson’s on the floor. His dark eyes never leave Mira’s face as he strokes himself through the intense climax.
Victor’s massive frame trembles as he reaches his peak last, his deep voice rumbling as he spills himself onto the marble. The evidence of their desire pools on the ornate floor, a testament to how thoroughly Mira’s submission affected them.
“Look at that,” I murmur against Mira’s ear. “Look how hard they came from watching me claim you.”
My cock is still buried deep in Mira’s ass when I feel it—the telltale tremor that starts in her thighs and spreads through her entire body. Her muscles flutter around my shaft as her breathing becomes ragged, and I realize with dark satisfaction what’s happening.
She’s coming. Again. Simply from watching three men come while staring at her face.
“Fuck,” I breathe against her ear, feeling her body shake beneath me as the orgasm crashes over her. “You dirty little slut. You’re coming from watching them stroke their cocks for you.”
Her whimper is broken and breathless as the climax tears through her.
No touch, no stimulation—just the raw visual of their desire painting the marble floor while they groaned her name.
The knowledge that she can reach her peak from nothing but their voyeuristic worship sends fire racing through my veins.
“Christ, Mira,” I growl, my hands gripping her hips tighter as she trembles through the aftershocks. “You’re so fucking perfect. So beautifully dirty.”
This woman—this incredible, responsive creature—is everything I never knew I wanted. The way she embraces her own desires, how she doesn’t shy away from the darker edges of pleasure, incites a voracious roar in my chest.
She’s mine. Every trembling inch of her belongs to me.
I pull out of her slowly. But I’m not done—not even close. I need to taste her mouth, need to claim her lips while the evidence of what happened still coats the floor before us.
My hands grip her shoulders, turning her around while we’re both still on our knees. The movement is sudden but gentle, positioning her to face me on the rug. Her eyes are glazed with satisfaction, lips parted as she struggles to catch her breath.
“Look at me,” I command.
When her hazel eyes lock with mine, I see it all—her insatiable need, surrender, the shattering of every defense she swore she’d never let fall.
The relentless, brilliant woman who once looked at me like a puzzle to solve now kneels at my feet, breath shallow, skin flushed, pupils blown wide with need.
I thread my fingers into her hair, tightening enough to drag a gasp from her lips—and that sound? That’s the match to everything I’ve held back.
I kiss her mouth like a starving man devouring his first meal in weeks, the kiss hard, hungry, ruthless. She opens for me without hesitation, and I know—I’ve got her—every part of her.