Page 39 of Haunted (Blackwood Brothers #1)

MIRA

X avier’s hands are surprisingly gentle as he cleans me with soft cloths, wiping away the evidence of what happened.

I feel completely wrecked, like every nerve ending has been exposed.

The silk wrap he drapes around my shoulders barely covers anything, but the gesture feels almost tender after everything.

We settle onto one of the velvet loungers positioned around the chamber’s perimeter, Xavier pulling me against his chest. From this vantage point, I can see everything—every coupling, every display of dominance and submission playing out across the opulent space.

But my eyes keep drifting to the alcove where Cora writhes between three masked men.

I should look away. God knows I should give my best friend some privacy. The scene holds my attention captive, and I can’t turn away.

One man lies beneath her, his cock buried deep in her pussy while she rides him with abandon.

Behind her, another grips her hips as he thrusts into her ass, his movements synchronized with the man below.

The third kneels in front of her face, his hands tangled in her chestnut hair as she takes his length into her mouth.

They move together like a perfectly choreographed dance of desire, and despite everything—despite my guilt, despite my horror at bringing her into this—Cora isn’t fighting.

She isn’t struggling or protesting, meeting their thrusts, arching into their touch. Even from here, I can see the flush of arousal on her skin and hear the muffled sounds of pleasure she makes around the cock in her mouth.

Xavier’s voice cuts through my swirling thoughts, casual and curious rather than mocking.

“Do you think she’s enjoying it?”

I want to snap at him, to defend Cora’s honor, to insist that no one could enjoy being used like that. But the words stick in my throat because the evidence before my eyes tells a different story.

Cora’s movements become increasingly frantic and desperate. Her hips buck against the man beneath her while she pushes back against the one taking her from behind. The sounds she makes grow louder, more urgent until even the cock in her mouth can’t muffle them completely.

My chest tightens as a flurry of emotions tumbles through me: guilt, failure, the fear that I may have lost my best friend after this.

Will she ever forgive me? As I watch, those emotions ebb slowly until I am watching my best friend surrender so beautifully that it sends heat through my already overstimulated clit.

Xavier’s breath is hot against my ear. “Look at you getting wet from watching your best friend get fucked by three men at once.”

His words make my cheeks burn with shame. His fingers slip between my thighs, finding the evidence of my arousal.

“Christ, Mira.” His groan vibrates through his chest against my back. “You’re soaked.”

Before I can protest or try to explain away my reaction, Xavier’s hands grip my hips with firm authority.

He lifts me easily, positioning my slick entrance over his already hard cock.

I feel the thick head pressing against me, and then he’s sliding me down slowly, filling me inch by inch until I’m completely impaled on his length.

The stretch makes me gasp, my walls clenching around him as I adjust to his size. I expect him to start moving, to claim me again with the same intensity as before, but instead, he goes completely still.

His hands remain locked on my hips when I try to rock against him, holding me in place with unrelenting control.

“No.” His voice is firm and commanding. “Just sit there and warm my cock while you watch.”

I whimper, the need to move almost overwhelming. Being filled so completely while remaining motionless is exquisite torture. Every breath, every slight shift, makes me more aware of how deep he is inside me, how perfectly he stretches me .

“Xavier, please?—”

“I said watch.” His grip tightens, fingers digging into my skin. “Enjoy the show, sweetheart.”

My attention is forced back to Cora’s alcove, where her moans have grown even more desperate.

The man beneath her has his hands on her breasts, pinching her nipples as she bounces on his cock.

The one behind her has increased his pace, driving into her ass with powerful thrusts that make her cry out around the third man’s length.

Watching them while Xavier’s cock pulses inside me, completely still but so deeply embedded I can barely breathe, creates a maddening combination of voyeuristic arousal and frustration.

I’m trapped between satisfaction and need, forced to witness my friend’s complete surrender while experiencing my own.

My eyes drift from Cora’s alcove to another corner of the chamber, where movement catches my attention.

The twins have Keira positioned between them.

She straddles one twin while the other presses behind her, and somehow, they’ve both managed to fit themselves into her simultaneously. The stretch must be overwhelming.

Her flexibility allows her to accommodate them both, undulating between them like she’s performing intimate choreography. The sight is so erotic, so visually stunning, that heat pools low in my belly.

“Jesus,” I breathe, unable to look away from the twins’ movements.

Xavier follows my gaze, his chest rumbling with amusement against my back. “The Dexters always are creative.”

Keira’s moans rise above the ambient sounds of the chamber as both men thrust into her, their cocks rubbing against each other inside her stretched walls.

The friction must be incredible for all three of them.

Her hands grip the shoulders of the twin beneath her while she throws her head back in abandon.

My attention shifts again, drawn to another alcove where Landon has Sadie pressed against a marble pillar. Unlike the other displays of willing submission, Sadie’s body language suggests reluctance. Her hands push against Landon’s chest even as her hips tilt forward to meet his thrusts.

Landon’s fingers dig into her thighs as he holds her legs wrapped around his waist.

The sight of Landon taking what he wants despite her half-hearted resistance sends an unwelcome spike of arousal through me.

A darkness inside me responds to watching him claim her.

At best, with questionable consent—regardless of the NDA—as he uses her body’s physiological responses against her to take what he wants.

I don’t want to examine why that image makes me clench harder around Xavier’s motionless cock. I don’t want to explore the part of me that finds beauty in that struggle between mind and body.

My pussy reacts anyway, growing wetter despite my attempts to suppress the shameful response.

Xavier’s breath is hot against my ear as he observes my reactions, his voice a dark rumble that vibrates against my back.

“You’re so fucking dirty, aren’t you?”

His words make me flush with shame, but I can’t deny the truth in them.

“Look at you getting wet watching Sadie fight against it.” His grip on my hips tightens, keeping me motionless on his cock. “You like seeing her struggle against her own desire. You like watching Landon break down her resistance.”

I want to protest, to deny his assessment, but the evidence of my arousal is irrefutable. I’m practically dripping around his shaft.

“It’s because you recognize yourself in her,” Xavier continues, his analysis cutting deep.

“You know what it’s like to want something you shouldn’t.

To have your body betray your conscience.

That’s exactly what happened to you, isn’t it?

You came here to expose me, but instead, you let me claim every hole. ”

I hate that he can read me so easily, that he understands the twisted psychology behind my arousal.

“And over there,” Xavier directs my attention to another corner of the chamber, “we have an even more interesting dynamic.”

I follow his gaze to where Julian, Elliot, and the other hunters are positioned in an intricate tangle of limbs.

The other hunter is on his hands and knees, his dark hair falling across his face as Elliot drives into him from behind.

But Elliot isn’t in control—Julian has his cock buried deep in Elliot’s ass, creating a chain of dominance and submission.

The sight is breathtakingly erotic. Three beautiful men move together, their bodies gleaming with sweat in the ambient lighting. The man’s muscles flex as he braces himself against Elliot’s thrusts. At the same time, Elliot’s own movements are dictated by Julian’s powerful drives into his ass.

What captures my attention most is the possessiveness radiating from Julian. His hands grip Elliot’s hips like he owns them, his fingers digging into pale skin hard enough to leave bruises.

Julian’s brutal—every thrust is designed to drive Elliot deeper into Theo while simultaneously claiming him completely. The way he holds Elliot speaks of ownership.

“Julian doesn’t share well,” Xavier observes, amusement coloring his tone. “He’s making sure everyone in this room knows exactly who Elliot belongs to, even while he lets Elliot fuck Theo’s asshole.”

The masked man beneath Elliot—who I assume must be Theo—keeps turning his head to the side, his dark eyes finding someone across the chamber. Following his gaze, I spot Victor, the massive, tattooed hunter who had been stroking himself while watching Xavier claim me earlier.

Victor stands near one of the marble columns, his arms crossed over his broad chest, muscles tense beneath all that ink.

His face is flushed, jaw clenched tight as he watches Theo get fucked by Elliot, who’s simultaneously being dominated by Julian.

There’s an intense visceral response in Victor’s expression—possessive irritation mixed with what looks like barely restrained hunger.