Page 108 of Haunted

My cheeks burn because of the danger, the exposure, the debased claim he’s making in broad daylight—it all feeds the dark hunger he awakened in me during the Hunt.

A car engine rumbles somewhere in the distance, growing closer. My heart hammers against my ribs, but instead of fear, heat floods my system.

“Xavier,” I whisper urgently. “Someone’s coming.”

“Let them watch.” His pace never falters, each stroke more devastating. “Let them see who owns this perfect cunt.”

The car passes without stopping, but the brief threat of discovery turns me on. My fingers grip the bike’s surface so hard my knuckles go white, needing a solid anchor as Xavier drives me toward the edge of sanity.

His hand slides around to find my clit, circling the sensitive bundle skillfully. The dual sensation—his thick length filling me while his fingers work their magic—has me gasping his name like a prayer.

“That’s it,” he groans. “Come for me right here,where anyone could see. Maybe next time I’ll have an audience in place for you. You like that, being watched while I use this perfect body, don’t you?”

The pressure builds inside me like a dam about to burst. Xavier’s fingers find my clit and circle while his thick length fills me completely, hitting that perfect spot with each thrust.

“Come for me,” he commands. “Let go, Mira.”

The combination of his words, his touch, and the intoxicating danger of our exposure shatters me into a million pieces. My orgasm tears through me with violent force, my pussy spasming around him as I cry out his name.

“Fuck, yes,” Xavier groans, his pace becoming erratic as my inner muscles clench around him. “You’re so perfect when you come on my cock.”

His hands grip my hips tight as he chases his own release, driving into me with desperate need. I feel him swell, growing impossibly harder before he buries himself deep and comes with a harsh groan.

The warmth of his release fills me, marking me as his as if I could forget the contract. He flattens his chest to my back, his breathing ragged against my neck as he pulses inside me, giving me every drop.

We remain like that for several heartbeats, both of us gasping for air. The midday sun beats down on my exposed skin, and I’m suddenly aware of how vulnerable we are in this empty lot.

Xavier’s hands are gentle as he slowly pulls out, making me whimper at the loss. His cum immediatelystarts to trickle down my thighs, and the feeling makes my cheeks burn with renewed heat.

Before I can reach for my jeans, he spins me around with firm hands, pulling me into his huge frame. His eyes burn with satisfaction as he takes in my flushed face and swollen lips.

“Mine,” he says simply, framing my face with his hands.

Then he kisses me deeply, possessively, his tongue sweeping into my mouth all over again. When he finally pulls away, his forehead rests against mine.

“My perfect little exhibitionist,” he murmurs, his thumb tracing my bottom lip. “You were made for me, weren’t you? Made to be taken by me wherever and however I want you.”

The truth of his words settles into my bones like a brand, and I embrace it, knowing that I am made for Xavier Blackwood, no matter how fucked up that is. He captured more than my physical form during the Hunt; he captured my very essence, and I don’t even want to break the chains he’s wrapped around me.

41

XAVIER

The sheets stick to my skin as I force myself to sit up, every muscle protesting the movement. Mira lies sprawled beside me, her dark hair fanned across the pillow like spilled ink. Her lips are swollen from my kisses, her throat marked with the evidence of my teeth. The sight of her like this—completely mine and exhausted—sends a fresh wave of satisfaction through me.

I’ve had her four times since we got to my penthouse. Against the wall by the door before we even made it to the bedroom. In the shower when she tried to clean up. Bent over the kitchen counter when she attempted to make coffee. And finally, in my bed, where I took her slow and deep until she screamed my name and collapsed against my chest.

My phone buzzes on the nightstand. Tyson’s name flashes across the screen, and reality crashes back into focus. The trade. I’d almost forgotten about the carnivalcrew coming tonight, too lost in the haze of finally having Mira back in my arms.

I slide out of bed as carefully as possible, but the mattress dips anyway. Mira stirs, her eyes fluttering open to track my movement across the room.

“Where are you going?” Her voice is hoarse from all the screaming she’s done today. The sound goes straight to my cock, which is already hardening despite all of the sex we’ve already had throughout the day.

“Business,” I say, pulling on my black pants. “Go back to sleep.”

She pushes herself up on her elbow, the sheet slipping down to reveal the curve of her breast. The sight makes my hands pause on my jacket zipper.

“What kind of business?”