Page 79 of Haunted

“Look at this perfect little hole,” he murmurs. “So tight.”

The three hunters move closer, their breathing heavy as they stroke themselves faster. I can feel their eyes burning into every inch of exposed flesh, cataloging every reaction as Xavier’s thumb presses against my asshole.

“Have you ever been fucked here?” Xavier asks.

“No,” I whisper. “Never.”

Xavier’s other hand disappears, and I hear the wet sounds of him coating his fingers with my arousal. When his slick finger replaces his thumb, pressing slowly inside me, I cry out at the foreign sensation.

“Relax,” he commands. “Let me open you up properly.”

The stretch burns, but underneath the discomfort is a dark wave of pleasure that makes me push back. One finger becomes two, opening me carefully as I pant for air.

“Such a good girl,” Xavier praises, his fingers working me open patiently. “Taking my fingers so well. You’re going to look so beautiful stretched around my cock.”

The hunter with the curved cock steps closer, his breathing ragged. “She’s getting wetter from your fingers in her ass.”

He’s right. I can feel fresh arousal dripping down my inner thighs as Xavier adds a third finger, the stretch intense but manageable now. My body is betraying every principle I thought I possessed, responding to this depravity with enthusiasm that terrifies me.

What the hell has happened to me?

31

XAVIER

My fingers stretch open Mira’s ass, feeling her muscles relax around the intrusion as she whimpers beneath me. The sound goes straight to my cock, which throbs with the need to replace my fingers and claim this final part of her.

But the three hunters circling us like vultures make my jaw clench with possessive fury.

Jenson stands closest, his usually composed demeanor cracking as he strokes himself. My spymaster’s sharp intelligence is focused entirely on Mira, cataloging every reaction.

Marcus maintains his military bearing even naked, his scarred chest rising and falling with controlled breaths as his fist works his length. His dark eyes miss nothing—the way Mira arches when I scissor my fingers, how her thighs tremble when I press deeper.

Victor looms behind them both, his massive framecasting shadows across Mira’s pale skin. Tattoos ripple across his muscles as he fists his cock. Still, despite his intimidating presence, I know he understands the boundaries.

They all do.

One word from me, and they’d disappear without question. The power dynamics here are crystal clear—I’m a Blackwood, and they know exactly where they stand in our hierarchy. But the way Mira responds to their attention, the fresh arousal pooling between her thighs, knowing they’re watching her most intimate moments...

I can’t deny her this.

“You love having them watch you,” I murmur against her ear, adding a fourth finger to stretch her wider. “My little exhibitionist gets so wet knowing three dangerous men are stroking their cocks while I open up your virgin ass.”

Mira’s answering moan vibrates through her. “Yes,” she gasps, rocking gently. “I love it. I love knowing they want me but can’t have me.”

That last part makes satisfaction surge through my chest. She understands exactly who she belongs to, even in the throes of pleasure.

“That’s right,” I growl, my fingers working deeper. “They can look, but only I get to touch. Only I get to fuck this perfect little hole.”

Jenson’s breathing quickens, his usually pale complexion flushed with arousal. “She’s taking yourfingers so well,” he observes, his voice strained. “Look how her body opens for you.”

Mira’s arousal coats my fingers as I withdraw them slowly. I’ve never seen a woman’s pussy get so fucking wet—her arousal is literally dripping onto the marble floor below her, creating a small puddle that catches the candlelight.

“Christ, look at you,” I breathe, running my clean hand down her spine as she trembles beneath me. “You’re soaked. Your body is begging for this.”

I trail kisses along her spine, tasting salt and silk as my lips map the curve of her back. Each press of my mouth draws another soft whimper from her throat, and I can feel the tension melting from her muscles with every caress.

The three hunters watch with rapt attention, their breathing harsh in the intimate space we’ve carved out in this den of debauchery. But they know their place—observers only, witnesses to my claiming of this extraordinary woman.