“Feel that?” I growl, grinding my hips in a slow circle that makes him gasp. “Your tight little ass is getting me hard again. I could come inside you one more time, fill that abused, fucked hole with another load.” I rock forward, savoring his whimper. “Would you like that? Want me to breed you again?”
My hand snakes around his waist, fingers wrapping around his cock. To my delight, I find him already stiffening in my grip.
“Well, look at this,” I purr, stroking him slowly. “Someone’s greedy for more.”
His cock hardens fully in my hand, betraying his desire despite whatever doubts might be surfacing in his mind.
“Seems like you’re just as insatiable as me,” I whisper, tightening my grip on his rapidly hardening cock.
Theo watches us with heavy-lidded eyes from where he’s now sprawled beside us, but my focus narrows to the man trembling in my arms.
I lean forward; my chest pressed against Elliot’s sweat-slicked back, and I brush my lips against the shell of his ear. My voice drops to a whisper, meant only for him despite our audience.
“After this Hunt, you will never hide again,” I breathe. “You will always be my cock slut, and I will never stop fucking this ass.”
The words slip out like a confession, a promise whispered like a secret between us. My grip tightens on his hips as I punctuate each statement with a slow, deliberate thrust.
Elliot moans, pushing back against me eagerly. His body speaks a truth his mind might still be fighting—how he was made to take me, how completely he surrenders to the pleasure only I can give him.
The power of his submission rushes through me like a drug. I pull him up against my chest, one hand splayed across his stomach while the other grips his throat—not squeezing, just holding him in place so he feels my complete control.
“I’m your king,” I growl against his ear, feeling him tremble against me, “and you will kneel for me always.”
His cock twitches in my hand at my declaration, hardening further despite having already come. The knowledge that my words affect him so deeply only fuels my desire to claim him more thoroughly.
17
ELLIOT
Ijolt awake, disoriented. The first thing I register is heat—a solid, muscular body pressed against my back, a hard cock nestled against my ass, and a strong arm wrapped possessively around my waist.
Julian.
The name sends a shiver of pleasure through me. A few days ago, I was still pretending, still hiding. Now my mask lies shattered somewhere in the maze’s corridors, and I can’t bring myself to regret it.
I shift, feeling Julian’s arm tighten around me in response. I wasn’t prepared for any of this—not for how completely I’d surrender, not for how desperately I’d crave his control, not for how addictive his dominance would become. Each command, each possessive touch, each whispered claim had stripped away decades of denial until all that remained was raw, honest need.
And now, lying here in the aftermath, I realize I’m not prepared for it to stop. The thought of returning to my carefully constructed life, of pretending Julian Frost never happened, creates a hollow ache in my chest that frightens me more than any of my previous fears.
Behind me, Julian stirs, his breath warm against my neck as he pulls me closer. His cock hardens further against me, and I instinctively press back against him, my body responding before my mind can catch up.
“Even in your sleep, your body knows who it belongs to,” Julian murmurs, his voice thick with sleep yet sharp with desire. His lips brush against my ear, sending shivers down my spine. “My beautiful boy who fought so hard only to surrender so sweetly.”
The words are filthy and tender all at once, making my heart race and my cock stir despite my exhaustion. In that moment, I knew I was completely ruined for anyone else.
The horn blares through the orgy room, a deep, resonant sound that slices through my post-orgasmic haze. I freeze against Julian’s body, knowing exactly what that signal means.
The Feast.
The culmination of the Hunt, where captors publicly claim their prey. Where the elite of Ravenwood Hollow gather to watch women be taken by their captors at one long, large dining table laden with food and wine.
The reality of the moment hits me like a freight train. The Hunt isn’t just about the chase—it culminates in a public display.
“We should get ready for the Feast,” I say, my voice hoarse from screaming Julian’s name. I sit up, wincing slightly at the unfamiliar soreness, getting off the couch in the orgy room. “I need to find my clothes.”
Julian rises behind me. He places his hands on my shoulders, squeezing gently.
“You will be bathed and prepared for the Feast,” he says. “As my prey.”
