I curl my fingers to brush against his prostate. His reaction is immediate—a full-body shudder as a moan escapes his throat. It’s the most beautiful sound I’ve ever heard.
“Julian—” he chokes out, his cock jerking as pre-cum beads at the tip.
“Should I stop?” I tease, knowing the answer.
“Don’t you dare,” he growls, pushing back against my hand.
I thrust deeper, maintaining steady pressure against that sensitive spot inside him. His breathing grows ragged, his legs trembling with the effort to remain standing.
“Come for me,” I command, my free hand reaching around to grip his cock.
One stroke is all it takes. Elliot cries out, his release painting the marble floor as his body clenches rhythmically around my fingers.
“Such a good boy for me,” I murmur, cleaning my hands in the nearby basin. Once he’s recovered, I turn my attention to dressing him.
“Arms out,” I instruct, reaching for the garment I’ve selected. Not the traditional dress prey would wear, but a black silk dress shirt that will frame his body perfectly. I slide it up his arms, letting the cool fabric brush against his skin.
I fasten only the middle buttons, leaving his chest and lower body exposed. The shirt hangs just low enough to tease at what lies beneath without offering any real coverage.
Stepping back, I circle him slowly. The black fabric creates a striking contrast against his skin, highlighting the lean muscles of his thighs and the perfect curve of his ass. The partial buttoning reveals glimpses of his chest and stomach with each breath he takes.
“You’re fucking beautiful,” I tell him, my voice dropping lower. “Perfection personified.”
His cock twitches at my words, a bead of precum forming at the tip. The physical response is immediate and undeniable—his body can’t lie even if he wanted to.
“Do you like being my beautiful boy?” I ask, stepping closer.
Elliot hesitates only briefly before nodding, his eyes meeting mine with newfound confidence. The shame that once clouded his features has receded, replaced by desire, acceptance, and surrender.
I capture his mouth in a possessive kiss, my hands sliding beneath the shirt to grip his ass.
“Come on, baby,” I whisper against his lips as I pull back. “Time to show that glorious cock off while bouncing on mine.”
I guide Elliot through the ornate double doors into the feast room, my hand possessively at the small of his back. The massive glass table stretches the length of the room, already half-filled with hunters who failed to claim their prey. Their expressionsshift from boredom to shock as we enter—Elliot Chambers, art dealer and hunter, now entering as my claimed prize.
“Quite the entrance we’re making,” I murmur close to his ear, feeling him tremble slightly against my palm. “Everyone’s watching you, baby.”
I spot Theo already seated, a knowing smirk playing on his lips as he catches my eye. Perfect. Having him there will only heighten Elliot’s arousal. I guide us toward the empty chair beside him, deliberately slowing our pace to allow every curious gaze to linger on Elliot’s exposed skin beneath the half-buttoned shirt.
When we reach our place, I take my seat next to Theo, keeping my hand on Elliot, who remains standing rather than taking the chair that would have been his next to me.
“You know how this works,” I say, loud enough for those nearby to hear. “You’ve sat in this chair before, haven’t you? But that’s not where you belong tonight.”
Elliot swallows hard but remains standing beside me, exactly as protocol dictates for claimed prey. His fingers twitch at his sides, clearly fighting the urge to cover his hard cock as the silk shirt shifts with his breathing.
“He cleans up nicely,” Theo comments, reaching out to brush his fingers against Elliot’s wrist. “Though I preferred him messier.”
I catch Theo’s hand, squeezing just tight enough to make my point. “You can look, but you may only touch him when I instruct.”
The room fills quickly as other hunters arrive with their prey. Each couple follows the same ritual—hunters seated, prey standing beside them, bodies adorned in suits and the same black dresses.
I keep my hand possessively on Elliot’s lower back as they enter, feeling the slight tremor running through him. Theanticipation in the room builds with each new arrival. Several hunters glance our way, eyebrows raising at the sight of a male hunter claimed as prey.
“They’re staring,” Elliot whispers.
I stroke his back. “Let them. They should see what they’re missing.”
A hush falls over the room as Xavier Blackwood enters, Mira Sullivan at his side. Xavier takes his seat at the head of the table with casual dominance, spreading his legs wide beneath his unbuttoned pants.
