god father obsession

testing limit

Chapter Eleven: Testing Limits

The house was silent when I slipped out of bed, feigning discomfort so real, even I almost believed it. My skin prickled in places Xavier shouldn’t know about. My breath came shallow and quick, every step filled with a quiet, calculated ache.

A desperate scratch here. A soft moan there. I let the sound carry through the hallway—just enough.

“Xavier…” I called softly, testing.

Minutes passed like hours.

Then I heard it—the steady, deliberate sound of his footsteps. Each one louder than the last. He was coming.

He paused just outside my door. I could feel him through the wood, the storm he carried pressed against it.

“I heard you,” he said, voice low—rough with concern… and something darker.

“Please,” I whispered, my voice trembling with need and something more dangerous: daring.

The door opened.

And there he was.

Dark eyes burning, jaw clenched, shoulders tight with restraint. Every inch of him radiated tension, like a man at war with himself.

He stepped inside and closed the door behind him. The click of the latch echoed like a secret.

“Show me,” he said quietly. His voice was thick—torn between duty and desire.

My heart thundered. Slowly, I lifted the hem of my gown, exposing the truth between my thighs—slick, aching, swollen with want.

I watched his eyes darken as they took me in. His hands hovered—so close, not touching. But the heat between us screamed louder than any words.

His gaze met mine, wild and hungry.

“I shouldn’t,” he said, voice breaking.

“Then don’t think,” I breathed. “Just feel.”

He swallowed hard, fingers brushing lightly along my inner thigh. The contact sent a shiver racing up my spine.

His touch was barely there—soft, trembling, forbidden. But it lit a fire deep inside me.

“I want you,” he whispered, hoarse with frustration. “God help me, I want you so much it hurts.”

I shifted closer, daring him. “Then take me.”

His lips parted. His breath hitched. The space between us pulsed with all the things we weren’t allowed to want.

“You don’t understand what this will do to us,” he rasped.

“But you feel it,” I said, eyes locked on his. “You feel me.”

His fingers moved again—slower this time, more deliberate—but then he froze. Every muscle in his body drew tight, trembling with the weight of restraint.

“I’m trying to be the man you deserve,” he said quietly, his voice unraveling. “Not the one who loses control the moment you call my name.”

I tilted my head, voice barely a whisper. “What if I want you to lose control?”

His eyes closed briefly, as if in pain. When they opened again, they burned.

“You’re driving me insane,” he murmured.

I smiled—soft, wicked. “Good.”

Then, slowly—too slowly—he pulled back. The tension between us snapped, but not completely.

“I have to go,” he said, almost like a plea.

I didn’t stop him. I didn’t beg.

But I watched the storm in his eyes as he turned, the air between us still crackling, full of everything left undone.

The door closed behind him.

But the night wasn’t over.

Not by a long shot.

--