god father obsession

red temptation

Chapter Seven: Red Temptation

I woke up breathless.

Sheets tangled. Skin damp. Thighs pressed tight together.

It was just a dream.

But it felt so real.

His hand cupped one breast while his mouth teased the other. He planted soft kisses all over my neck, my p***y aching for his touch. His lips locked with mine in a hungry, passionate kiss. My p***y dripped with need as he whispered in my ear, “Do you like it, princess?”

“Yes, daddy. I want more.”

He kissed me again, trailing soft kisses down my body until he reached my aching p***y. His eyes locked with mine.

“I want to taste you, baby girl.”

I sat up quickly, heart hammering. My fingers trembled as I touched my lips. Shame flooded through me.

I had dreamt of Xavier.

Of him touching me in ways no man ever had. And I liked it.

Tonight was the celebration party for my mother and Raymond’s marriage. Staff ran up and down the halls all day, prepping the garden, decorating the ballroom. I tried to focus on anything but that dream. On anything but him.

But the moment I put on the dress, I knew I had made a mistake.

It was red.

Backless.

Tight in all the right places. The silky fabric hugged every curve. I’d picked it because it made me feel bold. Untouchable. Beautiful.

But walking down the stairs and seeing his eyes on me?

It was like setting fire to gasoline.

Xavier stood near the bar, suited up in black, jaw tight, whiskey glass in hand. The moment his eyes landed on me, his expression changed.

Frozen. Burning.

I walked past him slowly, pretending I didn’t see the way his gaze followed every inch of my body. Other guests stared too. Men’s heads turned. A few offered compliments, their eyes lingering.

But his stare? It was lethal.

Later, as I stood near the garden, a tall guy with a charming grin walked up.

“You look… incredible,” he said. “May I have this dance?”

I barely had time to answer.

A strong hand gripped my waist from behind.

“She’s not available,” Xavier’s voice cut in—low, hard, possessive.

The guy raised a brow. “I didn’t realize—”

“You do now,” Xavier growled.

The guy backed off quickly, disappearing into the crowd. I turned to Xavier, pulse racing.

“You can’t do that,” I snapped. “You don’t get to—”

“You wore that dress,” he interrupted, voice sharp with tension. “You knew exactly what you were doing.”

“And what’s that?” I shot back, challenging him.

He stepped closer, eyes blazing. “You wanted attention.”

“Maybe I wanted yours,” I whispered, voice trembling with heat.

His breath caught. His jaw clenched. For a moment, everything paused.

Then he leaned in, lips near my ear.

“You don’t know what you’re asking for.”

My skin broke out in goosebumps. I turned, about to walk away—but his hand caught my wrist, holding me there, possessive and slow.

“You keep tempting me like this…” he warned, eyes roaming down my exposed back, “and I’ll stop pretending to be a gentleman.”

My breath hitched.

And for the second night in a row, I walked away—before he broke me, or before I fell to my knees and begged him to.

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