Hot Mom's Desire

"Welcome to my palace, Elara!"

The marble floors of the main Vaughn estate felt ice-cold beneath Elara’s feet, despite the expensive stilettos she wore. The grandeur before her made her gasp in reluctant awe, though she knew this palace was nothing more than a golden cage. The blood-red silk gown clinging to her body felt like a second skin—one that was slowly suffocating her. Tonight was the wedding celebration of Maximilian Vaughn, the ruler of Vaughn Enterprises, and the "angel" who had saved him from despair following his tragic accident.

But for Elara Moretti, this was her own funeral.

"Don't be tense, darling," Maximilian whispered from his wheelchair. His voice was raspy, and his aging, weathered hand stroked Elara’s thigh, exposed by the high slit of her dress. "You are mine now. The most precious jewelry I have ever bought."

Elara swallowed hard, fighting the urge to shudder. Maximilian might be paralyzed from the waist down—his manhood rendered useless by the accident—but his gaze still held the power to destroy a life. She knew he couldn't touch her sexually, but Maximilian craved adoration. He wanted the world to see that even if he was broken, he could still possess the most beautiful woman in the room.

"Where is your son?" Elara asked softly, trying to divert his attention from the hand creeping across her skin. "Didn't you say you would introduce him to me?" Her tone remained cold; she hadn't fully accepted this union.

"Xavier? He’s always late. He’s busy managing the remnants of the empire I left for him," Maximilian answered with pride.

Elara’s breath hitched. Xavier? Why does that name sound so familiar? she thought.

At that exact moment, the doors to the grand hall swung open.

The boisterous party fell suddenly silent. A man stepped inside with an aura so dominant that the air around Elara seemed to vanish. He wore a black suit that hugged his powerful frame perfectly. His face was cold, his jawline sharp, and his eyes were a storm that Elara recognized all too well.

The champagne glass in Elara’s hand trembled.

"Xavier..."

Thump.

Her heart skipped a beat. The man Max referred to as Xavier was the man from her past.

How is this possible? Is this intentional?

She stared at him again. His gaze was piercing, and his thin smirk felt like a mockery. This wasn't the laughter-filled young man who had once loved her in the university library. The man standing before her was a monstrous version of the Xavier Vaughn she had abandoned five years ago.

Xavier walked straight toward them. Every step of his shoes on the marble floor sounded like a countdown to Elara’s destruction. He stopped right in front of his father, but his eyes were locked on Elara, stripping her bare with equal parts hatred and passion.

"Congratulations, Father," Xavier’s voice was low, vibrating in Elara’s chest. "I didn't realize your taste in choosing a stepmother for me was so... extraordinary."

Maximilian laughed, oblivious to the lethal electric current surging between his son and his wife. "Meet Elara, Xavier. My wife. Isn't she beautiful?"

Xavier reached out. Not to shake hands, but to take Elara’s hand and kiss the back of it. His lips felt hot against her skin, a painful contrast to the frost in his eyes.

"Pleased to meet you, Mommy," Xavier whispered, emphasizing the word with deep mockery.

As he pulled back, he leaned slightly toward her, close enough for his sharp, masculine scent to overwhelm her senses. "You look very expensive tonight, Elara. How much did my father pay to make you kneel at his feet?"

Elara’s blood ran cold. "Xavier, how is this possible?" she whispered, barely audible.

"Nothing is impossible, Mom. We’ve been reunited, haven't we? You walked right into your own hell," he hissed intimidatingly.

"Xavier, please..."

"Please what? Please don't tell Father that his 'saintly' wife used to moan beneath me every night?" Xavier smirked, his eyes dropping to the large diamond ring on her finger. "Enjoy your luxury while you can. Because in this house, I am the devil who will make sure you pay for every tear you made me shed five years ago."

Maximilian suddenly coughed, breaking the tension. He had no idea what his son was discussing with his wife; he simply assumed they were getting acquainted despite being the same age. "Xavier, escort my wife to the dining table. I have to greet a colleague from London for a moment. Don't let her feel lonely."

"With pleasure, Father," Xavier replied.

The moment Maximilian rolled away, Xavier gripped Elara’s arm roughly, dragging her behind a massive dark pillar in the corner of the hall.

"Let go! You're hurting me!" Elara struggled.

Instead, Xavier pinned her against the marble wall, his hard body locking her in place. He grabbed her chin, forcing her to look into his crazed eyes.

"Hurting? This is nothing compared to the pain of you leaving me," Xavier hissed. His free hand traveled to her waist, squeezing possessively. "This is nothing compared to your betrayal!"

Elara shook her head, her mind spinning. The world was too small. Of all the men, why did it have to be Xavier who was her stepson?

"Don't tell me this was all your plan, Xavier? You want revenge?" Elara asked, her fists clenched with emotion.

"What do you think? It's more than that. Not just revenge against you, but against my father as well," he said, leaving Elara confused.

He squeezed her cheeks, staring intensely. "My father might own you on paper, Elara. But we both know he can't do anything to you in bed."

Elara’s face flushed. "He is your father, Xavier! Respect him!"

Xavier laughed cynically. He pulled a phone from his pocket, showing a photo of Elara’s father tied up in a dark warehouse. "You want your father to keep breathing? Then you play my game."

Elara gasped, tears welling in her eyes. "Shit! So it is you?! What do you want?"

Xavier leaned in until their noses touched. His breath was heavy and demanding.

"I want you to be a good wife in front of my father. But when night falls, while he sleeps helpless in that wheelchair..." Xavier lowered his voice to a forbidden whisper. "...you will crawl to my room and beg for my forgiveness."

The sound of Maximilian’s footsteps approached again.

"Elara? Xavier? Where are you?"

Xavier didn't pull away immediately. Instead, he deliberately ran his hand down the exposed back of Elara’s dress, stroking her skin with an inappropriate caress before finally letting go with a triumphant smile.

"We’re here, Father," Xavier said calmly, while Elara stood trembling, her heart nearly stopping. "I was just giving your new wife a welcome she’ll never forget."

To be continued...