Incest Mom tricked by Bully (Mask of Desire)

[Steel]

"Actually... my shoulders are killing me," she lied, turning, and she met his gaze, daring him.

"Can you... massage them, Ishaan?"

He raised a brow, smirking. "Massage? Anything for you, aunty, those shoulders need a hard grip," he said, voice low, stepping behind her, his hands settled, firm, kneading slow, and her breath hitched, a soft "Ohh" slipping free.

His fingers dug in, rough, confident, like in the bus, but the doubt still lingered.

"Feel good?" he murmured, his breath on her neck.

She nodded, shaky, "Yeah... good", her trap tightening, stirring the tea.

Abhi bounded in, "Chai ready, Maa?", and she jolted, stepping away, her saree snapping back.

"Almost, go sit, both of you," she snapped, normalcy a mask, and Ishaan grinned, unfazed.

"Thanks for the warm-up, aunty, chai's gonna taste even better now," he quipped, winking, and sauntered off with Abhi, his touch lingered on her skin.

"This isn't done yet," she hissed, pouring chai into cups.

She'd push harder, test deeper, her shame buried under a wild need to know, his flirt a tease she'd match. Her trap a game he might already own, two steps ahead in her own dark dance.

"I got this," she whispered, adjusting her saree, her blouse tight, nipples faintly outlined, and her heart raced, a cocktail of dread and thrill pulsing through her veins, hungry for proof.

Madhuri carried the tray of steaming chai cups into the living room, approached Abhi and Ishaan sprawled on the couch. She handed Abhi his cup first, then turned to Ishaan.