Incest Mom tricked by Bully (Mask of Desire)

[Steel]

Madhuri : “Wait.. he's just helping, Abhi, I called him,” she said weakly, her eyes never leaving Ishaan.

Abhi doubtfully returned them, leaned on the wall next to the table, his face shadowed with envy for Ishaan, his gaze drifting to the drawer, wardrobe and the curtains, evoking memories of his dread and fear.

Among the letters was a wedding card, its gold embossing catching the light. 

Ishaan : “Requesting the pleasure of your presence to grace the wedding of Sumit and Nisha,” he read out loud.

Madhuri : “Oh wait, I need to call them,” Madhuri said, her voice unsteady. “My phone… Oh.. it's in my pocket.” Her thighs shifted, revealing the curve of her hip.

Ishaan grinned as he reached into the pocket of her pajamas, his fingers grazing her thigh, pausing where he expected her panty but found only skin. The absence of inners hit him like a spark, and her own excitement flared at his teasing smile.

Abhi’s face flushed with jealousy, as Ishaan casually explored the pocket. 

Madhuri : “Oops, wrong side,” Ishaan smirked at her and reached into the other pocket.

He pulled out the phone, glancing at its screen, a provocative wallpaper, a curvy woman’s silhouette, adorned with demon horns, wearing a blindfold, striking a seductive pose, possibly nude, clutching handcuffs.

Ishaan : “Fascinating art, Aunty. Curious who the artist is,” he teased, his voice low as he dialed the number.

He gripped the phone, holding it right beside her ear and stepped closer.

His free hand massaging her shoulder, his touch firm yet sensual. Madhuri’s bound hands made her clumsy as she took the phone, her body trembling under his control.

Their eyes locked through the mirror, his gaze piercing through her with unspoken intent. She tried to play it cool, talking nonchalantly on the phone with her cousin.

Madhuri : “Nisha, congratulations! I’m so thrilled for you,” she said, her tone warm and festive. “I’ve started applying mehendi already, can’t wait to see you at the wedding!” Her lips curved into a smile.

Meanwhile, Ishaan’s hands slid lower, his fingers brushing below the collarbone under the guise of a gentle massage.