A few moments later, the bathroom door inside his room opened. Bhola stepped out, still damp from the shower, wearing nothing but a small white towel wrapped low around his waist.
Simran’s breath caught in her throat.
He looked… breathtaking.
The towel was small, barely covering him, hanging dangerously low on his narrow hips. Water droplets still clung to his broad, muscular shoulders and chest, sliding slowly down the defined ridges of his abs. His arms were thick and powerful, veins standing out from the workout he did every morning. The V-line of his pelvis was sharp and prominent, disappearing teasingly under the towel. And between his legs… the towel did show the heavy outline of his massive cock clearly visible, hanging long and heavy even when soft, the head pressing against the fabric like it wanted to break free.
His skin was a warm, deep brown, still glistening with water, and the scent of his simple soap drifted toward her — clean, masculine, intoxicating.
Simran felt a sudden, powerful rush of heat explode below her belly. Her pussy clenched hard, a fresh gush of slick soaking into her panty. Her nipples throbbed painfully, milk leaking faster now, two large wet spots blooming visibly on the front of her nightie.
She couldn’t move. She couldn’t look away.
This was the man who had been sucking her tits every day. This strong, quiet, incredibly well-built man had been drinking from her like she belonged to him.
And right now, he was standing there almost naked, water still dripping down his body, looking like every dirty fantasy she had tried to suppress.
Her hand moved on its own.
She knocked once on the doorframe — a soft, hesitant tap.
Bhola turned, surprised, but when he saw her standing there in her nightie, eyes dark with need, his expression changed instantly.
Simran stepped inside his room and closed the door behind her.
Simran stood frozen in the doorway of Bhola’s room, her eyes locked on him like she had been hypnotized.
He was still damp from the shower, the small white towel wrapped low around his waist, clinging to his hips. Water droplets traced slow, glistening paths down his broad chest, over the hard ridges of his abs, and disappeared into the towel. The fabric was stretched tight, the heavy outline of his thick cock clearly visible beneath it, hanging long and full even when soft. His strong thighs and the sharp V-line of his pelvis made her mouth go dry. He looked powerful, masculine, and dangerously sexual.
She stared longer than she should have.
The sight sent a violent rush of heat straight between her legs. Her pussy clenched hard, a fresh gush of slick soaking into her already damp panty. Her nipples throbbed painfully, milk leaking faster now.
Then reality slammed back into her.
She blinked hard, snapping out of the trance, cheeks burning with embarrassment.
“Will… will you have tea?” she asked, her voice coming out higher and shakier than she intended.
Bhola looked at her for a moment, then gave a small, respectful nod.
“Bhabhi, don’t worry. I will make it now. I am coming in a minute.”
Simran nodded quickly, turned, and walked back toward the kitchen, her heart pounding so loudly she was sure he could hear it.
The moment she reached the kitchen counter, the image of Bhola in nothing but that tiny towel flooded her mind again. She could still see the way the water had clung to his skin, the way the towel had barely contained the thick, heavy weight between his legs, the way his chest and arms looked so strong and capable.
She pressed her thighs together tightly, feeling the slick slide of her swollen pussy lips. A fresh wave of milk leaked from her nipples, soaking further into her nightie.
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