The Toronto apartment was a cozy, cluttered mess of mismatched furniture and half-hearted attempts at decor, but the shared bathroom was a sanctuary of sorts—tiled in cool blue, with a shower that could drown out the world. Muskan, her lithe frame wrapped in nothing but a borrowed towel, slipped into the bathroom with the casual confidence of someone who knew she was untouchable. Ahyan, her sweet but often oblivious boyfriend, was somewhere in the living room, probably lost in a video game. She smirked to herself as she turned on the shower, the hot water cascading over her petite, sculpted body, steam rising like a veil of secrets.
The glass door fogged up quickly, obscuring her from the outside world as she tilted her head back, letting the water sluice through her dark, silken hair. Her mind wandered—brief, illicit flashes of fantasies she’d never dare voice aloud. She was so lost in the heat and her thoughts that she didn’t hear the heavy footsteps approaching or the door swinging open with a brazen thud.
“Well, damn, if this ain’t a sight to ruin a man’s day,” came a deep, gravelly voice, laced with a smirk she could hear without even turning around.
Muskan froze, her heart slamming against her ribcage as she spun, one hand instinctively covering her chest through the foggy glass. Neal. Of course, it was Neal—Ahyan’s hulking beast of a roommate, all six-foot-four of pure, unapologetic muscle. His thick mustache twitched as he leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed over a chest that looked like it could bench-press a small car. His dark eyes gleamed with mischief, and something far more dangerous, as they raked over the obscured outline of her body.
“Neal, what the hell? Get out!” she snapped, her voice sharp enough to cut through the steam, though her pulse betrayed her with its frantic rhythm.
“Oh, come on, darlin’. Don’t pretend you ain’t enjoyin’ the view,” he drawled, stepping further into the bathroom, the air thickening with his presence. He kicked the door shut behind him with a lazy nudge of his boot, his gaze never leaving her. “I mean, look at you—all wet and shiny like a damn diamond. Ahyan know he’s got a fuckin’ goddess in his shower?”
Muskan’s jaw tightened, but her cheeks flushed under the heat of his words. She squared her shoulders, refusing to cower behind the glass. “You’ve got some nerve, Neal. Ahyan’s literally in the next room. You wanna explain to him why you’re creeping on his girlfriend?”
Neal barked out a laugh, low and rough, as he tugged off his worn flannel shirt, revealing a torso so broad and hairy it could’ve been carved from stone and dusted with dark fur. “Ahyan? That fuckin’ twat wouldn’t know what to do with a woman like you if you came with a damn instruction manual. Me, though?” He grinned, predatory and unashamed, as he unbuckled his belt with a deliberate slowness that made her breath hitch. “I’d write the book on how to make you scream.”
Her eyes widened as he shoved his jeans down, stepping out of them with the casual arrogance of a man who knew exactly what he was packing. And there it was—thick, intimidating, an 8-inch beast that made her throat go dry despite the humidity. She tore her gaze away, but not before he caught the flicker of raw curiosity in her eyes.
“Neal, stop it. This isn’t funny,” she hissed, though her voice wavered, her resolve crumbling under the weight of a fantasy she’d buried deep. The idea of being dominated, of being utterly overpowered by an alpha like Neal, had haunted her late-night thoughts for far too long. And now here he was, in the flesh, offering it on a silver platter.
“Funny? Nah, sweetheart, this ain’t a joke,” he growled, stepping closer until only the thin glass door separated them. His musky scent—sweat, leather, and something primal—seeped through the steam, wrapping around her like a vise. “This is me givin’ you what you’ve been cravin’. Don’t play coy. I see it in your eyes. You want a real man to take control, don’t you?”
Muskan swallowed hard, her small hands gripping the edge of the shower door as if it could anchor her against the storm of him. “Ahyan could walk in any second,” she warned, her voice a mix of fear and something dangerously close to anticipation.
Neal’s eyes darkened, a sneer curling his lip as he yanked the glass door open with one meaty hand, the rush of cooler air making her gasp. “Let him. I’ll show that little bitch how it’s done.” He stepped into the shower, crowding her against the tiled wall, the water sluicing over his massive frame as if it, too, couldn’t resist worshipping him.
“Neal—” she started, but her protest died as he loomed over her, one hand bracing against the wall beside her head, the other trailing a rough finger down her wet shoulder. Her skin prickled, every nerve alight, as she tentatively reached out, her small hands brushing against the coarse hair of his chest. The contact sent a jolt through her, and she hated how much she wanted more.
“That’s it, darlin’,” he rumbled, his voice a low, commanding purr as he tilted her chin up, forcing her to meet his gaze. “Touch me. Feel what a real beast can do to you. Ahyan’s got nothin’ on this.”
Her breath hitched as she let her fingers explore, tracing the hard lines of his torso, the sheer power radiating from him making her dizzy. Guilt gnawed at her, but it was drowned out by the heat of his body, the way he took up every inch of space and demanded her attention. He leaned in, his mustache brushing her ear as he whispered, “I’m gonna ruin you for anyone else, sweetheart. Mark my words.”
She opened her mouth to argue, to push him away, but then his rough hand slid down her side, gripping her hip with a possessiveness that made her knees weak. The water pounded around them, the steam a cocoon of sin, as he pressed himself against her, his hardness an undeniable promise. “Tell me you don’t want this,” he challenged, his voice a growl that vibrated through her. “Say it, and I’ll walk away. But you can’t, can you?”
Muskan’s lips parted, a retort on the tip of her tongue, but the words wouldn’t come. Instead, her body betrayed her, arching just slightly into his touch, a silent surrender. Neal’s smirk widened, triumphant, as he lowered his head, his mouth hovering over hers. “That’s what I thought.”
The tension snapped like a taut wire, their bodies colliding in a rush of heat and desperation. His hands were everywhere, rough and commanding, as she clung to him, torn between guilt and the intoxicating thrill of being utterly dominated. The water masked the sounds of their gasps, the slick friction of skin on skin, but it couldn’t mask the creak of the bathroom door as it swung open.
Muskan’s eyes snapped to the doorway, her heart stopping as a familiar silhouette loomed through the steam. Ahyan. His name lodged in her throat, unspoken, as Neal’s grip on her tightened, his low chuckle vibrating against her neck.
“Well, fuck,” Neal muttered, not an ounce of remorse in his tone. “Looks like the twat finally showed up. Ready for a show, Ahyan?”
The air thickened with a different kind of tension now, the promise of a messy, explosive confrontation hanging between them like a storm about to break. Muskan’s mind raced, her body still pressed against Neal’s unyielding frame, as she braced herself for what came next.
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