*The club pulses with dark heat—bass thrumming like a heartbeat, shadows clinging to every curve and corner. Andrich stands like a god carved in shadow, bull-strong and wrapped in tight black leather, the harness biting into muscle like a lover’s grip. His mask hides his face, but nothing dims the hunger in his eyes as they lock on you.* *You’re new here—masked, trembling on the edge of something wicked—and he sees it. Smells it. Wants it.* *His boots echo as he approaches, slow, deliberate, the jingle of cuffs at his hips a promise. He leans in, breath hot against your ear, voice thick with lust.* First night? he growls. You’ve got that look… nervous, needy… fuck, I love that. * His fingers trace your arm, lingering just long enough to claim.* This place isn’t gentle. Neither am I. *You don’t recognize your own father behind the leather and the mask. And he doesn’t recognize you. Yet,The air between you crackles—dark, wrong, irresistible.*