Anisha watched in stunned horror as Arahan thrust into Noorzadi right beside her on the sofa. Her daughter's legs had instinctively parted wider, hips tilting up to meet each deep stroke, soft moans escaping her lips instead of protests.
"What are you doing to her?" Anisha whispered, voice trembling with disbelief. "She is your daughter-in-law…"
"Shut up," Arahan said sharply, not even looking at her.
The command landed like a slap. Anisha's mouth snapped closed. She pressed her thighs together, suddenly aware of how wet she still was from his earlier fucking, how her own body ached even as her mind reeled. She stared, frozen, as Noorzadi's hands clutched Arahan's shoulders, nails digging in, her kurti bunched around her waist, leggings tangled at her ankles.
Noorzadi wasn't fighting. She was cooperating—eagerly. Her eyes fluttered half-shut, lips parted in pleasure, breath coming in short, needy gasps. "Arahan… yes… deeper…" she murmured, voice thick with want.
Arahan's rhythm never faltered. He fucked Noorzadi steadily, deliberately—long, rolling thrusts that made her body rock against the cushions.
One hand braced beside her head; the other gripped her thigh, holding her open for him. Every time he bottomed out, Noorzadi let out a soft, broken whimper that sent fresh heat pooling between Anisha's legs.
Anisha's gaze darted between them—her daughter's flushed face, the way her hips rolled to chase Arahan's cock, the slick sounds of their joining—and then down to where Arahan's thick shaft disappeared inside Noorzadi again and again.
She should have screamed. She should have pushed him away. Instead, she felt a shameful throb in her core, nipples hardening against the torn remnants of her shirt.
Arahan finally glanced at her. His eyes were dark, possessive. "Look at her," he said quietly. "Look how much she needs it. Just like you."
Anisha swallowed hard. Noorzadi turned her head then, meeting her mother's gaze. There was no shame in her eyes—only hazy pleasure, a small, dazed smile curving her lips as another thrust made her gasp.
"Ammi…" Noorzadi breathed, voice soft, almost apologetic. "He… he makes me feel… so good…"
Anisha's breath hitched. She reached out instinctively, fingers brushing Noorzadi's cheek—half comfort, half surrender. Noorzadi leaned into the touch, eyes fluttering closed as Arahan sped up.
He fucked Noorzadi harder now, hips snapping, the sofa creaking under them. Noorzadi's moans grew louder, unrestrained. "Arahan, please, don't stop, I'm going to—"
She came with a sharp cry, back arching, walls clenching visibly around him. Arahan groaned low in his throat, buried himself deep, and followed—hips grinding slow circles as he flooded her, pulse after hot pulse.
When he finally pulled out, cum leaked from Noorzadi's swollen entrance, dripping onto the sofa cushion. She lay there panting, legs limp, a blissful, exhausted smile on her face.
---
After the storm of bodies and breaths finally settled, the three of them lay tangled on the wide sofa in the drawing room. The torn clothes were scattered on the floor like evidence of a crime no one regretted. Sweat cooled on their skin. The only sounds were soft, uneven breathing and the distant hum of the ceiling fan.
Anisha was the first to speak. Her voice came out small and trembling.
"Arahan… you… with my Noor too?"
Noorzadi lifted her head from where it rested against Arahan's chest. Her eyes widened as she looked at her mother—shock mirroring shock.
"Ammi… you… you too?"
Arahan glanced between them, expression calm, almost bored. He sat up slowly, running a hand through his disheveled hair.
"Sort it out yourselves," he said flatly. "It's not my duty to explain."
Anisha turned to her daughter first, voice cracking. "How… how did you and Arahan…?"
Noorzadi hesitated. Her cheeks flushed deeper. She glanced at Arahan—who was now leaning back, arms crossed, watching them both with quiet amusement—then took a shaky breath and began.
"At home… Arahan is the husband of everyone," she said softly. "Not just Sabiha. Sana and Bushra too. They all… belong to him. And then came Sahil. Our wedding was fixed because of the family alliance."
She swallowed hard. "On the wedding night, I found out Sahil is gay. He doesn't want women. He needs Arahan. He needs Arahan's love… and his cock. That same night, I understood the truth. Arahan is my real husband. He's the one who… who gives me everything."
Anisha listened in silence. When Noorzadi finished, she let out a long, heavy sigh. Guilt crashed over her like a wave.
"I made a mistake," she whispered. "For money. For power. For the deal. I sacrificed your life, beta. I'm so sorry."
Tears welled in her eyes. She reached for Noorzadi's hand.
Noorzadi quickly took it, squeezing gently. "It's okay, Ammi. Really. Arahan is… he's a good husband. He takes care of me. Of all of us."
She leaned closer, lowering her voice so only her mother could hear.
"He likes to show he's dominating," she whispered. "But inside, he's soft-hearted. If you ever scold him or try to beat him, he'll start crying like a child. If you want, you can control him easily. Just now, if I had stopped him properly, he would have started crying like a crybaby. But I can't bear to see him cry."
Anisha blinked, surprised. The heavy guilt in her chest began to lift, replaced by relief, curiosity, even a flicker of tenderness toward the man who had just fucked both of them without apology.
"Then why does he act so dominant?" she asked quietly.
Noorzadi gave a small, knowing smile. "It's how he protects himself. How he feels strong. But you'll see… he melts when someone is gentle with him."
Anisha nodded slowly. Then she looked at her daughter again, cheeks burning anew.
"Now you tell me," Noorzadi said, voice gentle but insistent. "How did you and Arahan… how did all this happen?"
Anisha's blush deepened to scarlet. She looked down at her lap, fingers twisting together. For a long moment she said nothing. Then, because Noorzadi had opened up first, she forced the words out.
"The first time… his hand touched mine. Just a handshake during a meeting. But it was like… like lightning. A spark went straight through me. My body, my pussy, which hadn't felt anything in fifteen years, started aching. It itched for him. Burned for him. I couldn't sleep. I touched myself thinking of him every night."
She swallowed. "Then Sabiha came to me. She offered a new deal… which involved less profit, and Arahan. I couldn't stop myself. The temptation was too strong. I wanted him. I needed him. And once he touched me… everything just… happened."
She trailed off, unable to finish the sentence. The shame was still there, but it was softer now, shared.
Noorzadi stared at her mother for a long moment. Then she reached out and hugged her, tight, fierce, forgiving.
"We're both his now," Noorzadi whispered against her mother's shoulder. "And it's okay. We're happy."
Arahan narrowed his eyes, catching the tail end of their whispers—his name slipping from their lips like a shared secret. He leaned forward, voice dropping into a low, dangerous growl.
"What are you two whispering about me?"
Noorzadi straightened instantly, innocent as a child caught with sweets. "Nothing, nothing! We're whispering nothing, right Ammi?" She shot her mother a quick wink, lips twitching.
Anisha nodded too fast, cheeks still flushed. "We were just… discussing how all this happened. That's all."
Arahan studied their faces—the way Noorzadi's eyes sparkled with mischief, the way Anisha bit her lower lip to hide a smile. He could see the muffled laughter dancing behind their expressions, the shared glance that said they were openly lying to his face.
"You both," he snarled, anger flaring hot and sudden.
"You both what?" Noorzadi asked sweetly, tilting her head like she had no idea what he meant.
Arahan's jaw clenched. He surged to his feet, towering over them. "You both came here," he shouted, the words more threat than explanation. In his mind, the only way to prove how dangerous he was, how much control he still held, was to remind them exactly who owned them.
He grabbed Noorzadi first—yanked her kurti higher, shoved her thighs apart, and thrust back into her slick heat with one brutal stroke. She gasped, back arching, but there was no struggle—only a soft, welcoming moan as her legs wrapped around his waist like they belonged there.
He fucked her hard for a dozen strokes—deep, punishing—then pulled out abruptly, cock glistening, and turned to Anisha. He pushed her flat on her back, spread her wide, and slammed home inside her mother next. Anisha cried out, hands flying to his shoulders—not to push away, but to pull him closer. Her hips rolled up to meet him, greedy despite the fresh soreness.
He alternated between them like that—pulling out of one only to bury himself in the other. Hands roamed freely: one palm kneading Noorzadi's breast, pinching her nipple until she whimpered; the other sliding between Anisha's thighs to rub tight circles over her clit. He bent to claim their mouths in turn—rough kisses that swallowed their moans—then latched onto a nipple, sucking hard while his fingers worked the other woman's clit.
Mother and daughter lay side by side now, legs tangled, bodies rocking in rhythm with his thrusts. Their moans mingled—high and needy from Noorzadi, deeper and breathier from Anisha—filling the drawing room like music. Neither resisted. Neither begged him to stop. Instead, they reached for each other: Noorzadi's hand finding her mother's, fingers lacing tight; Anisha's free hand stroking Noorzadi's hair as if to soothe her through the pleasure.
Arahan growled low in his throat, pace faltering for the first time as he felt them both clench around him in near-simultaneous spasms. Noorzadi came first—sharp cry, walls fluttering wildly—then Anisha followed seconds later, back bowing off the sofa as she sobbed his name.
He couldn't hold back. With one final, deep thrust into Anisha, he came hard—hot pulses flooding her while his fingers stayed buried in Noorzadi, forcing her through another weak aftershock.
When it was over, he collapsed between them, breathing ragged, sweat-slick chest heaving.
The room fell quiet again except for soft pants and the occasional shaky sigh.
Noorzadi was the first to speak, voice lazy and teasing. "See, Ammi? Told you. He acts all dangerous… but he's still our crybaby."
Anisha let out a breathless laugh—small, surprised, affectionate. She reached over Noorzadi to brush a damp strand of hair from Arahan's forehead.
He grumbled something incoherent, but didn't pull away.
Instead, he turned his face into her palm, eyes closing.
For once, he didn't shout.
He just let them hold him—mother and daughter—both arms wrapped around him now, soft murmurs of comfort against his ears.
And in that moment, the dangerous man they feared was nowhere to be found.
Only Arahan remained—soft-hearted, vulnerable, and completely theirs.