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.
