Chapter Sixteen: The Intruder at the Door

The night of fevered passion had barely left Ayan and Saba’s bodies when the knock came.

It was sharp. Impatient. Unwelcome.

Ayan, still drowsy from the marathon of the night before, frowned as he dragged himself from the bed. Saba remained under the sheets, her lips curved into a sleepy smile.

“Who on earth at this hour?” Ayan muttered, tugging on sweatpants before swinging open the door.

His blood froze.

There she was. Alizeh.

Her hair was a mess of hurried curls, her face painted with a mixture of exhaustion and desperation. A faint bitterness twisted her smile.

“Ayan,” she breathed, as if his name alone was a balm. “I… needed to see you.”

Shock stiffened him. Anger followed swiftly, his jaw tightening. “You’ve got some nerve showing up here.”

Alizeh flinched but did not step back. Her eyes glimmered with unshed tears, her lips trembling in a way that used to undo him — but no longer.

“I’m divorced,” she blurted, voice raw. “It’s over. Everything’s over. I didn’t know where else to go.”

Ayan’s hand twitched on the doorframe, torn between slamming it shut and demanding answers. Behind him, the sound of soft laughter floated from the bedroom.

Saba.

She rose like a goddess from the sheets, her robe barely covering her body, her skin still bearing marks of last night’s indulgence. She padded barefoot to the door, her expression smooth, almost curious.

“Well,” Saba murmured, eyes sweeping over Alizeh like a cat appraising prey. “This is an unexpected guest.”

Alizeh stiffened, her gaze darting between them. “I didn’t mean to intrude.” But her tone betrayed her — envy, hunger, something darker flickered in her eyes as she took in Saba’s disheveled glow.

Ayan sneered, his disgust sharp. “You left me for another man, Alizeh. Now you crawl back, what, expecting me to—”

But Saba silenced him with a hand on his chest. “Shh, darling. Let her speak.”

Her eyes glittered with dangerous amusement, lips curving in a smile that made Alizeh squirm.

The day unfolded strangely. Saba insisted Alizeh stay — “for tea, at least” — and somehow maneuvered the conversation so that the three of them sat together in the living room, the tension thick enough to **** on.

Ayan simmered with resentment. Alizeh fidgeted, restless, her gaze straying often to him — to his chest, his arms, his lips. And Saba? She glided between them like silk, stroking egos, dropping sly comments, brushing her hand against Alizeh’s knee when pouring tea.

“You’re even more beautiful when you’re broken, Alizeh,” she purred once, making the younger woman flush crimson.

When Ayan tried to protest, Saba only pressed closer to him, whispering in his ear, “Don’t you see? This could be… delicious.”

He nearly growled. “I don’t want her.”

Saba kissed his neck, low enough that Alizeh wouldn’t see. “You do. Part of you does. And I’ll make it worth your while.”

Hours stretched, tension morphing into something stranger. Saba played both sides like an artist: teasing Alizeh about her beauty, her lips, her loneliness; taunting Ayan with promises of decadence he couldn’t ignore.

By evening, the impossible happened.

Alizeh, cheeks flushed with wine and Saba’s relentless coaxing, muttered, “This is insane.”

Saba leaned in, brushing her lips near Alizeh’s ear, whispering something Ayan couldn’t hear. Whatever it was, Alizeh shivered… and did not pull away.

Moments later, Saba guided Alizeh onto the couch, caressing her cheek, pressing a soft, lingering kiss on her lips. Ayan’s stomach twisted with disbelief, arousal, and fury all at once.

“See?” Saba murmured, looking over Alizeh’s shoulder at him, her eyes blazing. “Not so difficult.”

Ayan stood frozen, pulse pounding, cock already hard despite his protests.

Saba beckoned him closer with a crook of her finger. “Come, darling. Let’s dissolve this tension properly.”

And then it began.

The awkwardness was there — Ayan’s stiffness, Alizeh’s hesitant touches. But Saba choreographed the encounter like a conductor, her hands guiding, her mouth teasing, her body pressing between theirs until the heat became undeniable.

When Alizeh moaned under Saba’s touch, Ayan’s restraint snapped. He pulled her roughly against him, lips crushing hers, years of bitterness dissolving in one raw, primal kiss.

Saba watched with a victorious smile, then slid down, her hands already tugging at clothing, her tongue trailing over skin.

The awkwardness shattered, replaced by fire. What began as an intrusion twisted into a forbidden dance of three bodies tangled, guided always by Saba’s cunning hands and whispered promises.

And by the time the night deepened again, Ayan realized with a mixture of shame and exhilaration that he was no longer just disgusted at Alizeh — he was devouring her.

With Saba’s laughter ringing like dark music in the background.

The air in Ayan’s apartment was electric, as though the very walls knew something forbidden was about to happen. Alizeh’s perfume clung to the space between them, sharp and intoxicating, while Saba’s gaze burned with sly amusement. Ayan could feel his chest tighten — two women from two very different parts of his life, now circling around him like predators deciding how best to devour their prey.

Saba moved first, of course. She always did. She slipped behind Alizeh, her hands brushing along her arms, her lips ghosting close to her ear. “Relax,” she murmured, almost like a command. “This is meant to be pleasure, not punishment.” Her voice was low silk, and though Alizeh stiffened, she didn’t pull away.

Ayan sat on the edge of the sofa, unsure if he should intervene — until Saba locked eyes with him, her expression daring. Watch, she seemed to say. She’ll come around.

Alizeh finally turned, her eyes meeting Ayan’s. They were clouded, conflicted, but also glimmering with the same hunger he remembered. The years, the divorce, the bitterness — all of it had melted into the primal truth of what they were about to do.

Saba pushed gently, guiding Alizeh forward until she was between Ayan’s knees. “See how he looks at you?” Saba teased, her hand sliding slowly down Alizeh’s back, stopping deliberately just above the curve of her hips. “Like he’s starving. Like he wants to be consumed.”

Ayan’s breath caught when both women dropped their gazes to him, his obvious arousal straining through his clothes. The tension was unbearable, a tug-of-war of lips and fingertips waiting to happen.

Saba sank gracefully to her knees, tugging Alizeh down beside her. The sight alone made Ayan’s blood thrum — his past and present kneeling together, both framed by the glint in Saba’s eye as she orchestrated every move.

“Now,” she whispered, a spark of mischief in her tone, “let’s see who deserves him more.”

The women leaned in at the same time, their hair brushing against each other, their lips dangerously close to colliding. What started as tentative became charged: each kiss to his skin felt like a challenge, each graze of tongue a declaration of claim. Ayan threw his head back, groaning at the sensation of their rivalry — tender one moment, ruthless the next.

Alizeh broke the silence with a sharp, breathless laugh. “You’re shameless, Saba.”

“And you’re late to the game,” Saba countered smoothly, her lips glistening, her hand boldly wrapping around Ayan as if to underline her dominance.

Alizeh didn’t hesitate to match her, her fingers sliding in too, and suddenly Ayan was caught between them — heat, wetness, teeth grazing, lips brushing, all of it fused into a frenzy that made his body tremble.

It wasn’t just lust; it was combat dressed as intimacy. Their mouths met his flesh almost simultaneously, their tongues colliding, lips sliding against each other in a duel for territory. The wet sounds, their muffled moans, the sheer decadence of two women competing over him — it drove him to the edge of madness.

Saba paused only to smirk up at him, eyes gleaming with triumph. “Let her fight,” she purred, before diving back down, her shoulder pressing into Alizeh’s as though even their bodies were at war.

Ayan could only grip the back of the sofa, torn between surrender and explosion. It was everything he had feared, everything he had craved, and more than he could have ever imagined.