Read Novel Full Chapter 903: Room Service Lady - Samantha
Chapter 903: Room Service Lady - Samantha
Suddenly — three sharp knocks at the door.
"Room service..." came a soft, polite female voice from the hallway.
Gabriela’s eyes snapped wide. She was still sprawled on the bed — legs slightly parted, sheets barely pulled up to cover her tits and the sticky mess between her thighs. Cum was still slowly leaking from her gaping asshole, soaking a dark wet spot beneath her ass. Her face flushed crimson in an instant.
"No—no—no—" she hissed under her breath, yanking the sheet higher to hide herself completely. "Jack—don’t answer— just ignore her— she’ll go away— por favor, I’m a mess... I smell like sex... like cum... like pee... my asshole’s still open... if she sees me like this I’ll die—"
But before she could finish her frantic whisper, I grinned down at her — dark, teasing — and called out loud enough for the hallway to hear:
"Coming..."
Gabriela’s mouth fell open in pure horror. She shot me a look that was equal parts blushing mortification and annoyed betrayal — cheeks burning, eyes narrowed, lips pressed into a thin line.
"Jack... you bastard..." she mouthed silently, clutching the sheet tighter like it was armor.
I reached over and delivered a quick, possessive smack right across her covered ass — hard enough that the sound cracked through the room even through the fabric.
SMACK!
"Aaah!" she yelped — loud, involuntary, high-pitched — before clamping a hand over her mouth. Her whole body jolted, the sheet slipping just enough to reveal one swollen, red-tipped nipple. Fresh cum squeezed out of her wrecked hole from the impact, making her whimper again. "Jack—stop— that hurt... and it’s loud... she heard... she definitely heard..."
I just smirked, stood up, and grabbed my black boxer briefs from the floor. I pulled them on slowly — deliberately — letting her watch as my thick, semi-hard cock strained against the thin fabric.
The outline was obscene: the fat head clearly defined, the cock thick and heavy, a dark wet spot already forming where leftover cum and her juices had soaked through.
Gabriela’s eyes dropped straight to it. Her annoyed glare melted into something hungrier, more panicked.
"Jack... no... You can’t go to the door like that... everyone can see... your cock... It’s so obvious... it’s bulging... she’s gonna know... she’s gonna know you just fucked me senseless on the balcony... aaaah... put something else on... please..."
Gabriela’s whisper was frantic, high-pitched, her hands clutching the sheet like a lifeline while she tried to disappear under it. But her eyes kept flicking down to the obscene outline in my briefs — thick shaft curved to the side, head clearly defined, the dark wet patch spreading wider with every heartbeat.
I ignored every pleading word.
I walked to the door slowly — deliberately — letting my heavy cock bounce and swing visibly with each step. The fabric stretched taut, almost obscene, the head rubbing against the cotton with every movement.
I cracked the door open just enough to see out, blocking most of the room behind my body.
It wasn’t room service with champagne.
It was a woman in her mid-30s, hotel housekeeping uniform — dark blue polo, name tag reading "Samantha", hair pulled back in a bun, pushing a large cleaning trolley loaded with fresh towels, mini bottles, vacuum, mop, and a bag for soiled linens.
Her eyes immediately dropped to my bare torso — lingering on the defined ridges of my abs, the faint sheen of sweat still clinging from the balcony — then flicked lower. She froze for half a second when she registered the massive, unmistakable bulge tenting my underwear. Her cheeks flushed, but she quickly schooled her expression into professional neutrality.
"Housekeeping, sir. Evening turndown service. May I come in to refresh the room?"
I didn’t hesitate.
I pulled the door wide open — stepping aside completely — letting her see straight into the dimly lit suite.
The smell hit her first: thick, unmistakable sex — sweat, cum, pussy, faint tang of piss from earlier, all mixed with Gabriela’s vanilla lotion. It hung heavy in the air like fog.
Samantha’s eyes widened just a fraction as she pushed the trolley inside. Her gaze swept the room — the rumpled bed, the wet spot on the balcony floor still glistening under the city lights, the trail of cum drips leading from the sliding door to the bed — and finally landed on Gabriela.
Gabriela was curled on her side under the sheet, only her flushed face and one bare shoulder visible. Her hair was a wild mess, her lips swollen, her eyes glassy with leftover tears and arousal.
When Samantha’s stare found the dark, sticky cum stain on the carpet right beside the bed — a thick, pearly puddle that had obviously dripped straight from Gabriela’s gaping asshole — Gabriela let out a tiny, mortified whimper and buried her face in the pillow.
Samantha’s professional mask cracked for a split second. She swallowed hard, cheeks darkening, but kept moving — slow, deliberate — like she was trying not to stare.
I walked back to the bed, casual as hell, cock still straining obscenely against my briefs. I slid onto the mattress behind Gabriela, wrapped both arms around her naked body from behind — spooning her tightly so the sheet barely covered us.
My hard-on pressed right against the curve of her ass through the thin fabric, hot and insistent. She stiffened instantly, a soft "aaaah..." escaping her lips as she felt me grind subtly against her leaking hole.
I rested my chin on her shoulder, lips brushing her ear, and spoke loud enough for Samantha to hear clearly.
"Does this hotel also offer laundry services?"
Samantha — now gathering used towels from the bathroom doorway — nodded without turning fully around. Her voice was steady, but a little breathier than before.
"Yes, sir. We can take care of that for you tonight if you’d like. Just leave the bag outside the door when you’re ready."
I nodded, tightening my arms around Gabriela so her tits pressed against my forearms, nipples hard against my skin.
"Please take our clothes from the bathroom, then."
Gabriela’s whole body went rigid. She twisted her head just enough to hiss at me under her breath.
"Jack—no—our clothes... they’re soaked... my panties... your shirt... there’s cum all over them... she’s gonna see... she’s gonna touch them... aaaah... don’t make her... please... I’m dying here... my face is on fire..."
I didn’t whisper back. I spoke normally, casually, like we were discussing the weather.
"Everything’s in there — shirts, jeans, her lingerie. Just bundle it up. We’ll need it cleaned and returned by morning."