She paused at the threshold—glancing back over her shoulder, tits swaying, one hand cupping her leaking cunt as if trying to hold my load inside.
"Don't let her see too much… at first…" she whispered, voice husky and teasing. "Save some bullying for me… husband…"
Then she disappeared into the bathroom—leaving the door cracked just enough to hear the shower start.
I leaned back—cock throbbing under the gown—listening to the water run.
The suite was silent except for the faint drip of cum still leaking from the bed.
And Samantha was on her way up.
Any second now.
The knock came—soft, hesitant—exactly fourteen minutes later.
I called out—voice calm, warm, laced with just enough fatigue to sell the injured act.
"Come in."
The door opened slowly.
