She Used Me for a Dare… Now I Own Her Mother Chapter 392: Room Service

Heena reclined deep within the opulent marble bathtub of the Presidential Suite, warm water softly caressing her form.

The bathtub was massive, spacious enough for three or four people, its polished rims sparkling under warm golden glows.

Her head leaned back on the plush pillow, eyes shut, a serene look of profound tranquility easing her stunning face.

Amid the lavish silence enveloping her, thoughts roamed unchecked in her mind.

Only hours earlier, she had braced for yet another solitary night in her plain apartment. Yet now, she lounged nude in the finest suite of a lavish hotel, alongside a man she once viewed merely as her youthful pupil.

A mere boy. But in this brief span, that boy had wickedly shattered every barrier she erected, driving her to climax fiercer and louder than anything in her lifetime.

He had taunted her brazenly about her husband being just next door, and rather than shame overwhelming her, the danger only ignited her desire more intensely.

She recalled how his tongue had danced between her thighs on the balcony... deliberate, assured, unyielding. Heena's legs tightened instinctively beneath the water, the phantom sensation of his lips lingering on her most intimate spots.

One hand rose slowly, cradling a plump breast. A gentle smile formed. Alex obviously adored them; his earlier firm grasps and fervent kisses left no question.

Her pussy pulsed with longing. Heena eased her hand downward between her thighs, fingers tenderly enclosing her still-tender folds.

"Mmm!" A faint, husky sigh slipped from her lips as she stroked herself.

"Don’t worry... you’ll be taken care of tonight," she whispered softly, as if comforting her own desires. "With his big, fat cock."

As soon as the words escaped, visions of Alex’s thick shaft surged into her thoughts... its substantial weight and rigidity in her palm, the formidable thickness that had widened her eyes before.

A fierce shudder gripped her in the steamy bath, thighs squeezing tight while fresh heat surged through her center.

"How on earth am I going to take all of that inside me?" The idea blended terror with exquisite excitement.

Then her mind shifted to Howard. Her husband.

"You deserve this," she whispered softly, tone steady rather than furious. No bitterness, merely a quiet, exhausted fact.

That jerk had neglected her desires for ages, returning home ever later, regarding her as an irrelevant extra. If he relished other women so much already, fine by her.

Oddly, his nearness heightened the sinful rush coursing through her blood.

"What if Alex takes me again on the balcony?"

"Could I really stop myself from screaming? What if Howard recognizes my voice?"

Those queries quickened her pulse, yet she lacked the will to halt. The peril now intoxicated her.

Heena let out a sigh. The bath had consumed too much time already. Alex was surely anticipating her.

And that girl... Lydia... should arrive with dinner momentarily.

Time to rush.

Drawing a final deep breath, Heena emerged from the sumptuous tub, rivulets of water streaming over her exquisite curves. She grabbed a fluffy white towel, enveloping her body as she exited, skin rosy and radiant.

***

In the hectic service kitchen below, Lydia strode back and forth near the pass, gaze locked on the chefs arranging the last plates.

Savory scents permeated the atmosphere, though she scarcely registered them.

Fingers drummed restlessly on her arm while she glanced at the clock once more.

"Is it done yet?" she snapped, her sharp tone impossible to mask.

A line cook looked up, swiping sweat from his forehead. "Two minutes, Miss Lydia. Just adding the final touches."

She huffed and pivoted toward a young staff member nearby, swiftly folding napkins.

"Where’s the manager today?" Lydia inquired abruptly, voice hushed. "I haven’t spotted her since the evening shift began. Odd... particularly with the Presidential Suite and Executive Suite both reserved together this evening."

The girl shrugged without glancing up. "No idea? Rumors say she’s awaiting a key guest and ignoring everything else. That’s all I’ve heard... nothing confirmed."

A sly, pleased smirk tugged at Lydia’s lips. ’Another guest? Perfect. Keeps that old hag too busy to meddle and spoil my shot.’

She had anticipated such an evening... a precious gap with the manager occupied and the top suites claimed by elite visitors. No disruptions. No oversight on her actions.

Abruptly, the head chef announced, "Order for Presidential Suite is ready!"

Lydia's eyes sparkled with excitement. Swiftly, she seized command of the sophisticated silver trolley. With a sharp gaze, she scrutinized every detail meticulously. Only after total satisfaction did she start rolling the refined trolley towards the service elevator.

Her heartbeat raced faster with each stride. This occasion went beyond simply serving dinner.

On this run, leaving a lasting mark was her firm goal.

An thrilling charge filled the ascent to the penthouse level. Her thoughts swirled with scenarios: perhaps a warm grin from the youthful, influential visitor, a cool look from his senior associate, or even a chance to dip a toe in.

A gentle ding signaled arrival at the Presidential level. Lydia guided the shiny trolley along the spacious, plush hallway. Its wheels whispered smoothly across the opulent thick carpet.

At the majestic paired doors of the suite, she halted, drew a calming breath, and touched the doorbell with her impeccably groomed finger.

The doorbell's mellow tone resonated inside the Presidential Suite.

Positioned before the imposing double doors, Lydia's heart pounded more rapidly than normal. She straightened her uniform once more, positioned the silver service trolley just so, and donned her most refined, welcoming smile.

As soon as the door swung open, her smile evaporated in an instant, overtaken by utter astonishment.

Alex appeared in the doorway clad solely in a white towel cinched low on his hips. Water beads lingered on his sculpted chest and shoulders, trickling lazily along the chiseled ridges of his abdomen. His hair hung wet and artfully disheveled... embodying laid-back, innate authority.

For an instant, words escaped Lydia entirely.

'Oh my god... Oh my god...'

Wealthy, attractive guests had crossed her path before... executives, stars. Yet this guy stood apart completely. A surge of primal manhood emanated from him, crashing over her like a tidal force.

After years, this transcended mere luxury, wealth, or prestige. Raw, gut-level craving took hold. Her mouth grew moist as her eyes dipped unbidden to the striking V-cut vanishing under the towel.

Alex's voice, low and at ease, yanked her back when he spoke.

"Hello," he said with a small, knowing smile, as if he could read every filthy thought crossing her mind.