The lounge doors closed with a gentle click, sealing away the trio of women—Hyerim at their head, Yurin and Saena trailing behind. Their laughter, low and secretive, faded down the hall, leaving Joon-ho alone on the velvet sofa, still bare, still flushed from everything that had come before.
He leaned back, letting out a slow exhale, every muscle loose but his cock stubbornly refusing to soften—thick, heavy, marked with the memory of every mouth and body it had claimed tonight. He could feel the lingering pulse of arousal in his blood, a tension that would not fade with simple rest.
He wasn't left alone for long.
The maids—six of them, each beautiful in her own way, every curve and movement a subtle advertisement for the spa's secret side—glided forward. They were dressed still in their immaculate uniforms: crisp white blouses, short navy skirts, stockings. But now, there was a different heat behind their eyes: invitation, mischief, hunger.
