Mira and Cole pulled into the Crimson Rose Hotel lot just after midnight on Halloween, the old Victorian building looming under a full moon. They had booked the place for a dirty weekend away from the kids, both buzzing with anticipation after hours of teasing in the car. Mira’s panties were soaked from Cole’s fingers sliding in and out of her p***y on the drive, and his c**k strained against his jeans. They grabbed their bags, laughing nervously at the creaky porch and the clerk’s odd smile when he handed over the key to Suite 13.
The room smelled of dust and candle wax, a massive four-poster bed taking up most of the space, mirrors on every wall catching the flicker of a single lamp. Mira dropped her bag and pushed Cole onto the mattress, straddling him with a grin. “Finally alone,” she
