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“I think I know what you mean,” Quentin whispered gruffly. “You want to do this on your own.” He lifted his lips toward hers, kissing her insistently. He sucked on her bottom lip, inhaling the scent of her. “Jesus, you’re going to drive me wild.”
Her eyes shone down at him, holding such meaning. She brought her hands down to his belt buckle, unstrapping it, and then sliding the leather snake out from the belt loops with a flourish. She kissed him again, faster this time. He pressed his tongue against her lips and parted them roughly, tracing her tongue with his. Charlotte pressed more firmly on his manhood with her crotch and then brought her hands to his pants buttons, undoing them swiftly, and yanking the pants to his knees. Immediately, his pulsing, rock-hard staff sprung from between his legs, standing nearly nine inches long and thick as her fist. She sighed evenly, leaning heavily against the desk behind her, gazing at it with loving, lust-filled eyes.
Charlotte placed her legs atop his shoulder blades and watched as he eased her tights from her legs, then yanked her panties to her ankles. Their smells mixed around them. She parted her legs wildly, allowing her pussy lips to part. He placed a firm finger at the top ridge of her, rubbing at the knot, and watching as her eyes closed in intense pleasure.
“Fuck,” she whispered, biting her bottom lip. “Rub it. Harder. Faster.”
But Quentin rose up on his feet, then, and pushed her back further on the desk. He forced her legs wider, feeling his animalistic instincts take over. After feeling the wetness of her intimate lips, he parted them swiftly with two fingers, and then pressed the edge of his cock against the center. Charlotte’s eyes closed tightly, awaiting the pain and pleasure of his member.
Slowly, achingly, Quentin pushed his pulsing, rock-hard member deep within her, feeling the wetness of her, allowing his mind to bend backward in time. After three or four firm, even, easy pulses within her, he grew more insistent, fucking her hard against the desk.
The antique desk was situated on a rug beneath them, meaning that it didn’t squeak against the wooden floor. For this, Quentin was grateful.
Charlotte lifted both legs over Quentin’s shoulders, giving him a gorgeous view of her bouncing tits and her taut belly. He turned his head slightly, kissing her ankle, her foot. His eyes clenched tightly, feeling waves of passion throttle through him.
Surprisingly, he’d never fucked at his desk before. But god, the power trip felt amazing. Why hadn’t he done this a million times before? Why didn’t he bang out every single intern, strip Maggie against the desk, make his way through the office?
Because that wasn’t him anymore.
Because Charlotte was different.
Quentin knelt down, then, and kissed her in a fit of intense desire. He felt sweat falling down his forehead, pooling with the sweat on her chest. He whispered into her ear, “I think I’m going to come. Come with me.”
Why did he always want her to come with him? That had never been a thing for him before. He’d always been selfish, desiring only his own pleasure.
Charlotte nodded quickly, her eyes dancing. “I’m ready.”
Finally, Quentin allowed himself to be free. With her insides pulsing hard against him, his rock-hard member burst with intense release, causing him to cry out in surprise. He felt himself press hard against the pillow of her G-spot. She cried out similarly, gasping, her eyes filling with sudden tears.
“Jesus Christ,” she murmured, wrapping her arms around Quentin’s neck and suddenly pulling him close. “Fuck. That was amazing.”
Quentin didn’t have words for it. He couldn’t possibly comprehend such a beautiful, sexual experience. Outside, Manhattan continued to struggle past, with cars beeping and humans bolting across streets and deadlines coming and going. But his chest, thrust up upon the breasts of his new intern, spoke a different truth.
Was he falling for her?
Suddenly, he stood and lifted his pants to his waist, buttoning them swiftly. He sniffed, swiping his hands through his black hair and adjusting his horn-rimmed glasses. Silence hung between them as they regrouped, as they found their bearings.
“I’m sorry, Charlotte, but I’m going to have to cut our meeting a bit short,” he said gruffly. “I have a meeting with The Morning Stars about yesterday’s interview, at a bar up the road.”
“Are you re-working the article?” Charlotte asked, suddenly interested. She bounced from her stance on his desk and clothed herself once more, blinking brightly, like a child at school.
“Not quite sure yet,” Quentin said, his eyes growing dark. Was she trying to weasel into his article, now? But didn’t she have incredible insight on this stuff?
Would giving her a chance to be at the fresh interview be giving her a boost in the right direction, career-wise? But would it be warranted, as they’d slept together twice?
