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God, he wanted her. He could feel her physical form, moving just a few doors down. How her eyes had pleaded with him to keep her, to hold her, just before she’d gone home. He’d only known her a day and a half, but already it seemed he was under her spell. He’d never fallen this fast or this seriously. He’d never felt such impenetrable lust.
“Fuck,” he cried out, slamming his fingers against the keys. His ex-wife felt sorry for him, using words like “loneliness.” And maybe he was lonely. He wanted someone by his side who he legally couldn’t have. And he knew what it would look like, taking Charlotte as his girl. It would look predatory. It would negate her entire professional career.
But it was exactly what he wanted. It was the only thing he could focus on.
15
After nearly an hour, positioned against the door, her nose buried between her knees and her heart pushing somewhere beneath her stomach with stress and sadness, Charlotte finally convinced herself she needed to go to bed. She was being foolish, feeling her thoughts churn in a meaningless circle, always coming back to the same thing.
Charlotte and Quentin couldn’t be together. It was against the clause in the contract. And it was against her morals, along with everything she’d ever worked for. If she moved up in the ranks at MMM and became an actual music writer, she wanted to do it on her own merit. She didn’t want to feel the disgust glittering back to her in her co-writers’ eyes.
But how could she avoid him?
In that moment, she heard a knock on her door. Still leaning against it, she felt the vibrations of the almost angry, volatile knock up and down her spine. She lifted herself, feeling anxious, her heart fluttering like a rabbit’s. Pressing her top teeth into her lower lip, she wrapped her hand around the golden knob, waiting. Hoping. Once she opened the door, she knew she’d never be able to come back.
She felt his sigh on the other side of the door. Immediately, her pussy loosened. Blood pulsed around her shoulders and thighs and stomach, causing her head to roll back slightly with desire. Her lips parted. She unlocked the door and cracked it open slowly, watching as the shadowed form of Quentin appeared before her, as if planted there, awaiting her decision for years.
His face looked brooding, dark, almost angry. There wasn’t time for talking. He burst forward and wrapped his arms around her, lifting her into the air. She felt herself lifted, unable to protest. He kissed her passionately, there on her stoop, and then fled back to his apartment, still with his lips locked over hers. She closed her eyes, feeling her chest press up against his. She felt the abrupt push of the door behind him as he slammed it, locking her in his apartment with him. The once-family atmosphere had changed completely, putting in its place a stern, insistent, over-sexual feel.
Their desire for one another couldn’t wait.
Quentin shoved her up on the kitchen counter. He dove into her neck, kissing and then sucking at her skin, causing her to toss her head back. Her hair wound in curls down her back, almost all the way to her ass. Grasping her buttocks, he lifted her, then slipped her black leggings down to her knees, revealing her tender, kissable legs.
Bending down, he exhaled warmly between her thighs, gazing down at her perfect, peach lips. He stripped the leggings from her feet, one by one, and then allowed his tongue to release, drawing a line from the inside of her knee, all the way to her wet pussy. Sensing his impending tongue, Charlotte lifted her legs high, pressing her feet on either side of her, on the countertop. But he toyed with her, poising, silent, in front of her silky, wet pussy, its lips parting, opening into soft, gorgeous darkness.
“Do you want this, Charlotte?” he asked her gruffly.
Charlotte hesitated. Countless questions flashed through her mind. But she nodded, almost imperceptibly, feeling warm, anxious, needy. “Fuck me, Quentin,” she whispered. “Please.”
Quentin dove into her, his tongue parting the lips of her pinkness, drawing out the warmth and the silky wetness, causing her eyes to close. A soft moan escaped her mouth. She reached upward, removing her black V-neck evenly, along with her bra, which she tossed across the kitchen. Her nipples pierced the air, looking like brown daggers. She grabbed them tightly, crying out as Quentin’s tongue dipped further within her. She began to quiver, unable to control her desire. His face grew coated in her lustful wetness.
Moments before she was about to come, as her pussy began to pulse with impending release, Quentin halted his tongue. He stood upright, gazing into her eyes, and then pushed his face into hers, sucking at her lip. He maneuvered his thick hands around her waist, and then he flipped her over, bringing her ass outward on the countertop. She cried out in surprise, and then poised herself, expectantly, listening as Quentin ripped his belt from his jeans and unzipped himself. She could feel the heat of his rock-hard, pulsing member across her thighs and on the curvature of her ass.
