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From behind, Quentin pressed his fingers against her labia, finding space for his thick staff. He pressed two fingers deep within, easing them against the pillow softness of her G-spot. Having been so close to sexual release moments before, Charlotte’s pussy pulsed against his fingers, becoming another organism, a separate entity. She cupped her breasts with her fingers, wanting to cry out to him again. His patience was destroying her.
Finally, he lifted his rock-hard staff, pressing the tip into the pink, silky slit, which swallowed it, and then grew full with him. His large, perfect balls hung beneath, and, in a moment of intense pleasure, Charlotte rose up on her knees and reached back, arching her spine, and cupped them, toying with them. Quentin let out a great moan, before drawing his lips toward hers and kissing her. He held his cock within her, up to the hilt, not moving for several seconds. The juice and life of their kiss seemed to ignite new emotion within her heart.
Each time they fucked, it felt like the first time.
Quentin began to fuck her, hard, then, shoving his member deep within her and then drawing out slightly, causing her to gasp with surprise. He lifted his hand around her thigh, pressing his finger against the top knob of her pussy.
After several minutes, the orgasm throttled itself through Charlotte’s body, causing her stomach to clench and release. Her pussy wrapped tightly around Quentin’s cock, fueling through intense waves of pleasure, before leaving her gasping, her hands splayed across the countertop.
With the intensity of her pussy’s pulsing, Quentin’s solid cock found release, as well, caught up in the emotion of Charlotte. The ridge of him pushed as far into her wet softness as possible, until he, too, came in a flurry of pleasure. His eyes closed; he rested his cheek against Charlotte’s back. And he wrapped his arms firmly around her body, cupping her breasts.
They gasped together, finding their breath. He eased his member from her pink lips, turning her toward him on the countertop. He kissed her gruffly, with exhaustion, and then whispered into her ear, “Sleep here tonight.”
All the rules were off.
She nodded slightly, unable to think her decision all the way through. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she felt herself carried there, lightly, as if splayed on a cloud. He wrapped her in sheets and a comforter, and then undressed himself, lying beside her and sliding his fingers through hers. They didn’t have words for what they’d done or for the decision they’d made. They simply allowed their eyes to close, without embarrassment. And they fell asleep, diving into a kind of dream world, not conscious of what they would face in the morning.
16
The phone call came at around four in the morning. Quentin’s phone buzzed from the kitchen counter. The familiar noise jostled him awake, atop his cloud-like bed, with his arms around Charlotte, who smelled angelic, like lavender. He inhaled a final scent of her before lifting his legs gently from beneath the sheets and walking, naked, toward the kitchen. The air was eerie and ghost-like, as it was just before dawn. He shivered, wishing he’d put on clothes. Fall was coming on fast.
When he saw who was calling him, panic immediately flooded his veins. He grasped the phone.
“Kate. What’s going on?” His words were harsh, raspy. He found it difficult to breathe.
“It’s Morgan,” Kate cried. “We’re at the hospital. I don’t know. She woke me up. She was having trouble breathing.”
“What the fuck?” Quentin breathed, leaning heavily against the counter. He felt his knees might give way beneath him, sending him to the ground.
“The doctors are saying it’s an allergic reaction to something,” Kate continued, sounding hysterical. “They’re doing more tests right now. You didn’t give her anything—anything she’s—”
“She’s not allergic to anything!” Quentin cried, pounding his fist on the counter. “We’ve had all those fucking tests. And they said—”
“Kids change, Q,” Kate whispered. “Just get here as soon as you can, all right? They’re going to put her back to sleep, soon, and run more tests. It’s been… well… it’s been a hideous hour.”
“I’m on my way,” Quentin said curtly. He smashed the phone down and sped toward his bedroom, where he slipped an old grunge band T-shirt over his torso, donned boxers, and a pair of jeans. Then he turned to face Charlotte, a glittering, slumbering angel between his sheets.
Fuck. This was all happening at the worst possible time. His emotions for this gorgeous girl seemed to recede, like the tide, replaced with his panic. What was he doing? He had to get to the hospital. He had to focus on being a father, an editor. He couldn’t involve himself with this girl.
Everything seemed crystal clear at four in the morning.
He leaned his hand against her naked shoulder, jostling her slightly. Her eyelashes parted, surprised, and she blinked up at him, her face taking on a look of trust. “What time is it?” she murmured, tucking herself deeper into the sheets. “And why are you already dressed?”
