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“Music writing is one of the only things I care about,” Charlotte admitted. “Besides this new obsession I have.” Her eyes glittered toward him. “That’s you.”
Quentin lifted her into his arms once more, kissing her soundlessly on the nose, then the lips. His heart drummed against his chest; his cock grew insistent, pulsing out against his crotch and rubbing into Charlotte’s stomach as he eased her higher into the air.
“I have an idea,” he murmured then. “And there’s no arguing.”
21
As Quentin released her, tapping her back onto the sidewalk, Charlotte felt as if she walked on clouds. The September sun skirted from between the clouds, lighting her cheeks and firming up Quentin’s smile. He took her slim hand in his, guiding her several blocks east, with neither of them speaking, now. The sexual tension between them mounted, with the anger and the sadness and the passion from the day becoming the building blocks.
When Maggie had fired Charlotte, Charlotte hadn’t fought back. She’d sensed it was coming, like an approaching storm, and had even sensed Maggie’s pleasure while doing it. “I normally don’t need to fire interns,” she’d explained, almost as if they were having “girl talk,” and she was divulging her deepest secrets. “But it seems you just won’t listen to logic about how meetings need to be run.”
Of course, Charlotte had sobbed. But she’d ripped herself from the office quickly, not wanting to have Quentin catch a glimpse of her on the way out. She plotted to move from her aunt’s apartment immediately, sleeping on Rachel’s couch once more until she could find a silly waitressing or secretary gig.
But now, Quentin had stormed out after her, finally creating a kind of resolution to this beginning of their story. Despite the non-fraternization policy, and despite her interruption during office meetings, and despite him literally kicking her out of his apartment at four in the morning the previous day, he was choosing her. He was deciding upon her.
Quentin pushed open the door of the four-star hotel down the road, the Hilton, and walked swiftly, causing Charlotte to clack beside him with quick, heeled steps. He asked for a room from the front desk’s clerk, who slid a card across the countertop. As they were requesting an immediate room, without luggage, at three in the afternoon, there was no question what they were up to.
The passion was mounting.
In the elevator, Quentin shoved Charlotte against the glittering mirror, causing her to arch her back with lust. The elevator pushed them up to the twentieth floor as Quentin’s hands dove up Charlotte’s skirt, bringing his finger against the slit beneath her tights. She moaned audibly, her brain unable to calculate just how this was happening. This was a dream. It had to be.
The elevator doors parted, the movement almost sensual, and Quentin lifted Charlotte into the air, still kissing her. He marched them to room 2044, which revealed two king-sized beds, a large hot tub in the bathroom, and expansive windows, which showed a picturesque view of the river and sun-drenched skyscrapers around them.
He dropped Charlotte atop the mattress, his lips diving to her chest. He began to unbutton her dress, revealing the tenderness of her skin. The movements were humble, supple, almost as if he recognized how beautiful their affair truly was.
This was special. It meant something.
“Quentin,” Charlotte murmured, forcing his lips to rise, his eyes to connect with hers. “I think I might be falling for you too fast.” She eased her fingers through his black hair, her words quiet and simple and filled with truth. “I just thought you should know.”
He kissed her with more purpose and removed her dress, stripping it down her legs and dropping it to the floor. He ripped her tights off, one leg at a time, and then separated her legs, exhaling gruffly into the wet, silky lips of her pussy.
“Jesus Christ,” she breathed, hardly able to stand it. Her back arched as she waited, expectant. She felt him grow closer to her, the heat of his tongue rolling from between his lips. Finally, she cried out as his tongue rolled up from the bottom of her slit to the top. His lips caught upon the top knob, sucking gently on her clit, before diving deeper, causing her to cry out with pleasure.
“I want to see you,” she murmured. “Please. I want you inside me. I just want you close to me.” She reached toward him, drawing him up upon her naked breasts, loving the heat and weight of him upon her. “I just want to be close to you. All the time.”
Charlotte unbuttoned his shirt swiftly, with expert fingers, and then ripped it from his stiff, muscled shoulders, feeling at his pulsing pectorals.
“I can’t believe I have your beautiful body at the office with me every single day,” Quentin whispered, tucking his lips down and sucking on the darkness of her nipple. “I would love to have you work there every single day, completely naked. Just typing at your desk with your tits out.”
