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Morgan would be leaving them soon.
The doorbell rang as Morgan chewed her last bite. Tossing herself from her chair, she raced to the door, opening it wide to discover her mother, Kate, standing nearly six feet tall, with tight thighs and a taut waist. Kate hugged her daughter stiffly, making eye contact with Quentin, then Charlotte.
Charlotte’s heart lurched. While she’d understood that Kate would be stopping by that night, nothing could have prepared her for what a stunning beauty she was. Morgan was going to be gorgeous.
“Hi, there,” Kate said, clacking forward and sending her hand into Charlotte’s. “I’m Kate. It’s wonderful to meet you. Morgan won’t shut up about you, so I know you’re pretty all right.”
Charlotte grinned, grateful for the introduction. “Well, I think she’s pretty all right, too,” she said. “Great to meet you, by the way. You’re driving her up to piano camp?”
“Well, the driver is. I’ll be in back.” She turned to Morgan, speaking in bright, mothering tones. “You should grab your piano books, babe. We’ve got a long night.”
“I want Charlotte and Daddy to come, too,” Morgan said, stuffing her lip out into the air, pouting.
“Aw, well, they can’t. But Jason’s coming with us. How exciting, right?”
“Sure,” Morgan said, stomping down to her room. “He always tries to teach me stuff.”
Kate blushed, shrugging. “He’s trying to help her understand the market. I tried to tell him, you know, she’s only seven. But connecting with kids might not be his strong suit.”
“He’s a good guy, regardless,” Quentin offered.
“He sure is,” Kate breathed, sounding hesitant. “You guys have big plans this weekend?”
“Just resting,” Charlotte said. “I’m exhausted. First week at Rolling Stone. And Quentin here… well. He’ll be working on new music.”
“You’re doing it again?” Kate asked, incredulous. “Really? That’s wonderful news, Q. Absolutely wonderful.”
“We’ll see,” he said. “But it does feel good to be in a studio again.”
Morgan reappeared, yanking her backpack behind her and looking sluggish. The father-daughter duo said their goodbyes, with Quentin lifting her into a firm hug and then giving her a light spanking on her way out, telling her “behave yourself,” with a slight wink. Kate waved from the door before slipping it closed, leaving Charlotte and Quentin alone in the echoing apartments, with nothing but their cranking brains and winding thoughts.
Suddenly, Charlotte spun toward Quentin, looking mischievous. “I want you to play it for me,” she said. “The song.”
Quentin smacked the back of his neck. “No. I mean… I don’t know why you’d want to hear it at such an early stage.”
“Because I do. I’m so proud of you for working on something you love this much again,” she whispered. “Please. For me?”
Quentin grasped her hand and led her toward the back, soundproof room, shoving the door closed behind him. Charlotte situated herself on a small chair in the corner, watching as Quentin moved in the familiar pattern, slid ing his guitar strap across his chest and beginning to tune the instrument. Charlotte had watched countless videos of the band on YouTube, had almost memorized his motions. And now, they were here. In front of her.
And her pussy grew wet with insistence, wanting those fingers on the guitar strings to touch her.
Quentin began to sing, then. The song was sorrowful, hinged on a sense of regret and longing. And as he sang, Charlotte stood, beginning to unbutton her dress for him, before allowing the black fabric to fall to the floor at her feet. She stood in a bra and a pair of black tights. He halted his playing, shoving his guitar to the side and rushing toward her, lifting her into him.
Charlotte wrapped her firm legs around his waist, closing her eyes quickly and then kissing him with eager, wet lips. He ripped at her tights, bringing his fingers to her already wet, silky pussy. He unhooked her bra, allowing her breasts to bounce against his chest, their nipples growing hard.
Their kisses grew more insistent. Charlotte unleashed his wide, rock-hard staff, pulling the skin over the tip and then back down again, causing him to moan with continuous pleasure. As he leaned her up against the soundproof wall, his hands cupped her ass, and he slotted his firm staff between her peach pussy lips, entering her and filling her, causing her eyes to grow wide.
They made love against the wall, and then on the floor, with Charlotte wrapping her arms tightly around his chest and abdomen, stretching her neck and arching her back, like an animal in the wild. Their moans were censored from all neighbors, and they cried out, howling with lust, and tearing at one another’s skin, finally freed of the shackles they’d begun their relationship with.
As they collapsed beside one another, huffing, their orgasms throttling through them in the time that was after, Quentin whispered into her ear, sending shivers up and down her spine.
