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“No.” Quentin shifted, cranking his arms around her waist and then grasping her ass. He held her butt cheeks tightly, still gazing into her eyes. “But I’ll tell you something. I am fully prepared to give you information regarding my top-secret project. In return for this.”
“You want to sleep with me. Is that ethical?” Charlotte whispered. “Because you know I’m nothing if not an ethical journalist.”
“Oh, I know. I know,” Quentin said, breaking into a smile. He knocked his lips forward, grabbing onto her bottom lip and sucking at it, causing a shiver to shoot down her spine. “Oh, baby,” he breathed.
Charlotte eased her hand to the top of his black V-neck t-shirt, yanking it over his head with a quick motion to reveal the stunning muscles beneath. They shimmered in the soft light of the studio, still tan from the vacation they’d taken to an island in Central America the previous month.
“I think I’ll have a few things to write about this body,” Charlotte began, twisting her shoulders forward then back.
“And I think I’ll have a few songs to write about those breasts,” Quentin said. He leaned forward, biting at her neck. “Get naked for me. Now.”
Charlotte’s breasts burned with lust, with anticipation. She reached for the bottom of her dress, whipping it over her head to reveal her tight, black bra, which brought her breasts to bulge upward. Quentin wrapped his arms around her torso, unhooking the bra and allowing her breasts to spring forward, bouncing in the light.
“Jesus. That never gets old,” Quentin whispered. He swept his head forward, wrapping his lips around the tightness of her nipples, gliding his tongue across.
Charlotte leaned her head back, her neck arching, her rib cage pressing forward. As she did, Quentin reached down and snapped the line of her G-string, before drawing it down below her thighs. She reached her legs upward, allowing him to slip the G-string from her feet. Then, she wrapped her legs around his neck, displaying her fully naked self in front of him: her flat stomach, her perfect, wet pussy lips, which spasmed, anticipating his touch.
“The kid’s home in just a half hour,” Quentin said, his voice deep.
“Then I guess you better hurry,” Charlotte whispered.
Quentin reached forward, rubbing at the top part of Charlotte’s slit, watching as her pussy lips grew even wetter with his touch. He rubbed the top, parting the lips, discovering the depth of her, and then dove two fingers into her, rubbing against the soft, pillow-like ending, her G-spot. As he moved his fingers deeper within her, Charlotte’s pussy lips clenched around him; her eyes closed.
“Fuck me,” she whispered, her legs tightening around his neck. “Now.”
Quentin undid his black pants and ripped his thick, veiny member from beneath. It was red, pulsing, pointing directly at the softness of her pussy lips. With achingly slow motions, he pushed toward her, pressing his cock deep within her. As he moved into her, her lips parted, allowing a moan to escape from her throat.
Charlotte was bent incredibly, with her hands wrapped tightly around Quentin’s thick forearms and her legs all the way up around his neck. Quentin lifted her, thrusting her against the wall, and fucking her in her pretzel formation, pulsing into her over and over again. His face became gruff, animalistic, almost as if he didn’t see her as the woman he’d come to know and love.
No. He’d slipped into his bad boy persona, willing and able to destroy Charlotte—her body, her soul. And this was what she craved from him. Her head knocked back against the studio wall, causing her to cry out. But Quentin thrust his hand over her mouth, not allowing her to make noise.
“Not until I tell you,” he said, his voice booming. “You’re only allowed to come when I tell you to.”
He continued to fuck her, his pants around his ankles and his cock hard, thick, penetrating deep within her and filling her up. Charlotte’s heart hammered with lust against her ribcage. She clung to him with urgency, not wanting to fall from his grasp.
In the last moments they had together, alone, Quentin gave her a firm nod, his eyes deep, full of meaning. Charlotte’s pussy lips convulsed; her brain began to explode in multiple pangs of emotion. He thrust into her a final time, coming, his cock knocking far into the dark wetness within her pussy lips.
As he stood, sweating, he gazed up into Charlotte’s eyes, becoming the man she knew and loved once more. He kissed her in a longing way, shaking his head, allowing dots of sweat to sweep from his hair.
“God, you’re gorgeous,” he whispered.
In that moment, they heard the doorbell ring. Charlotte leaped from his arms, bringing her dress over her slim form. Quentin buckled his pants, placing his hand at the small of her back. “All right. It’s show time.”
