Chapter 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.”

Charlotte laughed outrageously, knocking her head back. “I’d like to say the same to you.”

She reached for the waist of his pants, ripped the black pants down and allowing the thick, firm staff to emerge from between his legs, dropping several drops of cum onto the flat skin of her stomach. She wrapped her fingers around its thickness, unable to reach all the way around, and eased her hand from the hilt, up to the tip of his cock, making the skin taut. As she moved, his eyes closed, showing the intensity of the moment. He bit his lip, knocking his head back.

“Just get inside me,” Charlotte whispered, her voice harsh. “Come on, baby.”

Knocking her body back a bit on the comforter, she eased her long legs around his taut, muscled back, and then pulsed her silky pussy upward, pressing his tip against her. Her wetness made him sigh and moan immediately. He pushed into her gradually, becoming a part of her, folding into her limbs and body with familiarity now. His body immediately began to shake with pleasure.

He fucked her slowly, then, from above, with the maturity of an older man and the passion of a man falling in love. Charlotte nearly cried from the intense joy of it, feeling completely linked with him, the slow motions causing her brain to swirl.

They continued like this for over a half hour, with Quentin often removing himself almost all the way out, his tip the only part of himself still within her, before gliding back into her and filling her up, pressing hard against the softness of her G-spot.

Finally, Charlotte’s tight pussy walls began to quake with sudden orgasm, throwing the vibrations into Quentin’s rigid cock. They shared the orgasm, staring into one another’s eyes in their intimate, private hotel room. Collapsing, gasping, they wrapped their arms around one another and devolved into one another’s warmth, feeling strangely outside of time. Outside, the world had no understanding of where they were or what they were doing. Their existence was a beautiful secret.

The afternoon continued in much this manner, with Quentin calling Maggie to tell her he couldn’t find Charlotte on the street, but to email her telling her that her job was hers, if she returned for it.

Maggie agreed, almost begrudgingly, asking, “Where on earth did you go, then?”

“Had a family thing,” he lied.

Charlotte and Quentin continued to make love, eventually opening the hotel minibar and picking and choosing between the several different hard liquors and mixing various drinks together.

“It’s a Negroni,” Charlotte said, giggling, as she served him the spicy, Italian cocktail. “I learned to make it in college.”

“Oh,” Quentin said, sipping it and making a stern face. “So, you were an alcoholic in college? Is that what you’re trying to tell me?”

She devolved into another fit of giggles, folding into the warmth of his kisses.

“You aren’t going to kick me out of this bed, are you?” she asked him softly, swiping her finger across his eyebrow in a tender motion.

“I wouldn’t do that to you again,” Quentin murmured. “You’ve been driving me wild, Charlotte. I haven’t been able to get you out of my mind.”

“Where were you yesterday, anyway?” Charlotte asked, her voice sweet, fatigued. “I was so worried you were avoiding the office because of me.”

“Nothing like that,” Quentin said. “My daughter had an allergic reaction to that Chinese food. I was at the hospital with her.”

Charlotte knocked up into a seated position, her eyes growing panicked. “Jesus, Quentin. Why didn’t you tell me? That’s terrifying. What was it?”

“Apparently, she’s allergic to shellfish. And the kitchen has some kind of—”

“Residue. Shit,” Charlotte murmured, swiping her fingers across her cheeks. “If I hadn’t brought you the Chinese that night, she wouldn’t have—”

“Hey, now,” Quentin began, slicing his palm through the air. “This is definitely not your fault. And she’s perfectly fine, now. She went home with her mother this morning. She’s a bit frustrated she can’t practice the piano as much as she’d like, but she’s fine.”

“Fuck, Quentin. You must have been so frightened. So, you got the call—”

“When you were sleeping beside me. Yes,” Quentin answered, his voice far away. “I’m sorry I kicked you out like that. I was frightened. I was feeling a lot of different things. Lust and emotions for you, and also, a certainty that we shouldn’t be together. Not when I need to be a good father to Morgan. Not when my second job, beyond anything, is this magazine.”

“That non-fraternization clause…” Charlotte whispered.

“Let’s not discuss it now,” Quentin answered, kissing her again. “It’s too damn depressing. And I don’t want to feel anything but this today.”

Charlotte closed her eyes and allowed herself to devolve into intense pleasure once more, making love to him throughout the rest of the evening and early morning, sleeping occasionally and finding solace in his body.

He was right. At least for now, nothing else mattered.