Chapter 6

Charlotte’s anxious, shivering fingers slid the key into the door of her aunt’s apartment. Her ears rang with panic. When she opened the door, the scent of cats blasted over them, making Rachel cough. “Jesus. That kid wasn’t lying.”

“Ha.” Charlotte bounded into the apartment, trying to ignite her energy. She collapsed roughly on a cozy, flowered chair in the corner, blinking heavily around her as Rachel snipped the door closed. “Wow. That was fucking weird.”

“You’re shaken up, aren’t you?” Rachel asked, laughing. She walked toward the balcony, opening the door wide to rid the apartment of the stench. Leafing a lighter from her inner pocket, she lit a candle on the center table, fueling apple crisp flavor into the air. “You were just spewing all about how hot he was. How weird. It’s like you summoned him here.”

Charlotte’s heart continued to flutter. “I need a drink,” she whispered, boosting herself from the chair and marching to the liquor cabinet, which her aunt kept well-stocked. She leafed through the spirits, hunting through the gleaming glass bottles, before settling on a French red wine. The kitchen, tiny compared to the rest of the apartment, featured a large, antique cabinet, with a wine bottle opener situated on a rack at the top. She snuck it from its position, cranking the metal into the cork and popping it into the air.

“That’s a sound I like to hear!” Rachel cried from the far room before marching in, joining her. She slipped off her heels, revealing blistered feet beneath.

“Jesus, Rachel,” Charlotte said, pointing. “Your feet. They didn’t look like that in college.”

“I know,” Rachel said sadly, reaching over Charlotte and pouring herself a glass of wine. “It’s all the walking in this city. Sometimes I really miss my little red van. Remember all the good times we had in that thing?”

“You mean, when we were literally living in the middle of nowhere, Ohio?” Charlotte joked, joining Rachel in taking off her shoes. Her forehead relaxed; her shoulders slumped. “Boy. I’m going to have feet to match yours, soon.”

“Welcome to the club,” Rachel said, filling a second glass. The girls lifted their reds and clinked them, sipping languidly, their eyes closing. “Seriously,” Rachel continued, swiping the back of her hand across her lips. “I know I talk a lot of shit. I know I act all arrogant about New York. But really, my life is going to get one hundred percent better with you here.” She grabbed Charlotte’s slim hand with her free one. “And it will get two hundred percent better for you if you just have the balls to sleep with your boss.”

Charlotte’s eyes widened. She burst past Rachel and sped out to the balcony, her ears ringing with the words. Rachel joined her at the bannister, and the girls held their wine glasses over the balcony, their eyes turned toward the green of the park.

“I can’t sleep with him,” Charlotte murmured, her pussy clenching beneath her with need. Her heartbeat quickened, just considering it. “There’s a no-fraternization policy at work. And like my new friend, Randy, at work says, I can’t fuck that up, just by sleeping with a boss who will surely forget about me the minute he gets my panties down.”

“Girl, I’ve never seen anyone look at you that way. Definitely not your ex-boyfriend, that idiot Tyler. And not anyone else,” Rachel said.

“Well, me and Tyler were pretty fucked up from the beginning,” Charlotte said, sniffing, a smile drawing between her cheeks. “I was never that into it. But everyone else had a boyfriend. Remember?”

“Sure,” Rachel said, rolling her eyes. “I had that idiot from Calculus. What was his name?”

“Marcus. How could you forget?” Charlotte said, laughing. “You were literally fucking him constantly our sophomore year.”

“Oh, yeah,” Rachel murmured fondly. “I was really horny that year. I was losing all that weight and really feeling myself.” She glanced toward Charlotte, allowing her eyes to gloss up and down her figure. “Never did look as hot as you, though. Damn, Charlotte. I mean, no wonder that hot ex-rock star wants you.”

“I told you, Rachel. I mean, beyond the no-fraternization policy, I need to focus on my writing. This is my career. I can’t fuck it up.”

Rachel didn’t argue. She sipped her wine, pressing her lips together, her eyes dancing in the soft light of the coming evening. “All right,” she said finally. “I won’t pester you about this anymore. But you have to admit. Destiny is really throwing you guys at each other.”

“Fuck destiny,” Charlotte said, rolling her eyes lazily and tossing her head back, feeling oddly manic, excited, sexual. “I didn’t ask for this. And I’m not going to follow through on it. Because I actually have piece of mind, unlike some people I know.” She nudged Rachel squarely in the ribs with her pointed elbow, giggling.

“That coffee barista had it coming,” Rachel said, sniffing and easing back into the apartment. She twirled, her moves graceful, her feet rubbing against the Middle Eastern rug. “I might call him again. Who knows? It’s New York. Anything can happen.”

“Anything can happen,” Charlotte echoed back, joining her friend and flicking on some music, allowing the wall speakers to boom with her favorite new music. The girls poured more wine and gabbed easily, keeping each other company until Rachel meandered home at around ten that night, leaving Charlotte alone for the first time since she’d arrived in New York, just six days before.

She had to admit, the loneliness was eerie. Padding around her aunt’s apartment, half-drunk, she ripped her striped dress from her lithe form, dropping it at the entrance to the bathroom. She stood, analyzing her body in the mirror and drawing her fingertips across the bones of her chest, rubbing at her brown, pointed nipples, and then running playfully across her stomach.

Doors away, she knew her boss, Quentin, was awake. Probably sitting alone, drinking whiskey. Maybe reading. Surely not daydreaming about her. Surely not knowing she was standing perfectly, crisply naked, her breasts poised and the lips of her pussy separating, showing their perfect, pink insides, and allowing her fingers to press inward, rubbing at the top and finding the small knob, causing her eyes to close sharply. She unleashed a sigh, allowing her head to fall back grandly, her back to stretch.

As she stood, she lifted her foot up on the bathroom counter, revealing her pulsing lips to herself and separating them, stretching herself with pleasure. As she moved a finger deep within herself, pressing it against her tender G-spot, she imagined Quentin arriving to work the next day and demanding that she meet him in his office, immediately. She’d go, following him like a timid dog. And then, once within the office, he’d strip her bare, unleashing her skin. He’d walk in circles around her, his expensive shoes making tapping noises against the bright wooden floors. He’d press her against the desk, inhaling the scent of her, before ripping his belt from his waist and revealing his pulsing, veiny cock, which extended ravenously from his crotch. He’d press her body backward against the desk, allowing her pink lips to part, and he’d pulse himself into her. He’d press heavily against her G-spot and suck on her tits, wrapping his tongue languidly around her brown nipples and against the ridge of them, causing intense pleasure.

And then, he’d become gruff with her, pushing her harder against the desk, causing her to cry out. Her hair would stick to her back, which would be dripping with sweat. And she’d wrap her thin legs around his muscled abdomen, lifting herself into him, always craving more.

In that moment, the doorbell to her aunt’s apartment rang. Charlotte’s eyes popped open and she stared at her naked form in the mirror. She removed her fingers from her warmth, not bothering to clean them before rushing to throw on her dress. Still a bit tipsy, she struggled into the dress, tumbling against the doorframe as she maneuvered toward the front door.

Who the fuck was calling on her after ten at night? The doorman, maybe? Her aunt, back from Florida? Rachel, unable to get home as she’d drunk nearly an entire bottle of wine herself?

Wrapping her hand around the gold-rimmed door handle, she swallowed sharply, realizing she still smelled like her own sex. With a timid sigh, she opened the door just a crack, hoping this would be someone she could shoo away. Hoping she could retreat back to her bedroom and pretend she’d never felt anything sexual in her life.

But no. On the other side of the door stood her boss, Quentin McDonnell. With his muscled arms crossed over his chest, his eyes dark and brooding, Charlotte sensed that he’d been waiting for her. He’d wanted her.

And with her mouth ajar, her head spinning, and her pussy clenched tightly, pulsing, she felt no urge to dismiss him.

Destiny had pushed her over the limit. And she couldn’t refuse.