27
The moment Charlotte slipped from his office, her eyes heavy with the news of their escaped secrets, Quentin collapsed against the side of his large mahogany desk, his shoulders slumping forward. Jesus. He hadn’t been careful enough, always robbing Charlotte from her intern offices and f*****g her hard against the desk, lifting her dress over her spine to reveal the moon-like curvature of her porcelain ass. Inhaling the scent of her during her office day had become like a ritual, something he associated with office life, now.
But everything soured with time.
Throughout the day, he focused his attention on another feature he was writing for the online MMM landing page, an article about a band named Everest, which he’d toured with during the summers of 2007 and 2008. The nights with Ev
