9
Quentin couldn’t sleep when Charlotte left his apartment that night. His skin emanated her gorgeous scent, making his c**k rise up beneath his sheets. The smoothness of her skin, her gorgeous, bouncing breasts, her thin, taut waist had all been there, in the palm of his hand, literally bowing to his every whim.
And he couldn’t have her again. He’d drawn the line in the sand. It had to be over between them. He couldn’t f**k up the delicate balance of the office, just to bend her over his office desk and part the achingly gorgeous lips of her p***y and dive, headfirst, into her.
That had been the old Quentin. The Quentin who’d ruined relationship after relationship. The Quentin who didn’t have a little girl to care for three or four days during the week, depending on her mother’s schedu
