Quentin couldn't quite recall the series of decisions that led to him regularly having sex with Emilia Day. He'd gone over it in his head a million times, trying to figure out where things got out of hand.
Maybe it was that first night at the hotel, when they were the only two sober people in a room full of drunks and he had rationalized it as the only ethical way to have sex that night. Back then, in the flashing lights, he didn't even bother to get her name because he was so sure it was going to be a one night stand.
Maybe it was the day after that, when he spotted her at Nova's new hire orientation. When he'd cautiously approached her at lunch and apologized for the position he had put her in, and she said she put herself in that position and he wasn't even her boss so she wasn't bothered. He gave her his number 'in case she needed anything' and pretended it didn't bother him that she didn't reach out.
No, the mistake was definitely approaching her after a company dinner and offering her a ride home. She laughed and asked if that was the only kind of ride he was offering. If he hadn't reacted to that, he wouldn't have ended up here.
For as long as he'd known about sex, there was an order to it. You kissed, and that turned into foreplay, which eventually turned into penetration. Now, he couldn't imagine enjoying something so rote.
Em always did what she wanted, and today was no different. She dragged him inside and locked the door behind him. Her hand wrapped around the back of his neck and she pulled him into a kiss. She was wearing an oversized T-shirt that fell off her shoulder and a pair of cloth shorts that left her thighs entirely exposed. She looked like sin.
Quentin wrapped his arms around her, and slid his hands past her waistband. With anyone else, he might have hesitated, but not with her. She didn't like to waste time. She moaned, and wrapped both her arms around him. After eight months, Quentin knew what she wanted from him. He lifted her, his hands gripping her ass. She looked down at him, her hair falling over his shoulders now. He kissed her again as he walked towards the bed.
Despite the ferocity of what he was feeling, he laid her down gently. She dragged him down with her by the collar, nearly choking him. He moaned, and she smiled. She knew what he liked, too. Em rolled them both over and straddled him, pushing his shoulders into the mattress. Even bent over the bed, his feet still touched the floor. He could have pushed her off of him. He didn't, because he didn't want to. He never wanted her to stop touching him.
When she was on top of him like this it was hard to breathe. She was rubbing herself against him, gasping. He held onto her hips, playing with her waistband. She laughed, then pulled off her shorts.
"If you don't want to do this, stop me now." She positioned herself directly over his face. Quentin's heart raced. He wondered how many people had seen her like this, had admired the curve of her breasts from this particular angle, and had pleased her the way he was trying to. He wanted to make her cum with just his mouth and his tongue and the depth of his feelings. He took both her thighs and pulled her onto him.
Em gasped again, almost pulling away from the sudden sensation, but Quentin held her there, determined. She was beautiful here. He had never enjoyed the way a woman tasted before, but since he'd met Em he couldn't get enough. She was slick and dripping and he loved to feel it on his tongue, loved to know that he had brought her to this point, and that he would be the one to take her to completion.
"Fuuuuuck, baby." Em ran her hands through his hair, putting her weight on him completely. He pushed his tongue inside her, relishing her gasping and moaning. He slid his hands down and grabbed her ass, squeezing into soft flesh and pulling her somehow closer. She was incredible. There were days he would stay like this for hours, playing with her clit, making her cum over and over again. Today, though, he could hardly wait to be inside her. He'd been craving her since earlier, in that meeting room, when she'd cracked a smile while he was criticizing her. He'd wanted to take her right on the table. She was wearing one of those little pencil skirts with a slit on the side. It was the same thing every other woman in the office wore, yet somehow it was only lewd on her.
He picked her up and rolled over, positioning himself on top of her. She pulled his belt off, and he undid the button. His cock was leaking, pressing against his briefs. She reached her hand inside to take it, and stroked him hard.
"Need this inside me." She bit her lip. "Are you gonna give it to me?"
"Already yours…" Quentin was giving away far too much with that. "Fuck, Em," He pushed his underwear down and finally set his cock free. He had barely managed to kick off his pants before she was sliding a condom onto him, lining him up with her pussy, wrapping an arm around his back and pulling him closer. She was probably leaving all kinds of marks on his shirt. He hoped they would never come off. He hoped that she'd leave scars on his body that would never heal.
He thrust himself inside her, hard and slow and deliberate. She convulsed every time he pushed, groaning and clinging to him. She pulled him down by his collar and kissed him. She was everywhere, somehow, and it was almost too much to bear. He wanted to focus on her lips, her tongue, kissing her like she deserved to be but then he would stop fucking her properly. She was searing hot inside, and tight around his cock. Nothing had ever felt this good.
"Quentin," Em gasped, and Quentin had to stop himself from cumming right then. She said his name like it was a prayer. She was begging for him to bring her to completion, to make her orgasm. He started moving faster, pushing her thighs apart to get a better angle. He moved his lips down to her neck, sucking and biting and savoring every sweet sound she made. He felt his own orgasm come closer. It swelled within him, desire and lust and something else, something far more tender that he didn't want to consider.
"Em!" He gasped. She grinned at him, the same smile he saw in his dreams, and he felt himself overflow. He was silent for a moment, overwhelmed and completely spent. He had collapsed on top of her, unable to hold himself up any longer, and she was laughing, still wearing that same smile.
"Did you have a good time?"
"People don't normally ask so directly."
"They should. It makes it easier to improve, doesn't it?"
"I suppose so." Quentin laughed. She never failed to surprise him.