Chapter 10~Surprise
Disclaimer: I own nothing...not the Glee characters/ideas or any other product/song mentioned here.
M-rated!
Sam finished up his junior year, then started working full-time hours at the market. Quinn was busy working on her next short story. She was telling the story of her teen pregnancy and was at the point where she was torn between telling Finn that he had not gotten her pregnant, even though he believed he did so in a hot tub. After writing that scene, Quinn put on her bikini and slipped out to her very own hot tub to relax. Sam had texted her if it was okay he'd stop by on his lunch hour and she had said yes so she expected him anytime. Her last text to him had said hot tub.
She heard his car pull up and the engine die. She then heard his footfalls on the porch as he came around the side, pulling his shirt off, then dropping his pants, smiling at her, stepping into the Jacuzzi.
"You have to go back there, right?" she asked when he slipped in next to her in nothing but his boxers.
"Yep, unfortunately. I'll go commando…I'm just doing inventory tonight," he said, draping an arm around her shoulders, nuzzling her neck.
"How has your morning been?" she asked him.
"Boring, but it's work so I guess it's supposed to be, right?" he said, laughing. "This hot tub feels awesome, though."
He squeezed her shoulders, then moved his arm and sunk down to his shoulders, resting his head on the edge, closing his eyes. She moved across the hot tub from him.
She relaxed in the same way, letting the bubbling water envelope her up to her chin, soothing all her muscles. She had a long afternoon ahead of her of re-writes on her latest few chapters, plus more fanmail to answer. That evening, she had a symposium to attend on the campus at the College.
"I'm glad you got to stop by at lunch," she told him. Usually, he stayed at the grocery or picked up a quick lunch, the grocery being too busy for him to take a full lunch hour. "There's salad in the kitchen..."
"Mmm...sounds good...are you busy tonight?" he asked. He always asked her if she was busy.
"Actually, yeah, I have a meeting to attend," she told him, frowning a bit.
"Oh, okay," he sat up more straighter, looking a little disappointed.
"Maybe tomorrow night?" she suggested.
"I've got plans with Mike and Artie," he laughed. "Soon..."
He kissed her on the cheek, then laced his hands behind his neck. The sight of his bare chest caused her to lose track of any concentration she possessed. His shoulders were well developed and bulging...light hair under his arms...one nipple was slightly higher than the other one...his ribs well defined. She floated over to him and sat on his knees, running her hands over his muscular chest.
He dropped his head back and groaned. "Better not start that right now, Quinn...I'll never make it back to work..."
She ignored him and let her fingers drift below the water, first to his bellybutton, then to the waistband of his boxers. She yearned to feel him again.
As her fingers ghosted over his erection, he slipped a finger beneath the bikini top strap and pushed it off her shoulder. Her left breast was exposed to him, droplets of the hot tub water jumping up to her supple skin and running down to her hard nipple and dripping downward. She watched him stare in awe at her breast, his lips parted, then he leaned forward as if to kiss her there...
Red solo cup...I fill you up...
Let's have a party! Let's have a party!
I love you red solo cup...I lift you up...
Proceed to party! Proceed to party!
Sam and Quinn both groaned. She took her hand away from his crotch; Sam put her strap back on her shoulder as she reached for her cell phone.
"It's my agent..." she said to Sam. He nodded, still in a heated up fog.
Once the issue between his legs had settled down, he whispered to her that he was going to make a salad while she saying her hellos to the person on the other end. He stepped out of the hot tub and she was momentarily speechless at the sight of his physique...soaking wet, shining in the sun, all muscle, and only a pair of boxers soaked to his body, outlining every possible detail. He grabbed a towel she had laid out plus his jeans and work shirt, and she watched the muscles working in his legs...the light brown hair wet and manly...
"Quinn? Are you still there? Hello?" her agent said into her phone. Quinn snapped out of her reverie, still watching Sam make his way to the back door to go into the kitchen. He smiled over his shoulder at her.
"Yep...yeah, I'm still here..." she said, wishing she could toss the phone into the nearby woods. "What's up?"
"I take it you haven't seen what's online yet..." Marcy Wiggins, her agent at Signa, said. "We need to set up some sort of game plan."
"For what? No, I haven't seen anything. What're you talking about?" Quinn said, now all her attention focused on her agent.
Marcy sighed. "Well, obviously, your latest series is gaining quite a bit of attention and it has been questioned on blogs and Perez Hilton and TMZ that Paul Watson may just not be writing these stories."
Quinn sat up straight in the hot tub. "What?! How is that possible?"
"Someone found out about Kevin, the model, and now they know that he is just a model and it's being reported that Paul Watson is a pseudonym," Marcy told her.
"Oh my god," Quinn muttered.
"Well, the question is do we strike while the iron is hot?" Marcy paused. "Or come clean about who you are?"
Quinn nibbled her pinky fingernail. "What do you mean, 'strike while the iron's hot'?"
"Play out the mystery for awhile and churn out your awesome stories," Marcy replied. "With an air of mystery, I foresee a boost in sales. Sleep on it, see what's being said online, and let me know tomorrow."
"How hard would it be for someone to find out it's me? If we don't disclose that I'm the author, could someone dig around and find me out?"
"It's a very guarded secret right now since you chose to go with a pseudonym while you were in college. Now that you're more settled, I think your privacy would remain intact. If you wanted, you could do book signings and such, travel a bit and meet your readers."
"Okay, yeah, let me think about it...gimme a day or so, okay?" Quinn asked.
"By the end of this week...let me know how we should proceed then...smooches!" And Marcy was gone.
Quinn climbed out of the hot tub, grabbed her own towel, and joined Sam on the back patio where he was eating a salad. He had made her one also, so she sat down with him to share their lunch before he returned to work. He was dressed in his jeans and shirt again, his hair still a bit damp.
"Anything important?" he asked her.
"No, not really, just my agent with a question..." she said. "Thanks for making me a salad…"
"No problem…" he said, looking at her. "Are you okay? You seem…spacey…"
She had so much running through her mind. "I'm good. I'll miss you tonight…and tomorrow night…is it a date for the night after that?"
He gave her one of his famous lopsided smiles. "Yep…sure is!"
"Good…maybe we can finish what we started in the hot tub…" she purred, gazing up at him from half-closed lids.
He nearly choked on a grape tomato.
Later, she found his soaked boxers on the floor next to her washer and that was how he began leaving clothes at her place.
xxxxx
The symposium was a traveling seminar of some of the most learned writers of the day, hailing originally from Yale University, which was why Quinn was interested in going. It was a 3-hour meeting, basically a refresher course for Quinn, but still she hoped to run into some of her mentors. Unfortunately, her concentration was shot all to hell thanks to the phone call from Marcy and then Quinn's subsequent research on the internet later that day.
The Unholy Trinity Author: Not Who He Says He Is!
Paul Watson Not The Popular YA Author! So Who Is?
Mystery! Who Writes The Unholy Trinity Series?
On TMZ's website, they reported, along with a picture of the model Kevin Trez, that the model only posed as author Paul Watson. Apparently, Kevin wanted to break into acting and he felt this was his way to fame. Quinn noted that he did not reveal the true author of the books as he didn't actually know it was her. His contract was officially defunct with Signa now. And people wanted to know who was writing The Unholy Trinity series. Signa Publishing had yet to release a statement and had not returned any calls to the media outlets.
Soon, Quinn received a call from Santana.
"So, it appears as though your model flaked out on you," she said when Quinn answered.
"So I've heard...not sure what I'm going to do yet..."
"I say let it drum up some press, the mystery of it...people obviously love your books and the stories you tell...and I think the pregnancy story needs to be told for other girls dealing with the same issue that you did..."
Quinn laughed. "That's what Marcy said...let it simmer for awhile, especially since we're just beginning the preggo stuff..."
Quinn sighed. "It's just...I've got kinda close to this guy and I kinda lied to him about what I do for a living..."
"What guy?" Santana snapped. "The grocery store kid?"
Quinn paused only briefly, long enough for Santana to know.
"Quinn, Quinn, Quinn!"
"No, Santana, it's different than that...he's a sweet, caring, handsome young man...and he's nearly 18..."
"HE'S STILL IN HIGH SCHOOL?" Santana bellowed.
Quinn grimaced. "Um, yeah..."
Quinn could picture Santana shaking her head and rolling her eyes. "Really, Quinn? Do you just want to get your heart broken?"
"No! No, Santana...he's different from the rest...and truthfully he's more of a man than some of the idiots I've wasted my time on!"
Santana sighed on the other end. "I just don't want you to get hurt again, Q."
"Don't worry about me!" Quinn said, then steered the conversation to what was happening in the Big Apple.
After that call, she had to handle a call from her mother, asking her about this new development of her stories coming under fire.
"They're not under fire, mother, just people now know they were being written under a pseudonym and people, people who enjoy the stories, want to know who actually writes them," Quinn sighed.
That seemed to placate her mother regarding that issue, then the requisite: "Sooooo, have you met The One yet?"
Quinn groaned. "No mother! There is no One!" As the words fell from her mouth, though, she knew she was lying.
She was able to end that conversation by using the excuse of getting ready for the symposium.
She decided to wear her favorite skirt suit, a black form-fitting skirt with a kick pleat with silver inlays, black blazer, and silver silk blouse. She straightened her hair and did her makeup as professionally as she could. In a black leather bag, she added her iPad and wallet. She put her lipstick and mascara in a small black patent leather purse. Getting ready mostly took her mind off the pseudonym issue.
She drove to the Addlestone Library on campus and parked, thankful to still have use of her student parking pass. She approached the more modern limestone three-story building, anxious to get inside and stand under the rotunda. It had been awhile since she had been to the library, six months almost.
She went instinctively to room 227, the Meeting Room, and signed in. She mingled a bit with people she had once rubbed shoulders with at Yale, then settled in at a spot at the U-shaped table to listen to the speakers.
After a break at one and a half hours, she returned to the seminar and promptly wanted to crawl under the table when one of presenters began talking about the use of pseudonyms, pros and cons. He even used the current revelation of a young adult author, still unknown, being 'outed' from his/her pseudonym. Her stomach literally churned at the anxiety she felt as the others around her discussed this present-day situation, the implications, and what might come of it.
During this roundtable discussion, she received an email from Marcy:
The publishers have decided to let this remain a mystery for as long as possible so don't reveal yourself just yet! They feel this will actually create press, not only for your series but for the entire company as well…maybe get more books to sell. The PR dept is working on a back story for you as we speak. Take care!
Quinn still felt nervous, though, as if her secret was about to be blown out of the water.
xxxxx
Driving back to Sullivan's Island, she still felt wound up, nervous, anxious. She needed something, a release. And she found it in the blue Chevelle parked at Pritchett's Market.
She pulled her Beetle up next to his car and brushed her hair, touched up the mascara and lipstick, and spritzed on some perfume before making her entrance. She knew she looked in her dressy suit. Plus, she had worn her four-inch black patent leather heels and she wondered if she'd be eye-to-eye with Sam when facing him. Not only had she worn the heels, but she had even gone so far as to wear the stockings with the black back seam and garters. She knew she looked hot; it was part of her strategy for taking her mind off her current work issue.
Her feet clicked clicked through the parking lot to the front of the store. Inside the store, she passed by the shopping carts, swinging her black patent leather purse. She spied Sam working at the customer service desk and headed that way.
He heard the clicking of her heels and glanced up from what he was doing, his eyes taking her in and getting wide, a slow smile spreading over his features. He cleared his throat.
"Good evening, Miss Fabray," he said happily.
"Good evening, Sam…" she murmured, stopping at the desk.
"Uh, Bonnie, could you watch over things for a bit? Miss Fabray, I have those papers that you needed to review," Sam said, holding up a few sheets of paper.
Quinn had no idea what he was talking about, but she rolled with it.
"Great! Thank you so much!" she said, smiling.
"We can review them in Mr. Pritchett's office, if that's okay with you?"
"That's fine…"
He led the way to the boss's office, and she clicked clicked behind him. He held the door open for her, and she passed dangerously close next to him as she slipped into the nondescript room.
He shut the door, she heard the lock, and he whipped her around, pulling her against him. Her purse slid from her fingers to the floor, as his hands gripped her hips, then her ass. She loved the aggressive side of him. She melted into him as he sucked at her neck, her fingers tangled into his mess of blonde hair.
"God, you look unbelievable…" he mumbled against her skin.
His hands roamed up to her blazer that he swiftly undone, took off her, and tossed to a chair. Her blouse was unbuttoned low, and he placed both of his hands on her breasts, rubbing her hard nipples through the silky fabric. He unbuttoned the next button down and then saw the black lacy bra she had chosen to wear. He bit down on his lip.
"Unreal…"
She took a tiny step back from him, just enough to look down between them at his khaki slacks tenting. She pulled his shirt from the pants and began unbuckling his belt. He dropped his head back against the door, groaning.
She unbuttoned and unzipped his pants slowly, then pushed them down his legs, revealing Spiderman boxers. She giggled out loud. He looked at her, dazed.
"Spidey? Really?" she asked, palming his erection underneath the cotton fabric.
"Oh god…" he sighed at her touch. "He's my fave…"
She pulled the front of his briefs away from his length and pushed them down a bit. She licked her lips at the sight of him. He was so hard his penis was pointing upward, eying her it seemed. He was engorged, red, the veins pulsing beneath the skin. She slid her hands up his bare torso, his shirt being pushed up too.
"Hold that…" she mumbled and knelt down.
He grabbed the edge of his shirt and stared down at her as she placed kisses on his tummy down to his bellybutton.
"Oh god…god…Quinn…are you…?"
She glanced up at him, her lips on the trail of hair to his groin, his cock brushing her chin, and smiled. A few more kisses downward…
She gently kissed the tip of his cock, licking at the bit of precum she found there. She could hear him moaning quietly above her. She looked up to see his eyes squeezed shut, his shirt clutched in both his hands at his chest, his face grimaced in great concentration.
"Is this okay, Sam? Should I stop?" she asked him.
He vigorously shook his head no. He glanced down at her quickly.
"No…please…oh my god…" and then he resumed his position.
She blew on him softly. She could see his belly heaving in and out with his breathing. She looked back to his member. There was hair, but it appeared as if he had attempted to manscape a bit. His scrotum, now exposed to the cool air of the office and being highly stimulated, was goosebumped. She kissed him there and he whimpered.
She ran her tongue upward from the base to the head of his cock before slowly enveloping him inside her lips. She almost thought his knees were going to buckle.
She actually enjoyed giving head…especially impromptu head. Thankfully, he wasn't too sweaty in that region because that was always gag-worthy. And, she needed something like this…the day had been hell.
She took as much of him into her mouth as possible, sucking him as she moved upward, eliciting moans from him.
"Jesus fuck, Quinn…" he muttered after one particular strong suck at his head. "Holy fuck…fuck…"
When she felt he was getting close by the movement of his hips, she took her mouth away to give herself a break and let him back off his orgasm a little. She could only do that a couple times though because he was right on the edge.
She placed her lips around him slowly, sucking him into her mouth, running her tongue around his head as she moved upward…using her hand to jack him off. She then started sucking him hard and fast, and he lost all control. He tapped her urgently on the shoulder but she just hummed on his cock.
"Oh…oh…oh! Fuck…damn…oh my god!" he cried out, jutting his hips to her mouth.
His come shot to the back of her throat, straight down, she barely tasted it. After three expulsions, she pulled away to watch it slowly exude from his tip and then licked it off. His semen was thick and white, salty but not distasteful.
Her main problem now was her wet and very highly turned on vagina.
He was gasping and mumbling and cussing and looked altogether a different person when she stood up to face him, wiping her mouth with a Kleenex she found on the desk in the room.
He was still gripping the hem of his shirt up to his chest, his pupils blown black when he finally looked at her.
"Never have I ever had anything so intense happen to me, Quinn Fabray…" he said, finally lowering his shirt slowly. "You are beautiful and so, so talented."
She laughed, letting him embrace her, his half-hard penis hanging between them.
"You know what happens to me when I do that?" she asked him.
He kissed the top of her head. "What?"
"I am so turned on right now…"
He looked shocked. "I didn't think that kind of thing did it for girls…"
"You thought wrong!" she said, taking his hand and pulling him toward the desk. "I do need a little help…"
He smirked and pulled up his Spiderman briefs and slacks as she sat on the edge of the desk. She guided him between her legs. She used what appeared to be Mr. Pritchett's desk chair to prop up her right leg, then pulled Sam close for a kiss. She felt his hands pushing at her skirt.
"I've, um, never really, uh, touched a girl…"
She took his right hand and guided it to between her legs. She let him explore with his fingers over the damp fabric of the black lace panties.
"Oh…" he muttered, feeling how wet she was. "Oh…god…"
He kept moving his fingers over the fabric until she finally took his hand and moved the fabric aside slightly. She felt him shudder when he touched her there, realizing she was bare and swollen and hot. She opened her eyes; he was watching what his hand did. She realized his slacks were tented again; his other hand rubbing absentmindedly over himself.
When his middle finger finally slipped between her folds, she nearly came off the desk and had to bite her lip from crying out in pleasure. His finger first made contact with her entrance…it was a teasing sensation to her. He then instinctively slid his finger upward, finding her swollen clit.
He was still kissing her now and again. When his finger brushed over her there, she moaned his name.
"There, Sam, right there…don't stop…" she gasped, her hips jutting for friction.
She realized his hand was now in his pants, jerking furiously at himself.
He played with her clit for a little while, bringing her to the brink, then slid his finger downward, back to her entrance. He pressed hesitantly there, waiting for her reaction, then slowly pushed his finger in. He groaned along with her. He moved his finger in and out, then added a second finger.
"So wet…" he mumbled to her. His lips met hers, not holding back any passion, and he shuddered next to her, gasping and whispering oh god over and over again.
He moved his fingers out of her and back to her clit, sensing she was close. He rubbed circles around her swollen flesh, then tapped her lightly, then just moved up and down, until her body was shaking from the orgasm. He kept his fingers on her while her body jerked and twitched and she moaned through her climax, bringing her down slowly. At the end of it all, he was standing between her legs, both of them breathing heavily against each other's neck.
"Did I do okay?" he finally asked her.
"Perfect, Samuel…"
"I came again…" he said, and they both glanced at the front of his trousers, a small stain forming there.
"I know…" she replied, smiling.
Gently, he moved to pull her skirt back down over her thighs. She chastely closed her legs to stand up and smooth the skirt down, then helped him straighten his clothing.
He held her in his embrace, then said, "I want so much more with you, Quinn."
She smiled and nodded. "Me too…"
He held her shoulders and looked her in the eye. "I-I think I-I think I…"
A loud knocking at the door caused them both to nearly scream.
"Mr. Evans? Sam? You're needed out front!" Bonnie, the clerk, hollered.
"Be right there, Bonnie!" Sam called, his voice higher than normal. He looked back to Quinn.
"Not yet, Sam…not yet…" she said, knowing what he was preparing to say to her before the knocking.
He looked a bit let-down but then smiled. "What are those things around your thighs?"
"Garters…to hold up the stockings…"
"Sexy…incredibly sexy…"
He kissed her once more, and they left his boss' office. Stopping to see Sam had definitely provided her with the release she sought. She tried to push out of her mind the fact that he was getting ready to mumble the L word to her. It scared her that she would've said the same thing back to him.