Hey everyone. I'm back! Always love writing this story and I'm so glad some of you have encouraged some more viewers! I love you for that! I had the pleasure of meeting the queen twice this week! Yes, the one and only Lea Michele at her NYC album signing and at Good Morning America the next day and quite honestly it's been the best experience of my life! Enjoy Chapter 6! Warning, there's some smut, but I know you gleeks love that #wanky!
"No way," she slurred. "My Papa wasat that game! He has a signed baseball from Mark Hudson."
"Yeah, that was my uncle. Threw the final pitch that struck Jared out. Great game. Play-offs of '92"
Two bottles of champagne later, they sat upon the bright, red couch in the living room. Her knee high, leather boots slung across the room, along with his suit jacket.
"So you can just, like, get in anywhere?" she slung herself on his shoulder; his face cringed as he caught a whiff of her alcohol-stained breath.
"Just about," he smirked, lifting his glass to his lips, taking a sip of his Leoville Barton .
Leaning across his chest, she wrapped a hand around his as it held the glass, bringing it to her own lips. She chugged the rest of the glass down, squeezing her eyes as she swallowed it all, then set the glass back down on the table, successfully missing the table as it fell to the ground with a crash.
"Was that the doorbell?" she suddenly turned, perking up like a mere cat.
"No, no," he smiled, admiring her drunken state.
"Oh," she shrunk back down onto the couch. Slinging her now bare feet across his lap, she curled up next to him, sliding her arms around the back of his neck. "So, w-what are we gonna do."
He looked back down at her, seeing the glazing over her eyes. "I don't exactly know. I hadn't planned this."
"Okay, lemme guess." She slung a leg over his lap, so she sat straddling him as she played with his undone tie. "You're prolly one of those guys who-who plans every little detail in his life."
He smiled shyly, nodding his head as he focused on her drunken banter.
"You have one of those big ol' calendars on your big work desk, with all the crazy colors all over them for birthdays and parties and-and…"
"and what, sweetie?" he looked down at her steadily closing eyes.
"I don't remember," she pouted.
He chuckled taking another glass, casually filling it lightly with champagne. Just as he lifted it to his lips, a knock could be heard from across the room.
"I got it!" she quickly hopped off his lap, shuffling across the carpet, and tripping up the single stair to the doorway. She flopped on the floor, laughing hysterically at herself, before standing up to straighten herself out. He chuckled to himself from across the room, watching as she answered the door.
Standing on the other side of the door was a tuxedo clad waiter, holding a large golden bucket in his hands. Rachel looked back to Finn, and he ushered her to assure her it was alright to take it. The waiter stood their awkwardly for a few seconds, before Rachel took the initiative to shut the door.
She skipped lightly back down the step, scurrying back across the room to meet him at the couch. Setting the bucket back down on the table before them, she resumed her spot on his lap.
"I think he was waiting for a tip," he sneered as she sat back down.
"Excuse me, I didn't think he had change for a hundred," she quipped back.
He looked her dead in the eye, making a light fake laugh, as she did the same.
He looked just beyond her, at the bucket which lay on the table, and reached an arm around her, removing the top. He pulled out a strawberry, and eased his way back in front of her.
"Open up," he requested.
She stared dubiously at him.
"They bring out the flavor of the champagne," he assured her.
She complied, greeting the strawberry in his hand with an open mouth, lightly wrapping her lips around his two fingers which held the stem. She sensually chewed the fruit, her eyes never leaving him, until she turned to the table behind her to take a sip of his glass of wine.
The red wine stained her lips, leaving a small trace below her pouting lip.
"You, uh, got some on your lip," he said shyly.
She opened her mouth, sticking a tongue out in an attempt to lick up the remnants of wine that resided on her lip.
"You, uh, missed it. Right…here," he reached forward, bringing his thumb up to her lower lip, sliding it lightly across, removing it from her wine stained lips.
She carefully raised her gaze to meet his, finding him looking back at her.
He settled his hands on her waist, as he felt himself lightly gravitating towards her. Eyes locked on his, she moved forward, identifying the want in his eyes. She could feel his breath on her lips, and when they were inches away, he could hear her lightly whisper against him: "Not on the lips."
He was stunned by her request, but complied nonetheless. As they came near contact with each other, he moved a hand behind her ear, brushing away her hair. Drawing his lips away from hers, he touched his lips to her neck. She purred lightly, tilting her head the other way, allowing him more access. He trailed kisses down her neck to her collar bone, where he removed his lips, and slowly moved back to see her face one again.
She looked back at him, eyes filled with lust, so he took initiative. Reaching behind her, he laid his hands across the length of her back, where he turned her to lay her back down on the couch. Hovering over her, he resumed kissing back down her neck. When he reached the swell of her bra, he lightly lifted his head up to look at her. Seeing her eyes closed in enjoyment, he continued. Lifting her crop top over her head, he tossed it to the side.
Her continuous moans enthralled him as he slid down her painfully short jean shorts. Simultaneously, she began unbuttoning his white blouse, tossing his undone tie behind them. She ran her chipped black nails over his bare chest, and down his toned arms, unaware of this new level of intimacy.
Her bare legs brushed up along the sides of his trousers where she could feel his prominent erection. Needing to feel more of him, she carefully slid down his trousers, tossing them onto the growing pile of their clothes. He kissed his way down to the swell of her breast, right at the rim of her black, lacey bra. With the back of his hand, he caressed down her bare arm, and watched as she shivered at her goosebumps.
His hands reached behind her back, fondling with the back latch of her bra. He lips settled on her bare shoulder, as he was able to unclasp the bra, and slowly slide it down her arms. He paused here, feeling as though he may be taking advantage of her inebriated state. As he began to pull himself back, she reached her hand beside her, finding his hand and slid it up along the side of her body. She placed his hand on top of her breast, assuring him to continue, and she tightened the other arm behind his neck, closing the distance between them, began kissing along his cheek and down his throat. Using her original guidance, he squeezed her breast, making sure to use smooth, gentle strokes.
Wishing to speed up the process, Rachel began to grind herself against his erection, taking great pleasure in feeling him against her. Her began putting pressure on her ripe nipple with his thumb, then switched to the other breast. She paused her movements along his throat, enjoying his careful attention to her needs as she let out a gentle moan.
She became anxious, longing for more than his agonizingly slow, but sensual touch. She moved a hand around to his rear, giving his a tight pinch, causing him to jerk against her. She gave him a devilish smirk against the warmth of his shoulder, and moved her nails up along his side. As she brought it around to his chest, she trailed her nails up and down his chest a few times, teasing him, before she moved down along the waistband of his boxers. She could hear his breath hitch, and he instantly became nervous, not having my experience in this area.
She moved a hand beneath his boxers, finding his impressive length, she wrapped a hand around it, pushing the rest of his boxers down. She teased her hand up and down, hearing a mild moan coming from his lips. He moved his hands slowly down her sides, finding the edge of her pink, hearted panties, he hooked his fingers in them. She opened her mouth slightly as she took a light nip at his shoulder, the action causing him to jerk once again. As he slid them down her soft bare legs, he removed them, gliding his hands back up along her hips.
Reaching for him, once more, she positioned him at her entrance as she prepared for his impressive length. When he finally entered, he was slow with his movements, not wishing to overwhelm her. She, on the other hand, had a different idea in mind. Easing him more quickly inside her, she wrapped her legs around, squeezing at his butt with her heels, repeating the action as they quickly found a rhythm. Hands on his shoulders, and heels behind him, she quickened the pace, as he took his tim carefully kissing and massaging her breasts.
It was a strange phenomenon, her being intimate this way. She was used to the rushed, heightened feeling, as opposed to this soft, sensual feel, and though she wouldn't dare admit it to Santana, she was pretty sure she preferred this one.
She turned over in bed, finding an empty space next to her, and thought nothing of it. When she turned to her other side, she found a digital alarm clock reading 5:11 am. When she glanced just next to this clock, she found a solid silver Rolex laying on the bed side table. That was when it occurred to her, this most definitely was not her apartment.
Shooting up in bed, she glanced across the room and found the couch from the night before, and the memories came flooding back with it, along with their pile of discarded clothes beside it. She remembered the intimate fun she had had, but left her wondering where the stranger was. Certainly she was used to being left alone, but usually it wasn't in the strangers bed, and certainly not his penthouse suite. Finding her pink panties that had previously been discarded, she put them on and tiptoed around the suite, finding his unbuttoned blouse tossed on the floor, and threw it on, fastening only the middle two buttons.
Walking into the spacious kitchen, she found a bottle of his expensive Leoville Barton opened and on the counter. Taking the bottle with her, she continued her round through the suite. When she felt a light breeze, which sent chills down her bare legs, she found the door open to the balcony. Popping a head out, she found him sitting on a chaise lounge, casually sipping his wine.
"I take it I didn't tire you out," she flirted, maintaining her position at the doorway.
"No, I'm just not big on sleep," he replied, nonchalantly taking another sip from his glass.
She looked out at the vast horizon before her. Sure, she'd seen New York City from the filth of the streets, but never like this. The picturesque silhouette of Manhattans fine buildings astonished her. It looked like the most peaceful city in the world, with the exception of the occasional siren scurrying down the streets. But she knew what really went on beneath the deceiving, peaceful framework, and it was less than pleasant.
She walked forward, leaning over the rail of the balcony, taking it all in. Finn noticed how she closed her eyes and simply inhaled the view, the light breeze catching her flowing blouse, which he just now realized was his own.
"Finn, have you seen this view?" she asked, eyes lighting up like a child on Christmas.
"I'm fine from right here," he assured her.
"C'mon, you're all the way back there. Get over here!" she teased, lifting a foot up and lightly placing it on the second rung from the bottom, elevating herself over the skyline. She leaned over the railing, intrigued by all that lie beneath her.
"Really, Finn, get over here," she demanded.
"No, really, I'm afraid of heights," he admitted.
She took a step back down from the railing, arms crossing over her chest. "Scared of heights?" she questioned. "The man with the penthouse suite is scared of heights?"
He just shrugged. "Most hotels don't have ground level penthouses. I take what I can get."
She closed her eyes, a small laugh escaping. "That might be one of the dumbest things I've ever heard."
He simply sat back on the chaise, raising the glass to his lips once more. She looked at him, confused by the vacant expression.
"You know, I can be out of your hair, anytime," she offered him forcefully. "Cash will do."
He sat, not moving, as she neared his chaise, eventually taking a seat beside him. She searched his eyes as she tried to find if there was any use for her to still be there, when he finally spoke up.
"How much for the whole week?"
Hope you enjoyed it! Lots of details are coming from the original movie which I absolutely just adore, but it will have its own Finchel twist. Next chapter will hopefully be up soon, and as always, Reviews encouraged :)