Quinn’s eyes snapped open, her hand immediately going to her face, shielding her eyes from the blinding sun despite her sunglasses.
After everything that had happened - Quinn’s parents finding out she slept with a girl, both disowning her then kicking her out of the Fabray house - it would have been over her father’s dead body the day Naomi ‘Puck’ Puckerman stepped a foot into the Fabray home. Quinn’s mother, now divorced from her father and no longer giving a damn what Russell Fabray thought, on the other hand, wasn‘t above hiring Puck to clean the pool.
Which was how Quinn found herself sunbathing in her own back yard with the girl she held responsible for Quinn getting disowned by her parents and, subsequently, kicked out of her own house.
“What?” Quinn snapped. “No, I don’t want to fuck!”
Puck shrugged, pulling the rake from the water, resting her chin on the end as she clasped it with both hands. “Beats spending the entire summer moping about Rachel and Finn.”
Quinn growled through her gritted teeth, rising onto her elbows. Leave it to Puck, and God did Quinn hate calling her that, to so deeply poke at her open wound. They were seniors now, or would officially be when school started in the Fall. Quinn had made plans for the summer, plans for her and Rachel that all fell apart when Finn ruined their lives and Rachel, of all people, took him back. Quinn ignored her role in all of this, the things she did and didn’t do that all culminated in her being single (read: alone) for the summer. Single with Puck, of all people, staring down at her like a starving dog and Quinn was the juiciest of steaks laid out before her.
Puck, in her ‘official MILF hunter’ wear, her hair pulled back into a ponytail, sunglasses over her eyes, red bikini top which was more like two large postage stamps and some string, denim cutoffs, the ends frayed, the material worn.
No, Quinn blinked behind her own sunglasses. She was NOT going there. Not again. “What about Lauren?” she asked in a failed attempt to change the subject.
Puck smirked, reading way more into Quinn‘s question than what was there. She lifted the sunglasses off her eyes, setting them atop her head. “Lauren and her family are in Florida for the summer,” Puck shrugged. “And I’m only willing to let these balls stay blue for so long.”
“God,” Quinn rolled her eyes. “Point a, you don’t have balls and point b, you’re disgusting.”
“How about, instead of blue balls, let’s call it ‘blue clits‘?” Puck grinned, tip of her tongue poking surreptitiously at the corner of her mouth. “I bet yours is bluer than mine with all the action you’re not getting.”
“That’s still disgusting.”
“You like it when I’m disgusting.” Puck released her hold on the rake, letting it drop with a loud smack on the tiles. Hands sliding in her front pockets, she walked towards Quinn, stopping when her knees met the metal of the lounge. “C’mon,” she said with a tilt of her head.
“I’m not fucking you, Puck.”
“Jeez, overreact much?” Naomi laughed. “It’s hot as fuck. I’m not allowed in your house and I know you don’t want to spend the rest of the day here,” she paused, pulling a hand from her pocket and extending it to Quinn. “Let’s get out of here.”
Quinn looked at Puck’s hand like it was some alien creature placed before her. She might have been single, alone, neither with Rachel nor Finn. But that couldn’t have been worse than going off to who knows where, to do God only knew what with the one person Quinn knew she shouldn’t leave with. Bad things happened when she was alone with Puck.
Yet, staring at Puck’s hand like it was some alien creature, Quinn could see no reason to argue.
The AC in Puck’s truck was broken and even with the windows down, the wind whipping as Puck pushed the speed limit, Quinn couldn’t get cool. She shifted in her seat, thighs sticking wetly to the vinyl, feeling the growing circle of sweat on her back soaking her sweat jacket. But, it felt good to be out, going nowhere, anywhere, as the city of Lima disappeared in the rearview mirror.
Quinn didn’t ask where Puck got the beer, a bottle tucked comfortably in the vee of her crotch.
“Let me have a drink,” Quinn said.
“Careful,” Naomi grinned. “People might think I’m trying to pervert you.”
“Fuck you, Puck,” Quinn laughed.
“I asked. You said no, remember?”
She eyed the bottle sitting between Naomi’s legs. “You gonna hand that to me?”
The grin spread into a wide smile. “You want it, you gotta get it yourself.”
Quinn could only chuckle, rolling her eyes at another of Puck’s stupid little games. She leaned over, placing her hand over the open expanse of Puck’s thigh, hovering just enough so Naomi could feel the heat of Quinn’s palm, heat so dangerously close to where they both knew Puck wanted Quinn to be. Puck wasn’t the only one who could play games. Just as Quinn reached that point, the line between verbalized desire and physical intent, she wrapped her fingers around the neck of the bottle and pulled.
A choked grunt of frustration rumbled up Naomi’s throat and Quinn giggled triumphantly, leaning back into her own seat. One sip became two, three, a full bottle became half empty. The liquor warmed her body, lightened her head. It felt good to be bad, even if it was for just a little while. To do those stupid little things all the other kids her age did. Quinn couldn’t be bad, *shouldn’t* be bad. With her, the stakes were too high, the consequences cutting too deep.
And it felt ironic that, if she were going to be bad even for a little while, she felt safest doing it with Puck.
She tilted her head down, eyes focusing on her fingers as they unconsciously peeled off the label. “I never thanked you,” she said, lump forming in her throat.
“For,” Quinn paused, swallowing hard as she turned her head towards Puck. “I don‘t know.. For not hating me. I‘ve kinda been a bitch to you.”
“It‘s not like I didn‘t deserve it.. some of it, anyway,” she finally said, squirming a little in her seat. Despite all the ridiculous theories about girls being more emotional than boys, that wasn‘t Puck. Puck would rather pull teeth or put her fist through a locker. Which made her such a contradiction, because she could be brash and taciturn and ballsy, then turn around and be soft and gentle, almost emotional.. when no one was looking. “I was a bitch, too. I shouldn’t have been thinking so much with little Puck instead of big Puck and got you into so much trouble,” she paused, pursing her lips and adjusting her sunglasses. “But, no matter what, I’ve always got your back. You know that, right?”
Quinn lowered her head, unsure what to say or how to verbalize anything that wouldn’t make her cry. “I know.”
It was dusk by the time they reached the quarry. Puck parked the truck under a tree surrounded by a thick grove of bushes. Quinn could see the break in the fence created by a pair of wire cutters, not bothering to ask how Puck knew where it was. She’d already had two beers and she felt a little dizzy, lowered inhibitions reckless.
She got out of the truck, following Puck, cooler in one hand, blankets in the other, as Puck slipped through the break in the fence. The moment they reached the rocky shore, Puck unceremoniously dropped the items at her feet then ran for the water, hurriedly peeling off her clothes.
Puck ran towards the slabs of dumped granite forming a makeshift peer then, hot knife through butter, sliced into the black water. Quinn could only watch, chuckling as she shook her head at Puck’s impetuousness, the one characteristic of Puck’s that always seemed to get Quinn in trouble.
Quinn stayed on the shore, taking care of the items Puck had so quickly forgotten, spreading out the blanket and setting the pillows curled up inside.
“Hey Fabray!” Puck shouted. “Get your ass in here!”
Quinn stood rigid straight, curled hand on her hip. “I am NOT skinny dipping with you!” she shouted back.
“CHICKEN!!” Puck yelled, the word echoing loudly off the man-made stone cliffs surrounding them.
“Go to Hell, Puckerman!” Quinn fired back.
Puck ducked her head below the surface. Quinn watched as the tiny slip of pale cut through the black waters, Puck swimming closer. Feet from the surface, far enough to keep her entire body submerged, Puck poked her head above the surface.
“What scares you more?” she asked with a wolfish smile. “Getting caught, getting naked or me?”
“None of the above,” Quinn said, rolling her eyes.
“Then,” Puck purred, dipping her head below the surface, inching her way a few feet closer before rising up. “Take off your clothes.”
Quinn lowered her head slightly, darting her eyes away as she felt her cheeks warming. Not because of Puck’s hungry wolf gaze, okay, partly because of Puck’s hungry wolf gaze, but because she’d made her decision. She really was going to take off her clothes and get into the water with Puck. Dumb. Stupid.
Hands at the sides of her shorts, fingers inside the waistband of her bikini, Quinn stopped. “You’re not going to watch, are you?”
Her gaze fixed intently on someplace other than Quinn’s eyes, Puck slowly nodded.
“Of for Pete’s..” Quinn didn’t bother finishing her words. It’s not like Puck had never seen her naked before and it definitely wasn’t the first time she’d seen Puck naked. In one fluid motion, Quinn pulled down her shorts and bikini bottom, bending over to step out of them both, followed quickly by her top.
“Happy now?” she practically growled as she walked towards the water’s edge.
Puck’s grin went all ‘bad girl happy at perverting the good girl’ goofy as she swam backwards, giving Quinn some space.
The water was cool and felt so, so good. The moment it went past her knees, Quinn let gravity take over, falling into the water and completely submerging herself. It’d been awhile since she’d swum in the quarry. The last time back when she was just a Cheerio, Puck was just a dumb jock tossing nerds into dumpsters and her attraction to her fellow Cheerio was a stupid singular thought, never to be acted on, in the back of her mind.
All the times before, it had never been just the two of them. There were always others and Puck was always the loudest, the braggart and the showboat. Tonight, Puck was different. Quinn watched from the corner of her eye as Puck swam about, lost in her own thoughts and they’re just two girls, swimming in a quarry together.
“Do you miss him?” she asked sheepishly, embarrassed to break the silence. “Your dad, I mean?”
“Not really,” Puck shrugged as she tread water. “Can’t miss what you’ve never had, you know.”
“Oh,” Quinn mouthed the words more than spoke them, realizing it was an odd question to ask. Despite the history between them, they never really talked. When she thought about it, she really didn’t know much about Puck at all.
“Why?” Puck broke the silence.
“Just wondering,” Quinn said, breaking the eye contact as she felt a slight blush creeping up her cheeks.
“It’s okay, you know,” Puck said and Quinn lifted her eyes, meeting Puck’s sympathetic gaze. “To miss your Dad.”
Quinn swallowed the hard lump forming in her throat. Despite the divorce and, well, everything else, Quinn hated to admit she sometimes missed her dad. Missed him something fiercely, especially now with occasional awkward phone calls and stilted conversations during her weekend visits. The part that confused her the most, underneath the anger and the guilt, was the thought, had she known what she would lose, Quinn still wouldn’t have changed a thing.
She still would have slept with Puck.
“I’m sorry,” Quinn said.
“That you never got to know your dad.”
Puck’s mouth opened like she was about to say something, something sincere and heartfelt. Then her lips formed into a cheeky grin as she tilted her head coyly. “Why Quinn Fabray, you almost sound like you care about me?”
“I do care about you, jackass,” Quinn said, accenting her words with a small splash of water aimed directly at Puck.
Puck laughed, darting under the water. When she rose, she was close, dangerously close, to Quinn. “Then kiss me.”
“Because,” Puck edged closer, her face serious. Seductive. “I’m going to kiss you. And when I do, I wanna know you want to kiss me back.”
“Puck..” Quinn sighed.
This wasn’t supposed to happen. *This* - Puck’s lips, warm and soft and inviting against her own - was not supposed to happen. Again. Already, Quinn could feel herself giving in, acquiescing to Puck’s delicately soft touch, her warm lips and fingertips dancing across Quinn’s skin.
Quinn wasn’t supposed to sigh so.. dreamily. Or part her lips, or purr at the feel of Puck’s silky tongue darting into her mouth. But, kissing was good. Kissing Puck was *really* good and Quinn could stop at just kissing. Of course, there were the two, no, four beers making her head spin, making her temperature rise at the feel of Puck’s caressing hands. The cool water against her skin that turned to warm air as, lips locked together, their feet stumbled across the rocky shore.
Then, her back was to the blanket, fingers threading into Puck’s hair and it was just kissing and kissing and kissing. And Quinn didn’t mind so much when Puck drifted a hand to her breast, palming and kneading the flesh. Because it did feel good and kinda bad, to get lost in the moment and forget everything else.
Then, the hand on her breast grazed gently down her stomach, between her legs, and when Quinn felt Puck’s fingertip pressing against her clit, she couldn’t forget anymore.
“Puck..” she gasped, breaking their lips apart.
“I just..” Puck stammered and she gazed down at Quinn with a sincerity Quinn had never seen before. “I just want to taste you. That’s all. Nothing more.”
“Puck..” Quinn couldn’t tell if it was a lie. Quinn didn’t care. Puck offered her, in this moment, what no one else would - to be needed, wanted, desired..
Fingers still thread in Puck’s hair, Quinn crashed their lips together. She felt the desire rising within her, stoked by the fingers between her legs, the sole digit sliding into her and curling slightly. She yanked their lips apart, grunting throatily gentle penetration.
Puck growled, all low and throaty, and Quinn shuddered, pussy clenching around the finger buried deep in her. Puck moved lower, and Quinn was arching, opening her legs, offering herself to Puck.
And Puck didn’t disappoint. She wrapped her arms around Quinn’s thighs then dove in. Puck could be gentle and soft, and she could be aggressive and hard. She attacked Quinn’s pussy, like it was going out of style or the last pussy on earth, all slathering and slobbering and suction, jamming her tongue where her finger had once been.
It sent Quinn spiraling towards the edge, hands flailing about, grabbing blanket and tiny stones in her fists. It wasn’t soft or gentle, Quinn didn’t want soft or gentle. She wanted this - to be taken, consumed, devoured, to let go of her tightly grasped inhibitions. To forget the pain and revel in nothing but sheer pleasure.
“Fuck,” she grunted, reaching down and threading her fingers into Puck’s hair. Puck laughed then growled as she withdrew her tongue, replacing it with two fingers and set about attacking Quinn’s clit. Lips and tongue, friction and suction Puck battered Quinn’s clit, a contrast to the two fingers slowly working in and out of Quinn’s pussy. Too much and not enough, and Quinn was rolling her hips, writhing on the blanket like a slow moving live wire. Finn had never gotten this far and Rachel, well, Rachel had issues. Like, she ate Quinn’s pussy like she didn’t know what she wanted, didn’t want to admit how much she wanted it.
Puck ate pussy like she was born to do it. She moaned and growled like she loved it, like she wanted Quinn to *hear* how much she loved it. And knowing, *feeling*, how much Puck loved it, it wasn’t hard to realize how this little slip of a girl had turned into the biggest MILF hunter of Lima, Ohio.
Another hard pull from Puck’s lips, the deep push of her fingers and Quinn arched, keening wail erupting from her throat as she fell over the precipice and crashed hard down below.
Afterglow fading, Quinn became aware of Puck. She could feel Puck’s body pressing lightly down on her, the poke of erect nipples against her own, heated skin and the heat and wetness of her Puck‘s pussy, grinding slowly against Quinn‘s thigh. It was Puck’s breathing that made Quinn open her eyes, a hard and jagged almost panting sound.
In the sliver of moonlight, Quinn could see the hazel of Puck’s eyes. Cheeks flushed, an aching desire painting her face.
In a flash, Puck was up and off Quinn, running back towards the water and diving in. Quinn left watching on the shore, uncertain how to feel that Puck had kept her promise.
She laid back down on the blanket, closing her eyes, enjoying the warm air on her still tingling skin. She understood what Puck was going through. God only knew how many times she’d been at that point with Rachel, the thin line between control and letting go, and the few times she‘d crossed it.
She didn’t have long to wait. Puck returned a few minutes later, dripping wet as she stretched herself out on the blanket next to Quinn. Quinn rolled onto her side, snuggling herself against Puck, face to Puck’s shoulder as her fingers danced lightly over the smooth plain of Puck’s stomach. “Why do I always have to get drunk before I can have sex with you?”
Puck sighed deeply, drifting her hand to the back of Quinn‘s head, gently grazing her fingertips against Quinn‘s scalp. “Because it’s easier to blame it on the alcohol than admit you have feelings for me.”
Quinn lifted her head gazing down at Puck. Whose eyes remained closed. “That’s not fair.”
“That’s life,” Puck shrugged. “It ain’t always fair.”
It wasn’t fair, all the obstacles between them. The ones Quinn created and the ones already in existence. Puck hadn’t meant to hurt Quinn or the hard fall from grace after their drunken liaison had been revealed. Quinn blamed Puck anyway. Puck remained not quite at Quinn’s side, but always there, always had her back.
“Do you think..” Puck spoke, breaking the uncomfortable silence settling between them. “If things were different, it could have worked between us?”
“Like, if I wasn’t Quinn Fabray and you weren’t Naomi Puckerman?”
“Yeah, something like that.” Puck opened her eyes, moved her hand to tuck a lock of hair behind Quinn’s ear. “Sometimes, I think about having kids, a family of my own.” She turned her head, eyes gazing upwards. “Forget it. Like I’d make a great mom.. dad.. whatever. Forget I said anything.”
“Hey,” Quinn whispered, fingertips to Puck’s chin tilting her head towards her. “I think you’d make a great parent. And yeah,” she smiled, lowering her face until her lips hovered over Puck’s. “I think it could have worked between us.”
Quinn always liked the kissing part, and Puck was a great kisser. Especially when she let Quinn take the wheel. So Quinn kissed Puck, gently and slowly, like things were different between them. Like they’d actually made it work. And they kissed, and Quinn‘s hands roamed like Puck‘s had roamed over hers before, over soft breasts and erect nipples, feeling Puck‘s breathing turn ragged, the dull but fast thumping of her heart. Then Quinn’s fingers were grazing over the top of a thigh, down the inside, touching soft flesh gone wet and swollen.
“Quinn..” Puck sucked in a hard breath. “You don’t have to..”
“I want to,” Quinn husked. “With you.”
Puck always got uncomfortable with the touchy-feely stuff. She was always better with the brusque and braggadocio. Too bad, Quinn thought. She finally recognized the gift Puck had given her, a night of freedom, and she planned to return the gift.
It hadn’t been a lie at the time, refusing Puck’s proposal for sex. Things were just different now. Quinn was different, a little, a lot, it didn’t matter. All that mattered was the feel of Puck‘s pussy against Quinn‘s fingers, her pained gasps and aching groans that sent ripples of electricity sparking across Quinn’s skin. The pained expression on Puck’s face, like she didn’t want to admit how badly she wanted it. Wanted Quinn.
It’d been almost two years since the night Puck fulfilled her desires, Quinn gave up her denials and everything went to hell in a hand basket afterwards. Quinn’s walls went back up, thicker and higher, but it wasn’t Puck who slowly chipped away at those walls. Quinn did. Tore down the walls where, on a warm summer night with sweat slick skin and beer buzzed head, Quinn could admit - she wanted Puck.
With gentle and not so gentle kisses, Quinn descended down Puck‘s body. And Puck’s eyes snapped open, realizing Quinn’s intent, an expression of shock and a little bit of fear on her face, like the line they were about to cross could lead to more pain for Quinn and Quinn could see how much Puck didn’t want to hurt her.
“We shouldn’t,” Puck gritted through her teeth and it seemed odd that, in this moment, Puck was the responsible and cautious one.
“We should,” Quinn purred back, wondering if it were possible to be in love with two people at the same time, if she was capable of being in love with two people at the same time. “I will.”
It wasn’t her first time, just her first time with Puck. Quinn descended between Puck’s thighs and Puck opened, offered herself to Quinn. Where Rachel had always been shy and tentative at this part, Puck was not (not that Quinn was thinking about Rachel at the moment). Puck was all wide open thighs and hips curling upwards, hands by her head already curling the blanket into tight fists. Quinn almost loved this part the most - the heady anticipation - but not as much as she loved what came next.
Quinn lowered, running her nose along the line of Puck’s pussy as she inhaled deeply, taking in deep the musky scent boys definitely do not have. Hands flat on the inside of Puck’s thighs, with her fingers, Quinn pulled Puck open even more. She licked her lips at the sight before her - pussy and clit and cunt, all wet and pink, ripe like the freshest fruit. And Puck was about to learn..
She wasn’t the only one who loved to eat pussy.
Tongue flat, Quinn swiped her tongue up the entire length of Puck’s sex, hearing Puck groan, feeling her pussy twitch. She licked, up and down and all around, wanting to touch, to taste every millimeter of flesh. To memorize every line, crease and crevice because who knew when they’d get the chance to do this again.
“Fuck.. Quinn,” Puck grunted.
Quinn chuckled because that almost sounded like begging and Quinn definitely wasn’t above making someone beg. So she teased and taunted, dancing her tongue all over Puck’s pussy, never where Puck wanted her to be, where Puck *needed* her to be. Until Puck was squirming and writhing, rolling her hips like she was trying to hump Quinn’s face.
Quinn flicked her tongue hard over Puck’s clit just to watch Puck twitch. Then lowered her mouth, teased at Puck’s opening, where she was just *leaking* wetness. Slowly, Quinn pushed her tongue into Puck’s cunt, feeling Puck clenching and twitching and groaning. And Quinn pushed deeper, until her nose was buried in spit slick folds. All the way in, then all the way out so she could savor the taste on her tongue for just a little bit. Then Quinn pushed back in, moved her tongue in and out, up and down, circling around. Anything to make Puck moan, anything to keep that heady wetness flowing into her mouth.
Their rhythm was all slow grind fucking, Puck rolling her hips like a stripper on a stage. Quinn wrapped an arm around Puck’s thigh, middle finger pressed against her clit and wriggling. And the pace wasn’t so slow anymore, Quinn thrust her tongue in time with the rolling of Puck’s hips. It wasn’t long before Puck’s hips were jerking chaotically, her moans turned to yelping wails. Quinn jammed her tongue deeper, as deep as it would go, mashed her fingertip against Puck’s clit then rode it all out as Puck came hard.
Quinn took her time, withdrawing her tongue then licking Puck’s pussy like she was trying to wring it dry, lathing Puck’s clit with her tongue long after Puck had come again, after Puck had nothing left to give. She kissed her way back up and they were mouth to mouth, Quinn groaning softly at the taste of herself on Puck’s tongue mixing with Puck’s.
“Fuck, Quinn,” Puck chuckled after their lips broke apart. “Where the FUCK did you learn to do that?”
“I..” Quinn wagged her eyebrows. “Have many skills.” Then dove in for another kiss and didn’t stop until they were both panting breathless.
“Yeah, well keep that to yourself. I have a reputation to keep.”
“Are you saying I eat pussy better than the great Puck Puckerman?”
“Pfft,” Puck snorted. “Nobody eats pussy better than I do.”
“We could always have a pussy eating competition,” Quinn laughed, resting her head onto Puck’s shoulder. “Like pie eating but with more orgasms.”
“Now *that* is a competition I could get into. Fuck, that gets me wet just thinking about it.”
“Puck!” Quinn lifted her head, gazing down at Puck, like she could already see the wheels turning in the brunette’s mind. “We are *not* having a pussy eating competition!”
Puck tilted her head towards Quinn, all Cheshire cat, shit eating grin on her face. “We weren’t supposed to fuck. Look where that got us.”
“Puck..” Quinn sighed, shaking her head in resignation before laying it back onto Puck’s shoulder. Best to just not say anything and hope Puck would forget everything she said than argue the point. So, Quinn said nothing, draping her arm over Puck’s stomach and snuggling closer. The quiet that settled between them this time was comfortable, easy. As Quinn’s eyes lazily drifted closed, as she listened to the bird’s, the leaves softly rustling from the wind, the tiny waves lapping at the shore and, underneath it all, the steady beat of Puck’s heart, Quinn thought she could definitely get used to this.
Dawn awoke an hour or so before dawn, legs tangled with the extra blanket Puck had draped over them, Puck’s arm draped over her stomach as Puck spooned her from behind. Puck was always the big spoon.
She draped her hand over Puck’s, let her thumb lightly graze over the skin. An uneasiness began to seep into her. Dawn was approaching, one day ending as the other began. A new day where Quinn would contemplate what she’d done. A new day and Quinn could already feel the regret and guilt weighing down on her, having done another of the many things she’d sworn never to do again.
Things were different now. Quinn was different.
So was Puck.
She felt Puck stirring and, instinctively, Quinn tensed.
“Hey,” Puck mumbled, kissing the back of Quinn’s neck. “What’s wrong?”
Quinn exhaled, sighing like she’d been found out. She rolled onto her back, daring her eyes to find Puck’s face. “What do we do now?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean,” she paused, pursing her lips. “You have Lauren. I have.. whatever. And last night, we..”
“Hey..” Puck cut her off with a kiss. “Don’t you know? Summer’s like Vegas. Whatever happens during the summer, stays during the summer. For three months..” she paused, dragging her lips along the pulse of Quinn’s neck. “We can be who we want. Do who we want, when we want and it doesn’t count.”
Quinn groaned as Puck’s fingers found her breast, thumb rolling Quinn’s nipple. “That kind of logic only makes sense in Puck-ville.”
“Fine,” Puck chuckled, lips moving across the swell of Quinn’s breasts. “Then say you were helping me train for the Puck-lympics.”
“Puck-lympics, it’s like the Olympics but with more fucking. Of course, there are only two actual games, MILF hunting and there’s my personal favorite, pussy eating. And baby?” Puck paused, grabbing the blanket and draping it over her head, eyes glinting playfully as she descended. “I‘m going for gold.”
“Puck..” What ever retort Quinn thought of died in the back of her throat the moment her thighs were placed over Puck’s shoulders and Puck’s tongue pressed flat against her pussy.
Quinn never planned for this to happen. She could no longer deny she wanted this to happen. If she was going to be bad or wrong or dirty, better it be with Puck. With Puck, she felt safe. With Puck, it felt *right*.
She knew their time was limited. School would eventually start and the facades, like so many sliding doors, would slip into place whether Quinn wanted them to or not.
But, they still had the summer. Like Puck said, Summer’s like Vegas. The time when Quinn could rewrite herself, be someone else, be someone new. And Quinn could think of worse things to do all summer than help Puck train for silver in the pussy eating portion of the Puck-lympics. It would be silver because when it came to that..
Quinn had no intention of letting Puck win gold.