Here's another chaper. Thanks to everyone who's still reading this and special thanks to those who review. It's one of the only ways I know if people still care about this story. I apologize in advance for what you are about to read. I promise to get better...
Mercedes wanted Sam to tell her why he didn't call her or respond to her texts. Offer an explanation as to why he was ignoring her. Talk to her about where he went or how he was, the weather, sports. Anything really. Besides those few comments about her dress (which she was glad he noticed), he didn't say anything else or spare a glance in her direction since they got in her car. Mercedes tapped her hands on the steering wheel in an effort to not look at him. God, this was awkward. And he still wasn't saying anything. Just kept staring out the window like she didn't exist. Was that what he was doing? Pretending she was invisible? She imagined his neck would have a crick in it with the way he was trying to avoid looking at her. And after ten minutes of stubborn silence on her own part, she regretted ever asking him if he wanted a ride. Why did he ever agree to this in the first place?
Heaving a sigh, she put on the radio. Anything was better than the silence that was suffocating her.
Turning the dial, she smiled and leaned back into her seat at the old song that started to play.
And she regretted that decision as soon as she heard the tinny song through her speakers.
These arms of mine
They are lonely, lonely and feeling blue
These arms of mine
They are yearning, yearning from wanting you
She began humming along to the song. The same song Sam sang to her in the boutique last summer, back when she was just Mercedes and he was just Sam. Back when he would watch her lock up and they would dance and talk. Where her day would be made by him walking her to her aunt's house. Back when their relationship was full of promise.
And if you would let them hold you
Oh, how grateful I will be
These arms of mine
They are burning, burning from wanting you
These arms of mine
They are wanting, wanting to hold you
Sam swallowed the emotion that tasted bitterly of regret. Why was it so hard to do the right thing? To leave her alone and avoid a scandal? And why did this song have to play on the radio? Ever day since she decided to let go of him his world had been a little darker, a little duller.
Mercedes thought someone needed to call Oxford or Webster and have them redefine torture. Because nothing was worse than being next to the one person you wanted more than anything and not being able to have him. Knowing you loved each other and due to some unforeseen complication your love couldn't be acted on. Like it was wrong or dirty or immoral.
And if you would let them hold you
Oh, how grateful I will be
Come on, come on baby
Just be my little woman, just be my lover
I need me somebody, somebody to treat me right
I need your loving arms,
Loving arms to hold me tight
And I need your tender lips too
Hold me, hold me.*
He didn't know how it happened but his hand had found hers. His eyes had closed and he could hear himself singing the last few lyrics with an emotion that was purely him. And all too soon she moved her hand from his and kept on her journey.
It hurt. But not nearly as much as hearing her voice laced in pain.
"Why?"
He turned to her, wounded, angry, and confused. "Why what?"
"Why didn't you respond to my texts or emails? Let me know you were okay? I get that we can't be together but that doesn't mean you can't talk to me."
"Mercedes, that's exactly what it means. I can't be friends with you. I can't pretend I don't love you when you're sitting two feet in front of me in class or pretend you're just some student when I know how you feel against me. How you taste. The little moans you make for me."
Heat suffused all through her body and a weird and all too familiar pressure pooled between her thighs making her squirm and take a deep breath. "Sam." She said his name with equal parts desire and derision.
"It hurts too much. Being around you hurts too much."
"Sam." Her pained voice matched his own.
"But I can't turn down an opportunity to be close to you. It's killing me but I need to be near you. I look for you in everything. I miss you." He said the words as she pulled into his apartment complex.
And she killed the engine and closed her eyes against them. Tried to erect walls to stave off their impact. But it was no use. He'd dealt a direct hit and she was just as tattered as she'd been the first time she let him go. "I miss you too."
Yep, someone needed to get in touch with the folks at Webster's.
Sam squeezed her leg and grabbed his bag. Before propriety got the best of him he turned to her again. "It's kind of late. I'd feel like an asshole if I didn't offer you a cup of coffee before you hit the road again.
She sighed and rubbed her hands on her legs. "Yeah. Actually coffee would be great." Coffee would be perfect if it meant a few more minutes with him.
They walked up the door to his apartment in silence, both with a subconscious fear that they were at some point of no return.
Mercedes sat on his sofa and watched him set the coffee maker. If possible the place was more barren than the last time she was here. Her picture was replaced with a stack of newspapers. A sense of dread washed over her. What if he planned on leaving after this year? What if she never saw him again? Mercedes hated when she worried about things she couldn't control or questions that had no easy answers. She thanked Sam when he set the cup of coffee in front of her, smiling when she noted he added the French Vanilla creamer that she loved.
"Why weren't you at school this week?" Her voice was unsteady, unsure she really wanted the answer.
"My friend had a family crisis." He looked over at her, took a deep breath and told her everything. Told her how the Fabrays and Evans were old friends. Told her about Beth. Ignored the soft look on her face when he talked about Quinn's daughter and told her about how grateful he was for his family. Told her how worried he was for the girl and how scared he was that they wouldn't find a match, or her biological father, in time. Then he surrendered when she held him. Closed his eyes when she rubbed his back and laid her head in the crook of his neck.
It was more comfort than he deserved and he selfishly took it all, knowing he may never get to hold her like this again. He wanted to tell her about his plans but they were lost on his tongue. She didn't need 'what-ifs,' and 'possibly,' she deserved concrete plans. In that moment his job search zeroed in on New York. And when he found something she would be the first person he'd share it with.
Sam was melting into her and she was fighting to keep it together. He was right, this hurt too much. Holding him like this made her acutely aware of what they couldn't have. And although he needed comfort, she wasn't strong enough to give it to him. Not without ruining everything. "Sam? I can't do this." She bit her lip and put the coffee mug down.
He recoiled. He didn't want to make this any worse than it was. She was right. They were pushing their luck. Really it was a miracle no one had caught them yet with all the time they spent together and the way he looked at her. She had done him a favor and he dumped all of his problems on her. Kept her out late knowing she had a 45 minute car ride home. He nodded in understanding and was prepared to walk her out to her car.
Her mind still couldn't reconcile that the boy from the summer was gone. Could never be hers. Not in any way that meant something. He was off limits. And all of their dreams and plans went away with him too. No more crying about her loss. This could be the last time Mercedes spent time with Sam. It was all too much. If this was all they had she wanted to be close to him one last time. Against all good judgment (and despite all consequences) she leaned forward and pressed her lips to his. And as soon as she did, she regretted the action. What was she doing? She stood up brushing a piece of her hair back and stepped away from him. "I'm so sorry Mr. Evans. I just—I got." She shook her head. This was so embarrassing! "It'll never happen again."
Sam sat there stunned. His lips tingled from her chocolate mint gloss. From the nearness of her. From the loss of her. He traced where her lips rested on his for a second, eagerly seeking her warmth. All too quickly she was leaving him again. Her hand was already on the door. "Mercedes. Wait."
Mercedes turned around and watched as he stood in front of her in a few quick strides. Before she could say anything he leaned forward and grabbed her neck, his mouth slanting over hers.
It was fire and ice with him. Her brain begging her to push him away while her heart, her hands, her greedy little mouth demanded more.
So she obeyed her body because she couldn't ignore it anymore. She grabbed for him. Slid her hands across his chest, up his arms, around his neck. Gripped his hair in her fingers. Let her other hand explore his back and circle the adorable little dimples above his ass. His sweet little moans spurred her on.
Her body was buzzing from touching him but somehow she still wasn't close enough. And when he pulled back and rested his forehead on hers she was a little too embarrassed to acknowledge the little whine she produced.
Mercedes held on to this naive belief that some pain now would be worth it later. That if they kept their distance, suffered a little, in a few months or maybe years the stars would align and they could truly be together. What an arrogant way to live! She was right a few weeks ago…tomorrow wasn't promised. Love wasn't something that could be put down and picked back up again when it was convenient. She couldn't turn it off like she wanted to and honesty she wouldn't even if she could. The way she loved Sam was refusing to be ignored. She may not have any answers, may not have been following the rules but she couldn't go against her own heart. Not anymore. Not when doing so made her lose who she was.
She was breathing heavy, her eyes trained on his pink mouth as he tried to catch his breath. She played with the hair at the nape of his neck and looked into his eyes. "I'm tired of worrying about the future. Of counting down until I graduate so we can be together. Of marking time until I have to leave again. I just want to be with you. For as long as I can. I don't have to have the rest figured out right now. But you need to know no matter our circumstances I will choose you. Always."
Her bones were melting, every synapse in her body was transcending this plane. Her thoughts went to him. Being with him. Loving him. And she couldn't let it go.
Everything about him called to her. Calmed her. Beckoned her home.
Sam held her closer, imprinted her to him. For him it was easy to break the rules. Especially when following them meant being without her. He had to be with her. There were so many things he was unsure of—how they could stay away from each other, how they could last while she went away. But the one constant, all that mattered, was his need for her.
And he told her that. "But we do need to figure this out. I can't let you go. I want to keep you. I want to be with you. I need you. I Love you. And no matter how difficult our situation is I've held onto that. We can figure this out. You and me. We can be together."
Mercedes kissed him this time, with everything she had. Sam picked up her leg and lined it against his pelvis where he throbbed and ached for her. Instinctively she wrapped her other leg around his waist. Her head fell back when she ground down on the spot her body craved. Yes.
He moaned and moved them back over to the couch all stumbling and fidgety. He settled on top of her. His fingers glided over her calves and under her dress up her thighs until their tips pressed against the flesh on her hips. Her mouth went to his collarbone flicking and licking the salty skin there. To his spot behind his ear, pressing kisses and whispering promises. He continued to grind against her, relishing in her soft moans.
And when he hooked a finger on the waistband of her panties, he waited for her to stop him. Instead she lifted her hips, her gaze steady with his. She took her hands under his shirt, slowly lifting it and lightly scratching his abs. Ever the multi-tasker, she kept her mouth fused with his, her tongue gently then feverishly caressing his.
Sam was losing his mind. Her touches, her hands, her mouth and he forgot all about being responsible. Instead his hands went to one of his favorite places. And he pulled back when she gasped and arched into him. It was the hottest thing ever and it egged him on.
She arched into him, focused on his long leisurely then short and intense strokes. She was in bliss. And when he added another magic finger and began using his thumb to play with her clit, she screamed his name.
But when he swung her legs over the sofa and replaced his fingers with his tongue and mouth, she forgot her own name.
She clamped onto the armrest, her mouth biting down on the throw pillow as the little ball of pressure in her belly tightened and tightened.
"Sam!" She called him again when it snapped, giving credit where credit was due. Her hand moved from the armrest to his hair. Her legs were tingly and fell limp beside her as she struggled to catch her breath.
He moaned as her essence spilled into his mouth. The sweet musky taste of her assaulting his senses. And like a happy little boy getting his favorite treat he didn't waste a drop. He thought nothing could be better than this.
He was wrong.
While he was feasting and sucking on her clit she was groping for his zipper and grabbing for his dick. Resourceful girl that she was, she found it and unzipped him right before falling apart by his mouth again.
He unzipped his pants, pulled down his boxers and stood fully erect in front of her.
She took him in, all strong and beautiful and sexy. She looked at his eyes, watched his pupils dilate and darken. Slowly standing up (because she still wasn't at 100%) she turned around offering him her back. Then she moved her hair so that he could have better access to her zipper.
"Unzip me?" Her voice brokered no disagreement though he could feel the slight vacillation in her movements.
This was his out. He could stop this now. Find his way back to practicality.
Only problem was her taste was still on his tongue and he could hardly think about anything but driving into her and showing her one of the many ways they fit together. Of holding her and pretending they could stay in their bubble forever.
So with shaky hands he unzipped her slowly and moved his hands to rest on her hips where he moved them to the bedroom.
But when they got there he couldn't imaging rushing this. So he didn't. He sat her on the edge of the bed and ran his hands down her legs. Her hands were on his shoulders and her eyes were still a little glazed over, though her smile let him know she was enjoying this.
She even turned her ankle to him when he went to unfasten her heels. Then he went for the other shoe.
He took his time with her. Moving his lips to her toes, her ankles and behind her knees. Massaging and nipping the skin on her thighs lifting his hands to remove her bra and removing it expeditiously. Paying homage to her breasts by licking and sucking them into his mouth. And he enjoyed watching her squirm and hearing her moan.
By the time he got to her mouth she was unraveled. Her heart was pounding and she was trying to relieve that pressure that began building again.
But she wanted to touch him. So she peppered kisses down his neck and his torso. She licked down the light blonde trail on his navel and traced the bulbous vein that traveled from the base of his dick to the tip, sucking up the pre-cum that formed there.
"Mercedes" his low anguished cry spurred her own and she sucked on his tip with more pressure. She could hear him sloppily grab a condom and rip the wrapper open with his teeth.
He couldn't wait so he brought her up to him and entered her in one swift move.
Mercedes moaned deeply at the base of her throat. She didn't hype it up in her mind. Sex with Sam was better than she remembered.
She grabbed his bicep and held his gaze.
His muscles flexed over her, his slow and steady teasing and torturous strokes began to pick up pace and she began to respond with her own urgency. His deep groans filled the air. He grabbed for her hand, and twisted his hips, changing positions.
The deeper he went the further away he felt. The closer this got to ending. The closer to reality they would arrive.
30 minutes ago they were talking over coffee. How did they get here?
And now with her orgasm and his directly behind it, how were they ever supposed to get back?
* Otis Redding, These Arms of Mine