Thank you for your kind support.
Standard disclaimer.
Over the next two weeks, things progressed as planned for Mercedes and Sam.
To the public and the Nationals, their relationship was a blossoming love affair, of epic proportions.
Even Miss Wilde, was starting to think, that something real was going on between them.
"Are you taking her to buy a gown for the Christmas event?" she asked, eyeing him above the rim of her glasses.
Sam pressed the up arrow on the treadmill, hoping to drown out Miss Wilde's voice and his own internal annoying-as-hell voice.
They'd done the required three dates a week and the stay-over on the weekend, but since the night on the couch, things had been tense.
It wasn't that they weren't getting along, because they were. They were getting along 'famously,' as Miss Wilde had put it.
Yesterday, he'd taken Mercedes to the clubhouse and taught her how to hold a curve-ball, a change-up, and a fastball.
But she was ridiculously horrible at positioning her fingers, to the point, it was entertaining.
Afterwards, they'd had lunch at Hooters down the road, with Noah.
Noah liked her, more than Sam appreciated, which was stupid, because, God knows, they didn't want to 'complicate' things.
Though things were already fucking complicated.
Not to mention, he was jerking off like he was in damn high school again.
Thirty years old, a pro athlete, and richer than sin, and he was jerking off every day, instead of getting off in a woman. That's what his life had come down to.
But, the even more fucked up thing was, he still could get a piece if he wanted to. Hell, he knew how to be discreet when he chose...but he didn't.
He didn't want anyone except that curvy vixen.
Mercedes consumed his thoughts, whether she was with him or away.
For two weeks, he'd been in a constant state of arousal, that had only been whetted by what had taken place between them.
"Sam!" snapped Miss Wilde. She leaned over the arm of the treadmill and hit the emergency stop button.
At the last minute, he caught himself, before he ate the tread.
"Jesus!"
"Not quite." She folded her arms. "Have you been listening to me at all?"
"Yes."
He grabbed the towel off the front and stepped off the treadmill, mopping up his sweat.
"I'm taking her out later today, before dinner, to one of those damn places you picked out, that's going to cost me a month's salary."
Miss Wilde nodded her approval.
"Mercedes will like the place."
"How do you know what she likes?" He tore off his shirt and tossed it into a laundry basket.
And Miss Wilde was so not affected, by any partial nudity on his end. She was all business.
She followed him out into the kitchen.
"I like her, you know." Grabbing a bottle of water, he raised a brow at her.
"Your friends seem to like her, now you seem to like her." He downed half of the bottle. "What are you getting at?"
Miss Wilde shrugged her bony shoulders.
"All I'm saying, is that you two are really convincing."
"Whatever," he said a little too loud.
"Well, the good news is, the Nationals are beyond pleased with you."
A proud smile tilted the corners of her lips, and she looked almost human for a moment.
"The Christmas event they've planned, should seal the deal. You should be happy about this. There's only a week and some odd days left."
He should be, but for some reason, he wasn't happy about it.
"Of course, you're not getting rid of me that easily."
'Of course not.' Sam rolled his eyes.
"I'll stay on, to make sure you maintain your image," she continued. "If we play our cards right, we'll get the public's sympathy, after your split from Miss Jones."
Sam's eyes narrowed.
"Oh, so we're going to make her the villain in all of this?"
"Better than you coming out the bad guy, right?" Miss Wilde frowned. "What? Does that bother you?"
Sam didn't say anything, because honestly, what did this woman think of him, if she thought he'd be okay with that?
There was nothing she could say, that would get him to let Mercedes take the blame. Contract or no.
After a while, Miss Wilde left, passing his older brother Sawyer on the way out.
The two came to a complete standstill in the foyer. Neither would move out of the way, of the other.
There couldn't be two more obstinate people in the world, Sam realized.
He decided to left them, to figure how to enter and exit at the same time.
Later, it turned out, Mercedes did love the Little Boutique on 27th Avenue.
She floated from one rack of sparkly dresses to another, while he sat in one of those chairs, that reminded him of a throne...a pink throne, that someone's grandmother took a Bedazzler to.
Through narrowed eyes, he watched her look over the accessories first.
She had her eye on a necklace, that appeared to be a real garnet, dangling from a silver chain.
She kept running her fingers over it, and he thought the stone would look exquisite on brown skin.
What the hell was he thinking?
A necklace that would match her skin? God, he sounded like Stevie.
She finally moved over to the dresses, going straight for a deep, red one, that looked like it would hug her curves. He hoped she picked that one.
His gaze dropped to her sweet, round ass, and he had to look away, before things got real awkward up in here.
At the counter, two clerks were giggling and whispering, as they stared at him.
Taking a deep breath, he went back to staring at Mercedes, as he slid farther down in his pink throne, spreading his thighs wide to get a little more comfortable.
He saw her pick up the tag and then frown. Then, she dropped the dress.
"Mercedes?"
She looked over her shoulder at him.
Her hair was pulled up in a high ponytail and a bright red and purple silk scarf, was intricately tied around her neck.
"What?"
"I liked that dress." He nodded at the red one she'd held.
Walking over to him, she straightened the edges on the scarf.
"I do, too."
"Then try it on."
She bit down on her plump lip, and he was jealous. He wanted to bite it...lick it.
"It's too expensive."
He reached into the pocket of his jeans and pulled out a lollipop he'd taken from the counter, when they came in.
"How much is it?"
"You don't even want to know." Tearing off the wrapper, he popped the sweet in his mouth.
"How much?"
"Too much," she replied.
"How much, Mercedes?" She sighed and her eyes narrowed.
"It's a little shy of fifteen hundred." Sam didn't even blink.
"Try it on."
"But..."
"Try it on." When she didn't budge, he arched a brow. "Or I will."
Her stern expression slipped away, as she giggled.
"Is that supposed to convince me? I'd die to see you in that dress."
Sam swirled the lollipop around, eyes narrowing.
"I'll try it on right here, in front of the two nice ladies up front. You know, by the counter and the glass windows."
"Go ahead," she said, but when he raised both brows, she rolled her eyes and made a sound of disgust. "Fine."
When she spun around, he got an eyeful of the frustrated little twitch in her step and his lips split into a grin.
Biting into the hard candy, he watched her stalk passed him, with the dress in hand, shooting him a dark look.
Of course, the moment he heard the soft click of the dressing room door, pictures of her stripping her clothes off filled his head.
Images of her wiggling that ass out of those jeans and unhooking her bra, because that dress was strapless, teased him.
He felt himself swell, as he shifted in the blitzed-out throne.
Twice now, Mercedes had stopped things, right before the real fun could get started.
Complicate things?
As if the whole situation wasn't already complicated as fuck.
So why not just do what they both wanted? Because he knew she wanted him.
As he sat there, the stupidest shit popped into his head.
He thought about his father. Now that was a man, who had pretty much done whatever he wanted, when he wanted.
Not that his father's behavior was something to look up to.
Hell, the way his father had behaved, was as if, the world was one giant playground built just for him.
And it had fucked with all their heads.
It was why Stevie had stayed away from Marley, as long as he had and why Sawyer was a controlling, obstinate fuck.
And it was why he acted like...well, like the world was his playground.
'Fuck!'
Sitting up straighter, he thought what a fucked-up place to have such a realization.
He was sitting on a damn pink throne. And you'd think that would've changed what he was about to do, but it didn't.
He was pissed, confused, and horny. Not a good combination.
Sam stood up and tossed the ladies up front a grin and a wink.
"I'm going to help her zip her dress."
One of them giggled.
"You do that."
Swaggering back down the hall, he knocked on the door and then immediately opened it.
The curve of a brown back greeted him. There was a freckle right beside her spine.
Yeah, he was going to get up close and personal with that freckle.
Mercedes gasped and jerked around, clutching the front of the red dress to her breasts. Her eyes widened when she saw him.
"What are you doing?"
"Remember when I said, I was being a good boy? Well, now I'm being naughty."
"Sam!" Her voice came out in a hushed whisper. "We're in a dressing room. There are people right out the..."
"I don't care."
He caught her arms, totally not missing the flare of heat in her eyes.
'Oh, baby, you have a naughty girl in you.' "There is something I need to do."
Mercedes opened her mouth, probably to ask a shit-ton worth of questions, because, the woman was inquisitive as hell, but he silenced her words with his mouth.
Kissing her, he didn't hold back.
He claimed her, forcing her lips open, and just when her body started to tremble, he pulled back and flipped her around, so that her back was against his front.
"We shouldn't be doing this," she said, but her voice was husky and betrayed her needs.
He slid the material down her hips, letting it pool around her ankles.
Then, he kissed that freckle and when he licked it, her back arched.
He straightened, dragging his hands up her sides. He could see her in the mirror, the dark tips of her breasts pebbled, begging for him.
Who was he to deny her?
He cupped her breasts in both hands, from behind and lowered his head, his breath stirring tiny strands of hair.
"I like the dress." Mercedes' eyes were only half open.
"You didn't even see me in it."
"I saw enough to know, you'd look good out of the dress." He rolled her nipples between his fingers, causing her to jerk. "So, yeah, I like the dress."
Her breath began to come out in short rasps.
"Sam, we need to stop this. This isn't..."
She grabbed at his hands, but he easily caught her wrists in one hand.
Holding them captured under her breasts, he placed a kiss against her thundering pulse.
"This isn't what? Something that you want? Bullshit. You want it."
A shudder rocked her body, and her lashes lowered completely, fanning her heated cheeks.
Sam smiled against her exposed neck, as he slid his free hand down her belly, loving the softness of her skin.
When his fingers reached the band on her panties, she tried to pull her hands free.
"Oh, no, you're not going anywhere." He kissed the spot below her ear and was rewarded with a shiver. "We're going to do this...right now."
In the mirror, he could see her teeth clamped down on her plump lower lip and he knew he had her.
"Open your eyes," he ordered. "I want you to watch me."
Mercedes' lashes lifted.
"See what I'm doing?" Slipping a hand between her spread thighs, he slid his fingers under the satiny panties. "You like that?"
Heat flared, turning her eyes a very dark shade of brown.
"Yes," she gasped.
Brushing over her damp folds, he groaned deep in his throat. She was already wet and ready for him.
For. Him.
"Well, you're really going to like this." He eased a finger in her, and it didn't take much.
Her hips immediately rolled into the rhythm, her ass pressing back against his manhood, over and over, and if he wasn't careful, it was going to be a very awkward walk out of the boutique.
When Sam felt Mercedes' muscles starting to tremble, he let go of her wrists and placed his hand over her mouth, silencing her cries.
She surprised him, though, when she sucked one of his fingers into her mouth, as she came. He felt that all the way to the tip of his penis.
Letting her go, when he was sure she wouldn't collapse, he put distance between them.
Perhaps, this wasn't one of his brightest ideas.
The smell of her clung to him, he could still feel her pushing back against him, and now he wanted nothing more, than to just take her to the floor.
Against the mirror. Fuck, anywhere.
Mercedes stared at him, cheeks flushed and eyes glazed, breathing raggedly.
"What about you?"
His lips twisted into a smirk.
"That'll just complicate things."
"Sam..." He stopped at the door.
"Does the dress fit?"
"Yes, but..."
"Good. We're getting it." He opened the door and pinned her with one last look.
Man, if he stared at her any longer, he was going to have her on her knees, or on her back.
"And don't argue with me about it," he ended.
She looked so damn sexy standing there, naked, with the exception of her panties and her chin jutting out stubbornly.
Yeah, he needed to get the fuck out of the dressing room, now.
So he dipped out, closing the door behind him.
Too bad getting her out of his head, wasn't as easy as shutting a door.
Stay safe!