Thank you for you continued interest and support. I appreciate it. I do not own Glee or the characters, neither do I own Stuck-Up Suit.

Bonus chapter because you guys are awesome!

Brace yourselves...

SAM

I should've been working instead of fucking around. My desk was piled with stacks of documents, and there were at least a hundred emails in my inbox that I needed to respond to.

But here I was, writing to a sixty-year-old advice columnist...well, more so to her snarky, sexy assistant.

Again.

Dear Sue,

The woman I've been seeing has recently expressed an interest in being tied up. I was wondering if you could provide some guidance for a first-time bondage novice. Would rope be a good investment? Or would you suggest something along the lines of fur-lined handcuffs? Perhaps some silk ties that are less likely to leave marks on her wrists? I should note that I plan to bury my face in her tight little you know what...so there will be a good deal of tugging on the restraints while she is writhing on the bed from multiple orgasms.

-Fifty Shades of Sammy, Manhattan

It only took twenty minutes for a response to appear in my inbox.

I had expected a lengthy response full of her usual sarcasm. But I should've known better than to think I could anticipate anything to do with Mercedes Jones.

Dear Fifty,

Might I suggest checking your partner's bedside table? Perhaps, since this woman you're seeing has expressed an interest, she went shopping after lunch for some supplies.

I groaned long and mournfully low. This woman was going to be the death of me; I just knew it.

An hour later, my secretary buzzed in through the intercom.

"Mr. Evans? You have a phone call on line three."

"Didn't I ask not to be interrupted?"

"Yes. But they said it was urgent."

"Who is it, and what do they want?"

"Umm...I didn't ask."

"Listen…" What the hell was her name again? Elaine? God damn it! "The bulk of your job is to screen phone calls, am I correct?"

"Yes."

"And would you consider interrupting me when I've asked not to be interrupted, without having the name of the caller, doing your job correctly?"

"I…"

My patience was running thin.

"Find out the name of the caller and the nature of the so-called urgent matter!"

A minute later the intercom buzzed again.

"What?"

"It's a Mrs. Taylor. She said to tell you the nature of her emergency is that her husband is dead."

I picked up the phone.

"Jennifer."

"Sam. I need your help."

"I'm working on it. I told you that yesterday."

"I need more than that."

I took off my glasses and tossed them on my desk.

Scrubbing my hands over my face, I inhaled a deep breath. It has been years since I've had a civil conversation with this woman, but contrary to popular belief, I wasn't a total prick.

She has just lost her husband to a heart attack...at the age of thirty-one.

Leaning back in my chair, I exhaled a breath of venom and sucked in fresh compassion.

"What can I do for you, Jennifer?"

"I don't want to run a company by myself. I can't do it."

"Of course you can. You'll hire someone you can trust if it's overwhelming."

"I trust you, Sam."

'I used to fucking trust you, too.'

It was physically painful to bite my tongue, but I did it anyway.

"You're not in a state to discuss business right now."

"I'm always in a state to discuss business. So are you. It's the one thing we have in common. Our emotions take a backseat to a deal."

"I think you're wrong, and you're just unable to see that clearly right now. But what is it you think you'd like me to help with?"

"I want to merge with Evans Financial Holdings."

"You want me to buy Taylor's Investments? As in take it over completely?"

"No. Taylor's Investments and Evans Financial Holdings combined would be a powerhouse. I want to run it with you."

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me right. I want to merge. Be a team again."

"Jennifer, I don't want to be tactless, but…you just lost your husband. Don't you think you should take some time before seeking a new teammate? Grieve a little perhaps? You're not thinking clearly."

She sighed.

"Callum and I were separated."

"I wasn't aware."

"I caught him fucking my twenty-three-year-old assistant."

"I'm sorry to hear that."

"No, you're not. You're thinking what comes around goes around. I would be, too."

Surprisingly, I actually wasn't.

"You still suffered a loss. Your daughter must need you right now. Let me finish freezing out shareholders from acquiring too much stock, and keep your leverage safe. We can discuss business after you've had time to think clearly."

"That's Sam-speak for we'll have a conversation after I've already decided what I want."

"Jennifer, go be with your family. Business can wait."

"Fine. But check your calendar. You have an appointment this Friday with a Ms. Mayberry at ten...it'll say it's a referral from Brant Shaw. It's not. That's me. I made the appointment two weeks ago, so I was planning on coming to you about this anyway."

"I'll see you at the service tonight, Jennifer."

After I hung up, I clicked on my calendar, and sure enough, there was an appointment for a new client consultation with a Ms. Mayberry on Friday.

And it was indeed noted as a referral from Brant Shaw.

I had to hand it to her. Normally, I would call someone who refers a new client and flush out some information on the referral. But Jennifer was smart. She knew there was no way I was calling Brant Shaw.

There was no such thing as a ten-minute call with that man. He would've had me on the phone for three hours and made it impossible to decline a dinner invitation before I hung up, too.

Unable to concentrate, I decided to go to the gym for a while. Running and lifting always helped me clear my mind.

Around mile three on the treadmill, my head was still spinning. And flashes of my life were flickering through my mind randomly.

Mercedes' eyes fluttering open this morning as she laid snuggled in my bed. Smiling as she found me looking at her...

Jennifer and I popping open a bottle of champagne in the office, the night our asset management portfolio reached a billion dollars for the first time...

Mercedes, kneeling and looking up at me as she slid that ball of silver around the head of my shaft...

Walking into Jennifer's office after arriving back early from a business trip, ready to celebrate another closed deal. And finding her kneeling, taking Callum's dick down her throat...

I ran faster and faster.

But the faster I went, the faster the flash just played in my head.

Watching Puck's needle pierce my skin and the ink bleed over Jennifer's name...

Callum and I, arm in arm, watching as they hung the first sign at our office three weeks after graduation...

My mother...

My mother, frail, lying in the hospital bed, trying to pretend she was fine...

What the fuck?

I ran faster.

Mercedes' feather tattoo...

Jennifer sitting on the corner of my desk...

Callum running next to me on the treadmill...

I looked to my left. Fucking Callum was running next to me. The vision was so clear, for a heartbeat I really thought it was him.

When I finally stopped, I had been running so fast, it took me a full five minutes to catch my breath.

Leaning down with my hands on my knees as I panted, sweat dripping from everywhere, I squeezed my eyes shut.

Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Just when everything finally started to seem so simple, why did it suddenly feel so complicated?

I had no idea at the time, but the feeling was a premonition of things to come.

I wasn't a huge drinker and never took drugs. Sex was my only vice. And when I was stressed out, I needed it even more.

Like a fiend.

I knew I shouldn't have been thinking about screwing Mercedes on the way to a wake, but I couldn't help myself.

She looked absolutely stunning in that little black dress.

She'd done her hair up, even though I knew she didn't like it that way. But she probably felt that she needed to hide the colored tips again.

She looked nervous, too.

Fuck! But that rare vulnerability she was exhibiting made me want to screw her senseless even more.

The divider separating us from the driver was completely closed, and that wasn't helping.

And the temptation to lift her onto my lap was getting stronger by the minute.

She must've been reading my mind when she said,

"You look like you want to attack me, Evans."

"Would you lose respect for me if I told you, that despite where we're headed tonight, all I can think about is slipping your panties off and letting you come on my face?"

"I already know you're a dirty bastard. So, that's not surprising. But this just might be a new low for you," she joked.

"Something you'll figure out about me...but when I'm under stress, I get particularly horny. Sex diverts my mind from whatever is bothering me. It's really the only thing that helps."

"I see. Are you looking for my help, Mr. Evans?"

"Don't call me Mr. Evans unless you're going for a submissive vibe...in which case, I'll be more than happy to take you over my knee right now. We could play that game if you want."

My thoughts trailed off as I became mesmerized by her slightly parted lips.

"God, I want to do the nasty with your mouth right now."

She seemed to squirm in her seat.

"Do you now?"

"Yes. And go down on you. We can liken it to stress eating."

She burst into laughter.

"Glad you think it's funny because I am ten seconds from burying my face underneath that dress."

"We can't. We're going to be at the funeral parlor any minute."

My voice sounded thick and needy as I slid my hand underneath her dress, caressing her thigh.

"Not if we agree to be late."

"You're serious?"

Instead of answering her, I picked up the phone to call my driver.

"Mitch, we're not quite ready to head to the funeral home. We'd like you to just drive around for a while. Circle back here in about thirty minutes."

"No problem, Mr. Evans."

Mercedes bit her lip and shook her head in disbelief at me, and that made my dick swell even harder.

I couldn't go to a wake with a hard on. So, this was an urgent matter that needed to be dealt with.

Her back was against the leather seat.

Perfect.

Sliding the material of her dress up her thighs, I knelt between her legs and spread her knees apart.

Slowly removing her lace thong with my teeth, I could feel the wetness on the material against my tongue.

God, she was drenched.

Her ass writhed and I wasted no time moving my tongue in a slow up and down motion over her.

I wasn't just using the tip, but rather the entire length of my tongue to devour her, stopping only long enough to suck on her little bundle of nerves.

She'd never been this wet for me.

Ever.

She ran her long fingernails through my hair and pulled.

My mouth was covered in her arousal as I kept at it before deciding that I couldn't take it anymore. Sticking two fingers inside of her, I moved them in and out as I looked up into her glazed-over eyes.

"I really need to be inside you."

"Yes. Please…" she muttered.

Oh, I could definitely get used to Mercedes Jones begging.

Unzipping my trousers, I let them fall halfway down my legs before repositioning her so that she was on top.

The leather was cold beneath me. And within seconds, she bore down on my stiff as board shaft, causing my eyes to roll back.

Her dress inched up to her waist, leaving her bare ass exposed as she rode me while I looked up into her eyes.

The feel of sinking into her had been just as incredible as I imagined it would be. And I couldn't help pulling out the pins in her hair...undoing her up-do...and watching the tresses fall as she bounced on top of me.

Just like the night of the gala, she didn't protest; I knew she didn't want it up anyway.

The other times we've had sex seemed gentle in comparison to this town car experience. This was rougher, carnal…pure, unadulterated screwing at its best.

When she let out a stifled moan, I came harder than I could ever remember coming.

It felt so good to let out the tension that had been building all day.

Nothing...not even my strenuous workout...had been able to soothe me like being inside of Mercedes had.

Not only that, but Callum's death was a harsh and painful reminder of my own mortality and a reminder of what was important.

Life was simply too short not to have sex like this all of the damn time.

"We're both a mess now," Mercedes said as she got off me.

"I swear to God. You've never looked more beautiful to me, Mercedes."

It was the truth.

Her face was flushed and a little sweaty and her hair a mess.

This was pure joy in the face of death. I was so grateful not to have to face this night alone.

And so grateful to be alive.

She took out her compact and looked into the mirror.

"I went from looking prim and proper to looking like a disheveled mess."

That made me chuckle.

"And I fucking love it!"

I had Mitch stop at Macy's so that Mercedes could use the bathroom to fix her hair and buy some new panties.

We were officially late to the wake.

But whatever.

When we pulled up to the funeral home, my anxiety level was sky-high again.

Mercedes, who now had her hair tied back into a low ponytail, rubbed my back and said,

"It'll be okay."

Thank God she was here with me.

Not only was it going to be difficult to see Callum's dead body, but it was the first time in a very long time I'd have to come face to face with Jennifer.

But perhaps the most painful part, was the fact that all of this reminded me of the last time I'd set foot in a funeral home...when my mother died.

The line was out the door, a sea of black, stuffy polyester.

Old rich members of Manhattan's upper crust were discussing their stock portfolios, when they should've just been shutting the fuck up.

I couldn't see past the people in front of me. Not that I wanted to see anything in there. I wanted to go home, to my safe place inside Mercedes.

Having to take a leak like no one's business, I whispered in her ear,

"Keep our place in line. I'm gonna find a bathroom."

"Okay," she said, looking a bit wary of my leaving her alone.

I left the line and followed the path of Persian rugs to the restroom. And after I'd pissed like a race horse, I was on my way back to Mercedes when I spotted Callum's mother, Betty, comforting a little girl in the hallway.

The child was crying, and it broke my heart.

While the girl's back was turned to me, I couldn't tell, but she seemed to be about four years old. She had to be Callum and Jennifer's daughter.

I'd never seen her before. I'd only known that Callum had knocked Jennifer up pretty soon after I found out about their affair.

At the time, that news had only made things worse. But at this moment, I felt nothing but sympathy for a child who'd lost her parent.

I knew that kind of pain all too well.

Betty looked startled to see me, but I couldn't walk past her without paying my condolences.

I felt nauseous as I said,

"Hi, Betty. I'm so sorry about Callum."

Looking distraught, she simply nodded and held the little girl tighter before walking away.

I trailed behind them when I noticed a black pom pom had fallen out of the girl's hair onto the rug.

Clearing my throat, I walked a bit faster to catch up with them.

"Excuse me. She dropped something."

When the little girl turned around, it was the first time I'd gotten a look at her.

Kneeling down and holding the pom pom out, I'd forgotten what I was supposed to say next. Because the wind had been completely knocked out of me.

There were no words…just a complete state of disbelief and confusion.

Because, if I didn't know better, I would've thought...I was looking into the face of my mother!

Stay safe!