Thank you for your quick responses and for your continued interest and support. I appreciate it.

I do not own Glee or the characters, neither do I own Reaper's Legacy.

MERCEDES

Bray glared at me like an angry leprechaun. He was sitting in time out on our couch, thanks to repeated use of his new favorite word.

I popped a beer and raised it in a silent toast to the women who'd come to clean, decorate and fix us food.

I'd been serious when I told Sam I didn't want to spend time with the club, but what they'd done for me was enough to make me reconsider.

At the very least, I needed to make an appearance to say thanks.

They even left me a card and a long welcome letter full of important information...everything from their cell-phone numbers to the address of Bray's new school.

This was particularly important, because school would be starting on Monday, a full week earlier than back in Seattle. So I knew I needed to make a move on that.

In addition to stocking the basics, the women had also left me a pan of taco meat and all the fixings, ready to heat and serve.

Thank God for that, because there was no way in hell I was going upstairs in search of food.

In fact, I had no intention of going upstairs at all...

Not without an invitation.

And it wasn't because I was still mad at Sam...this place was so much better than our old place that not even I could hold a grudge at this point.

But I'll be using the patio door. It was safer that way.

Not because I was more scared of him, but because the rules kept changing and I wasn't sure where we stood.

Drinking one of the beers thoughtfully stocked in my fridge, helped me relax a little.

I sighed.

Most of our stuff was still out in the car...

Sam and Stud had done the heavy lifting at my old place, but I could handle the unloading by myself.

Not like we owned much anyway.

But the one thing I would not be doing...was asking Sam for help.

Things were weird enough already.

Plus, I figured I could start hauling things down tomorrow.

I smiled, feeling pleased with myself that I'd made Bray pack jammies for the road. So there was no pressure to find his clothes tonight.

I heated the tacos and grabbed a couple of plates. The kitchen was fully stocked...just Corelle, nothing fancy, but they all looked new to me.

"Braylon Noah Jones, are you ready to make good choices?" I asked.

He glowered at me and crossed his arms.

"Okay, I'm going to eat," I told him.

I filled my plate, grabbed a second beer, and walked over to the doors, opening them wide and stepping out to one of the loungers.

I sat down with my legs crossed, setting my plate on the pillow in front of me.

Then I took a bite...

Holy shit! That tasted good after a long day.

"This is really yummy!" I called to Bray. "It's your favorite. Lots of cheese and no tomatoes. Too bad you aren't hungry."

He didn't respond, but I heard the scrape of a chair on the deck overhead. And I looked up to see the shadow of someone above, through the cracks in the decking.

I knew it was Sam. And I waited for him to say something.

But he didn't.

Oo-kay.

I finished one taco and considered a second.

Bray would be impossible if he didn't eat, but I couldn't let him get away with defying me like that, either.

Time for the big guns...

"Bray, you sure you don't want a taco?" I called. "I'm halfway done, and when I'm finished I'll be putting the food away. That means there'll be nothing but plain bread after if you get hungry. Not only that, the ladies left pie and ice cream."

Silence.

Then the chair above scraped again and I heard footsteps...Sam walking across the deck.

Great. I hoped my yelling wasn't pissing him off even more. I still couldn't get that garbage comment out of my head.

I polished off my beer, bracing myself for battle on two fronts...

"What kind of pie?" Bray asked after a few seconds.

"Looks like berries to me," I replied. "I'm going to warm mine up before I put the ice cream on."

"I'm ready to say I'm sorry," he replied. And I allowed myself just a few seconds to gloat before I walked back inside, face stern.

"So?" I asked him.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I'll make better choices next time. Can I make my own taco?"

"You can't use bad words like that," I told him seriously. "If you say that at school, you'll get in really big trouble."

"Why can Uncle Wringer say them?"

"Because he's not in school."

"That's not fair."

The kid had a point.

"Life isn't fair, Bray. Go on, make your taco."

I was digging through the fridge for the milk when I heard a light knock on the outside door.

"Uncle Wringer!" Bray called. "We're eating tacos. Do you want some?"

"Sure," he replied.

I straightened and turned towards him, wondering if he was still upset with me. Even though I couldn't quite figure out how he'd been the one to teach Bray to say a bad word, yet I'd gotten in trouble.

Of course, there were all sorts of things I'd never figured out about Sam.

He came in and I handed him a plate warily, waving towards the food. He didn't smile at me, but he didn't scowl, either. So I decided to take it as a positive sign.

"You made all this?" he asked.

"Nope, the girls from your club did," I told him, figuring it was always good to make peace over food. And I definitely wanted peace with him, for both Bray's sake and my own.

Maybe we could just forget today and start over tomorrow?

I decided I liked that idea a lot.

I grabbed two more beers and handed him one, smiling hesitantly.

"I found it all in the fridge. I still can't believe they pulled everything together in one day. Thank you so much...I had no idea you were planning something like this. I'm blown away."

He grunted, not bothering to look at me. Okay, guess we were back to him treating me like furniture.

And because I'm a perverse bitch, I didn't like it.

Stupid, right?

"You want to bring your food upstairs?" he asked us. "I've got a table on the deck. There's a hell of a view, and we'll be able to watch the sunset."

"Thanks," I said, surprised. Guess he wanted to make peace, too.

Thank God for that...neither of us had anything to gain from a cold war. And this really was nicer than any place Bray and I had ever lived.

I liked the idea of having access to the deck, too...so long as Sam didn't turn on me again.

Would I ever get to the point where being around him wasn't hard to handle?

Yes, I told myself. I'd force myself to do it. For Bray's sake.

Dinner went better than expected. Bray talked the whole time, which smoothed the way for me and Sam.

I finished my food and then went and grabbed us some more beer, refilling Bray's glass of milk while I was at it.

Eventually, my son got bored and headed down the stairs on the side of the deck to run around. By then, I'd had enough alcohol to feel slightly less awkward, and Sam seemed to be in a good place, too.

I dragged my chair away from the table to the deck rail, propping my feet up against the railing.

He went back into the house and started some music, a mix of old and new stuff.

We each drank another beer as the sun grew low in the sky. And I went from feeling good to feeling fucking fantastic all around.

After a while, Bray needed to get to bed, so I took him down and gave him a quick shower. The poor kid was dead on his feet, falling asleep before I even finished reading his story.

Afterwards, I decided to go back upstairs and sit on the deck awhile longer.

I liked a little time away from Bray every day, which had been hard to get in our last couple of apartments.

This was different, though. He could be safe while I had a little space.

"Hey," I called as I climbed back up to the deck. "You mind if I sit up here for a while longer?"

"It's what it's for," Sam said.

He stood at the railing, leaning forward on his elbows and looking out across his kingdom.

He must've gone in and taken a shower while I was putting Bray to bed, because his hair was damp. And he'd changed into a pair of worn flannel lounge pants that hung low enough to expose his hipbones.

Maybe I was projecting one of my dirtier fantasies, but I was pretty sure he wasn't wearing anything under those pants, either.

And they certainly gave me a nice, defined view of his ass as well.

The look worked for him in a big way. Sam was all lean and muscular, with a six-pack that tapered down nicely and biceps that were a work of art.

Oh, wow! One of his nipples was pierced, too. I'd never seen that before.

His pecs were broad and hard, large enough to be hot without venturing into man-boob territory.

And the few tattoos...

I'd always wondered about them.

His back was all Collectors MC, but his arms and shoulders had ink, too. I wanted to study them up close, but that seemed sort of rude. Also, I couldn't quite get my eyes to focus.

So I settled for standing next to him, leaning forward against the rail.

"Want another beer?" he asked. I shook my head.

"I've had enough," I replied.

I'd had slightly more than enough, actually. I'd swayed climbing the stairs, and to be honest, I needed to either lean on the rail or sit.

I felt my cheeks grow warm, and then I giggled.

Sam glanced at me, raising his brows in silent question.

And I giggled again.

"What?"

"I'm pretty buzzed," I admitted, smiling at him. "Guess the beer hit me a little harder than I thought. Been that kind of day. Not enough food, not enough sleep. You know how it goes."

He smiled back at me, and damn, he was beautiful.

"Why don't you have any metal in your face now?" I asked, my sense of tact lost along with my sobriety. "It makes you look less scary and more human."

He glanced at me, raising his brows.

"I pulled it out," he said. "I started boxing, and they aren't so good for that."

Huh. I didn't know what to say about that.

"You're cute when you're drunk," Sam said, startling me.

"I'm not drunk," I told him, indignant. "I'm buzzed. Perfectly okay...just...happy."

He laughed, then leaned over to whisper in my ear.

"If you get much happier, you're gonna pass out. Then imagine what I could do to you."

That was pretty funny, and I found myself giggling harder.

"Are you flirting with me?" I asked, feeling daring. I'd been trying to figure him out all day.

Why hadn't I just asked?

Oh yeah...I had been afraid to talk about our relationship before now, but I couldn't remember why.

"I don't understand you, Sam. Half the time you seem to hate me and then it all changes. It keeps flipping back and forth. It's weird."

He raised his brows. And my eye caught on to where he'd been pierced. I wondered how much that had hurt.

Of course, it was nothing compared to his tattoos.

My eyes dropped back down to his lips. They were full and way too soft for a guy, which I knew for a fact because they'd been all over my neck recently.

Yep, I'd definitely suck on those, given the chance. I'd suck on them for a good long time.

Then I'd start moving down, trying out that pierced nipple on the way down to his dick.

Was it as big and built as the rest of him?

I wanted to know, desperately...

I swayed again, feeling heat rise up through me, and my nipples began hardening.

"I'm not trying to flirt with you," Sam said.

Oh. Now that was a buzzkill.

"That's too bad," I said, sighing.

A shame really.

I wanted to sleep with him. I really did. Or hell, anyone, for that matter.

My rule about only dating safe guys I could control, didn't lead to much in the way of action. Maybe I should revisit those guidelines...

"I don't get to flirt enough. I spend all my time working and taking care of Bray. It's kind of tiring, Sam. I'd like to meet someone, you know?"

He didn't respond, looking straight ahead.

Then I saw a little muscle in his jaw clenched.

And If I'd been just a little braver, I would've leaned over and licked his jawline.

He had just enough of a five o'clock shadow that it'd be nice and rough under my tongue.

"Don't look at me like that," Sam said, closing his eyes. "Despite what happened this morning, I'm not trying to start something with you, Mercy. You realize how fucked things would get if we started screwing each other? I'm not looking for a relationship and I'm not a one-woman man. We gotta work together for Bray. You know that."

I sighed.

I did know it.

Stupid beer.

"Yeah, you're right," I said, turning away from him to look out across the valley. He'd really found a hell of a place.

I still couldn't believe how great our new home was.

So much so, it felt great to really relax, and let it all out...

So I did...

"Bray has to come first, we can agree on that one. I just want to get laid, though. Do you think any of the guys in your club are available? I don't want a boyfriend, just a friend with benefits. Someone I can have sex with and then ditch, guilt-free, when it gets old."

Sam made a choking noise and I glanced over at him, concerned.

"You okay?"

"I thought you didn't want anything to do with the club," he said, his voice strained. "How did you go from that to friends with benefits so fast?"

"Actually, I think I might give the club a chance," I replied. Maybe the Collectors would be all right. And the more I consider the whole friends-with-benefits thing, the more I like the idea. I never get to have sex. I am twenty-four years old, for God's sake. I should get to have sex!

Look, those ladies did some really nice things for me today. And Stud...he left home in the middle of the night to help someone he didn't even know. Those girls...they must've worked for hours, getting everything ready for us. Just the furniture is amazing, let alone leaving dinner ready to go..."

"Fucking hell!"

I frowned at him.

"What's that supposed to mean?" I asked. "I thought you wanted me to get to know your friends in the club. And seriously...I deserve to get laid. I've earned it!"

Sam straightened and turned to me, every muscle in his body tense and tightly leashed.

His nose flared as he took a deep breath, and my eyes caught onto the muscle in his jaw.

He'd always been scary, but right now he looked downright lethal.

I should've been terrified, but I had my buzz wrapped around me like a nice warm blanket of protection. And I wasn't going to let him bully me anymore.

"I think the girls would be good for you," he said. "At least, some of them. If anything, you stick with the old ladies. I don't want you around the others. But this friends-with-benefits shit? Not happenin', Mercedes. Put that outta your mind, got me?"

"Why not?" I demanded, outraged. "You screw everything that moves. Why can't I?"

"Because you're a mother," he said, his voice almost a growl. "You got no business screwing around like that. I'm serious."

"I'm a mother, but I'm not dead," I said, rolling my eyes. "And you don't have to worry, I won't let Bray meet someone unless it's serious. But I'm ready for a little fun. Stud is hot, and if any of the other guys in your club are like him...even a little...they'd be perfect for me. Don't give me shit about it, either. I know you guys screw around. Why shouldn't I?"

"Those are sweetbutts and club whores," he said, his voice hard. "They're trash. And there's no fucking way you're gonna be one of them. Not happening, Mercy."

"You aren't my boss."

"You sound like a goddamned fourteen-year-old," he replied, eyes narrowing.

"At least I don't sound like an overprotective father," I snapped. "You're not my dad, Sam!"

In a flash, Sam reached out and caught me behind the neck, jerking me into his body. Then he dropped his mouth down to my ear, my face so close to his chest I could've licked him.

"Trust me, I'm well aware I'm not your father," he said. His nose traced the curve of my ear, the warmth of his breath sending a shiver through me. "If I was, they'd throw my ass in jail for the shit I think about you."

I raised my hands, sliding them up along his sides, tracing the line of his muscles before bringing them in to graze his nipples.

I couldn't help myself...

I leaned forward and flicked his piercing with my tongue.

He groaned, and his fingers tightened in my hair. Actually, his entire body tensed, and then I felt the brush of his shaft against my stomach.

Holy hell!

My nipples peaked and the flesh between my legs spasmed.

I shifted restlessly.

One of his hands slid down my back, past my shorts and panties, to cup my bare ass. But his fingers tensed as I licked his nipple again, then sucked the ring into my mouth.

"Jesus..." he groaned. "You got two seconds before I lay you over that table and fuck you so hard it breaks. I swear to God, Mercedes. You wanna tell me how we're gonna explain that to Bray? 'Cause I got shit. I'm not looking to marry you and I sure as hell won't hand you my dick on a leash, so things could get weird fast, babe."

I froze, shivering, feeling moisture soak my panties. Damn! I wanted to hump his leg like a bitch in heat, desperate for anything to fill the emptiness inside me.

Instead, I pulled away from him slowly.

His hand slid free of my shorts and we stepped apart, eyes boring into each other.

"Fuck!" he muttered, running a hand through his hair.

He looked away from me. But the front of his pants bulged outward, his dick so hard I saw the thick head clearly outlined.

I wondered what he'd do if I knelt down, pulled his pants low and run my tongue around the tip before sucking him deep into my mouth.

I practically salivated at the thought.

Desire speared me like a weapon. I sighed, licking my lips.

"I'm gonna get another beer," Sam said harshly. I looked up from his dick to his face to find his eyes glued to my chest.

Shit! I was still wearing the damned Barbie tank, which left nothing to the imagination. Silly me...my suitcase was still sitting in his car.

"Grab me one, too," I replied, my voice shaking.

"Sure that's a good idea?"

I looked at him and shook my head. His chest rose and fell too fast, his darkened eyes almost fully dilated.

He swallowed and I rubbed my hand against the top of my thigh, restless and hungry. The steady motion caught his eye and he swallowed again.

"No, but I want one anyway."

I walked unsteadily across the deck to a lounger and lay back on it, limp and full of need so intense, I thought I might die.

The sun had set, and the evening stars had started coming out somewhere along the line. I should go back down to my little apartment. I knew that.

Instead, I closed my eyes and thought about how much I wanted to reach down between my legs and rub my clit until I blew up right in front of Sam.

Something cold touched my cheek...

I opened my eyes to find him standing over me, eyes intense.

They slid slowly across my body. Impossibly, the bulge in his pants was larger.

God, it'd be so easy to just reach out and take him into my hand, feel that hard length for myself. Or I could sit up and lean my head forward, letting my cheek touch him through the soft fabric.

I couldn't take my eyes off it...

I rose until my face was only a few inches away from his crotch. Then I looked up at him, wondering if I'd lost my mind.

"Here's your beer," he said roughly, holding it out to me. I took it and wrapped my mouth around the neck for a drink, holding his gaze.

I hated him for being sober and in control.

"Jesus, Mercy..." he groaned. "Don't fucking look at me like that."

"Like what?" I asked him, catching a drip on the side with my tongue.

"Don't play stupid," he whispered. "If you don't stop I'm gonna fuck you. And we'll both regret that tomorrow. You're drunk."

I tilted my head to the side, thoughtful.

"Are you?" I asked him.

"What?"

"Drunk?"

He shook his head slowly, sinking down to sit next to me. Then he leaned over, scenting my neck.

We weren't touching at all, but just the warmth of his breath on my skin almost killed me.

I took another drink of my beer, slow and deliberate.

Sam's eyes burned a hole right through me.

"No," he whispered. "I'm not drunk."

"Then what's your excuse?" I asked softly. "Mine's alcohol. Whatever I do tonight, I can blame the beer. What excuse should we use for you?"

At that, he reached over and took the bottle from my hand, setting it on the deck.

"No more tonight," he said, his voice cracking. "You're done. We're done. We're not doing this. Got me?"

"Yeah," I said, forcing myself to think past the buzz.

I knew he was right. Bray needed us both, and we had enough trouble getting along already.

I was going to be living in his basement, for God's sake, and it wasn't like he hadn't been clear...he wanted to screw me. No heart, no flowers, no dates, and definitely no commitments.

At least I wasn't just a piece of furniture anymore.

"Can I ask you something?"

"What?" he replied.

I swallowed.

"Is this a new thing for you?"

"I don't follow," he said, glancing at me. His green eyes pierced mine, the warm night air hanging heavy between us.

"Wanting me," I said softly. "Is it a new thing for you? I mean, aside from...back then...I always assumed that was just a moment, you know? You always looked right through me."

"It's not a new thing."

We sat together, neither moving, frogs chirping all around us. After a while he reached up and rubbed the back of his neck, like he had in the car.

"You still sore?"

He nodded.

"Yeah, I kinked it somehow last night while I was driving."

"Want me to rub it for you?" I asked him.

"No fucking way you're touching me," he said. "We covered that already. I'm not drunk, Mercy. And I won't mess things up for Bray."

"We're not going to mess up anything," I told him. "I'm a bit sober now, it's okay. And I took a massage class. I'm actually pretty good at it. Let me help you. You've done so much to help me, I feel like I owe you something."

"Not a good idea."

I rolled my eyes, and bumped his shoulder with mine.

"Chicken?" I asked, smiling at him.

"Jesus, you're annoying," he muttered, but he didn't protest when I crawled behind him.

I ignored the screaming need between my legs as I knelt up and put my fingers on Sam's shoulders.

They were hard and strong, soft skin stretched over sleek muscles more than capable of supporting him while he pounded into my body.

Unfortunately, it was too dark for me to see much of his tattoos, which was a damned shame.

He wasn't shy about taking his shirt off, but I never got close enough to really scope them out.

I dug my fingers in and he groaned, his head dropping forward. He wasn't kidding about being tight, either.

Big knots snarled his neck and shoulders. And after a few minutes of going at them with my fingers, I started using my elbows.

Slowly I got his neck to relax and started moving down his back.

"Lay down on your stomach," I told him, sliding off the side of the lounger behind him. I flattened it. But he didn't move.

"You really are chicken," I murmured. "I'm just going to give you a back rub, Sam. Enjoy it for what it is, okay?"

He grunted and rolled onto his stomach. So I leaned over him and went to work.

Some of the knots just wouldn't give, so I decided to climb on top of Sam to get good leverage.

Was this stupid?

Of course.

Did I care?

Not one drunken bit.

I straddled his butt, enjoying the feel of his hard body between my legs and his skin under my fingers.

He smelled fresh and clean, but still utterly male. And it drove me crazy.

With every stroke of my hands I rode him, not getting quite enough stimulation to satisfy me, but enough that when I felt a light beading of sweat break out, it definitely wasn't from the effort of giving the massage.

At first he tensed, but slowly he gave in to it, each muscle group relaxing in turn. Finally, my hands were tired and we were both limp. So I laid down across his back, taking in his scent, the warm summer breeze just enough to keep me from overheating.

"Merce..." he said, his voice a warning.

"Don't, Sam," I whispered. "It doesn't mean anything. Just let it be, all right?"

He sighed, and silence fell between us.

I was still frustrated, no question. But it was a strange, relaxed kind of sexual desire washing through me now.

Night sounds surrounded us and I let myself enjoy the feel of Sam's body under mine, wishing I really could have a man like this...strong, steady, sexy and capable of protecting me from anything.

If he was mine, I'd be safe.

Always.

"It'll be okay, Mercedes," he murmured softly, sounding half asleep. "I promise."

I didn't answer, because I didn't believe him. Instead, I dozed off.

The next thing I remembered was him lifting me and carrying me down to my bed.

Stay safe!