Thank you for your continued interest and support. I appreciate it. I do not own Glee or the characters, neither do I own Grayson's Vow.
SAM
"You know what we should do?" Mercedes suddenly asked, leaning forward abruptly and taking me by surprise.
We were sitting on semi-rusted lounge chairs on the patio, a glass of wine in each of our hands.
We had been sipping in comfortable silence, looking out over the covered pool, which was most likely murky and sludge-filled beneath.
I have to be honest, I'd had every intention of trying to seduce my wife tonight. I didn't think it would be very hard, since she had responded to my kiss earlier with such enthusiastic passion.
But after what happened at the restaurant, I wasn't exactly feeling all that lustful.
"I have a feeling nothing good ever follows those words when they're coming from your mouth," I said.
She shot me a smirk...
"No, really. It's a good idea."
"Okay, what?"
"We should throw a party!"
I raised one brow, leaning my head back on the chair even as I watched her.
"A party? Why in the world would we do that?"
"Well," she said, sitting up completely, swinging her legs to the side so she could face me. "It seems to me, the Napa community is...leery of you right now. And it certainly couldn't hurt the Evans Winery's image to obtain a better social standing in your own community. Am I right?"
"Well... I suppose." She was right. If I was going to have a fighting chance of bringing my family's business back to life, it wouldn't help if I was the black sheep of wine country. Still... "How would a party help in that regard exactly?"
"It would just be a start," she said, looking thoughtful. "But word spreads, you know. If we invited some of the more influential people in the community and they felt welcomed by you, they'd be more likely to extend the same your way. Gossip has a way of making people forget the subject is a human being. And inviting people here would remind them of that. I think, innately, people want to understand and forgive."
"You give people too much credit."
She appeared to consider that, frown lines appearing between her eyes...
"Maybe. But I like to think not. At least in most cases anyway."
She suddenly looked vulnerable...
After taking a sip of wine, I said,
"You must be familiar with gossip."
"Well, of course. Much of my life has been in the public eye."
Her expression looked pained and I had the sudden instinct to take her in my arms. I looked away however, taking another sip of the buttery white wine, savoring the hints of butterscotch and pear.
"Anyway," I said, changing the subject. "How will people be reminded I'm a human being? I thought you considered me more dragon than human."
"True." She smiled. "You'd have to curb your reptilian tendencies for one night."
I chuckled, studying the shadows and highlights of her features in the dim light of the moon and the few house lights still on behind us.
"Seriously, though, I hardly have time to plan a party."
Mercedes shook her head...
"No, of course not. I'd do it. It will keep me out of trouble. We could do an African safari theme! Or a tropical luau! I'll think of something perfect."
She grinned, and I got a flash of that witchy little spot I call an almost dimple. It was a genuine smile. My first...
My heartbeat stuttered and then I couldn't help the small chuckle that found its way up my throat.
"You're supposed to be helping me organize my books to stay out of trouble," I told her.
"I can do both."
I sighed...
"Fine. Just wait until we get the check, please, before you start spending money neither of us has yet."
"I will. Well, except for invitations. I'll pay for those. Do I have your permission to pick a date?"
"Go ahead. I can assure you I don't have any social plans on the calendar."
After that, a few moments of silence settled between us...
The mild night air was fragrant with nearby roses, the flavor of the wine crisp on my tongue, the rustle of the trees whispering all around and the iridescent mist floating in the grapevines beyond.
I closed my eyes, relishing the assorted sensations, wondering when I'd lived in the moment just as I was now.
Had I ever?
"Do you plan on restoring the pool when we get our check?" Mercedes asked quietly, nodding her head towards said pool.
"Probably not. I'd like to tear it out."
"Why? Don't you like to swim?"
"I like to swim just fine. I just don't have very good memories of that particular pool. My father thought he'd teach me how to swim by throwing my puppy into the deep end."
Mercedes drew in a breath...
"Your puppy? Why would he do that?" she whispered.
Jesus. I hadn't thought about that in so long. Why was I remembering it now?
I supposed because the pool was right in front of me...
"I was six and I was afraid of the deep end. No matter how much my father threatened me, I wouldn't get in. He would stand on the side of the pool in his damn business suit and rail at me as I cried."
God, twenty-two years later and I could still feel the humiliation...
"I had found this stray puppy wandering just outside our gates and begged my parents to let me keep it. They agreed, so long as I kept it as an outside dog only and that I solely took care of it..."
I let my thoughts wander, trying to picture that little dog I'd named Lucky. It'd been a mutt, brown and white in coloring with these big trusting eyes.
"Anyway, we were out here for a lesson and I again refused to get in, so my father picked up the puppy who was sitting right there on the patio," I pointed my finger at the exact spot. "And threw him in. Then he told me either I jumped in after him, or he'd drown."
"Oh God, Sam," Mercedes breathed, her hand over her mouth.
I gave her a small smile...
"It was a long time ago." So why did my chest still ache as I recalled it? "Anyway, I stood on the side of the pool crying and screaming as that puppy drowned, Mercedes. My father eventually scooped him out, but it was too late." And the guilt of that still tore at my soul. I'd been a coward. "I just wish I had it to do over again... I'd save him this time. I'd drown myself if I had to. But I'd save him."
"Of course you would. You're a man now, with a man's courage. You were practically a baby then," Mercedes said, moving over to sit on my lounge chair. "How did you ever learn to swim after that?"
I ran my hand through my hair, holding a handful of it as I recalled.
"Harrold. My father went away a couple weeks later and Harrold spent the weekend teaching me how to swim. He wore this weird black suit that went from his knees to his neck."
I chuckled softly recalling how Harrold had made me practice over and over in the shallow water until I felt confident enough to go in the deep end. And then he'd come with me and let me hang on his shoulders until I told him I was ready to let go.
"Later that year, I taught my brother to swim anytime my father was away so when he eventually tossed him in the deep end, he swam like a little fish. My father was so proud," I said, trying to sound ironic, but the statement came out with the true pride I felt. I had been proud of my brother and proud I'd secretly helped him avoid the terror and guilt I'd faced.
I sighed, my hand dropping down by my side...
"It wasn't your fault," Mercedes said softly, seeming to know what I was thinking. "What your father did to you was an evil, awful thing to do to a little boy. Oh, Sam, I'm so sorry you experienced that."
She put her hand on my cheek, her expression gentle and filled with compassion.
How wrong I'd been about the little witch. How completely and utterly wrong.
And as I looked into her forgiving eyes, something inside me felt as if it had unclenched and began to drift away...
Why had I shared that story with her?
She had this way of drawing out honest confessions from me.
Was it because, tonight at the restaurant, amongst all those staring eyes, she had sought to make me feel as if someone was on my side?
Was it because she was planning something...a party...in an effort to help me elevate my social standing in people's eyes, for no reason other than she cared and thought she could do something to help?
Or was it because I suddenly felt this unexpected friendship and understanding from my unpredictable little wife?
Or was there some kind of spell floating on the mist tonight?
"Sweet, beautiful witch," I murmured, pulling her down to me so I could kiss her.
I wrapped my hands in her thick, silken hair as our lips met.
She tensed, but didn't pull away and I traced her lips with my tongue slowly until she opened for me.
Pulling her closer, I delved inside, exploring the wet silken contours of her mouth, heat coiling through my body, warming my blood.
When she finally began participating, I wanted to groan with satisfaction, but I didn't want to do anything to break the spell and have her pull away.
So instead, I brought my hands down to run up and down her back, and after a few moments, I felt her muscles relax.
Our first kiss had been harsh and challenging, our second ravenous yet tender, but this one was slow and sensual, as if our mouths were making love.
I had kissed countless women in my life, but I've never experienced a kiss like this one. It confused me almost as much as it aroused me.
Before Mercedes could react, I moved her...quickly but fluidly...so she was under me and I was hovering above her, my weight on my hip to the side of her body on the lounge chair.
She blinked up at me as if uncertain about what had just happened. And I wanted to pull her fully against me so she could feel the full extent of my arousal, but I instinctively knew that would be the wrong move right now.
My little bride needed to be slowly warmed to passion tonight, and I was all too willing to do whatever it would take.
The quick spark earlier in the day had scared her off for some reason... A reason I'd find out, but not tonight. Tonight wasn't about anyone except us.
Mercedes' hair was splayed around her, her lips shining with the wetness of my kisses, and her eyes regarding me with hazy passion and just a touch of wariness.
I leaned in and kissed her again, my body tensed with the effort to hold back... I wanted to strip off her clothes and plunge in to her soft, tight heat right here.
My body was pulsing with need...
I started to pull the straps of her sundress down and she made a small squeak of protest, so I halted, but leaned in and kissed her neck, dragging my lips down her soft, fragrant skin, darting my tongue out to taste her.
She leaned her head back and arched up into me, and I took the opportunity to pull her dress down so her breasts popped free.
I looked down, not able to repress the deep animal groan that rose from my throat at the sight of her beautiful, full breasts right in front of me...
"You have the prettiest nipples I've ever seen," I murmured. "I haven't been able to stop thinking about them."
I leaned in and kissed one and she let out a small feminine gasp. And at the sound, my cock hardened to painful proportions.
"I've wanted to taste them and suck on them since I walked in on you the other day," I admitted, my lips against her skin as I kissed the other breast. "I've wondered if they taste as sweet as they look."
"Sam," she groaned, tangling her fingers in my hair. And I lowered my mouth to one stiff peak and licked at it, swirling my tongue around and around.
"God, you do," I moaned. "You taste as sweet as you look."
"I said we shouldn't... this isn't..." Her words left off in a breathy sigh. And a few seconds later, those breaths turned to pants.
At her response, I wrapped my lips fully around her nipple and suckled, pulling it into my mouth and then using my tongue to soothe it gently.
She cried out, pulling at my hair...
"Oh God, Sam," she groaned. "You, we have to..."
"Shh, little witch," I soothed, taking the other nipple in my mouth and sucking gently before pulling back. "Let yourself enjoy this."
I eased my wife's thighs apart, putting one of my knees between them. She gazed up at me with eyes unfocused and drugged with arousal.
And a primitive male triumph made my gut clench. I responded by pressing my erection against her belly even as I leaned in to kiss her again.
But her body suddenly went rigid and she turned her head...
"No," she said, her voice soft and still scratchy with passion.
"Yes," I said, leaning back in.
She pushed at my shoulders...
"No!" she said more firmly.
I groaned, rolling to the side and she stood quickly, pulling her dress up, looking as if she was having trouble making her legs cooperate.
My body pulsed painfully with unspent lust... God, I wanted her...
And I believe she wanted me. However, she made a concerted effort to appear unaffected.
"I should get to bed," she said.
My arm shot out and I grabbed her hand before she could run.
"I meant what I said, Mercedes. There's no reason we have to sleep alone. We could...consummate this marriage. You feel what we have between us as much as I do. You can't deny that."
I gave her my most charming smile, but she looked away and pulled her hand free of mine, the lines of her body tense, her eyes confused and slightly pained.
"Did you tell me that story so this..." she moved her hand back and forth between the two of us, "...would happen?"
Confusion made me pause...
"What story?"
"About the puppy."
"The puppy? What? No!"
Did she think I had told her about that to manipulate her into kissing me?
I pressed my lips together.
She studied me for a moment and then let out a sharp breath.
"I told you, Sam, I'm not interested in that... In this." She gestured between me and her once again. "It would only complicate an already complicated situation. This wasn't our deal."
"Deals change all the time."
I sat up and brought my leg over the chair and stood up to face her. Then I took a lock of her hair between my fingers, testing its silky texture, wishing the moon brought out its glossy highlights the way the sun did.
But in this light, its gloss was shadowed.
When I make love to her, I want it always to be in light so I could see the sheen of her hair and the glow of her brown gemstone eyes.
I wanted to see all the ways in which her body proclaimed she was life itself, full of heat and passion.
My body throbbed again, still hard at the very thought of making love to her...for hours and hours. Or, hell, even just once...
"It can be temporary, Mercedes. Just like our marriage."
She blinked at me and brought her hands to her cheeks as if they were warm.
"It wouldn't work. Just trust me," she said.
Then she turned towards the stone staircase up to the house and started walking.
I called her name, but she didn't turn around and she didn't look back. So I sat back down on the lounge chair, letting out a long, sexually frustrated sigh, trying to figure out what had just happened.
I had no idea how to handle my own wife...
Women had always come easily to me. Keeping them...well, Olivia had proven that might be a different matter. But Mercedes and I had already established our relationship would be temporary so, with her, that wasn't an issue.
I've never experienced being turned down for sex, though, especially when I turned on my charm. And I'm not being arrogant, it's just the truth.
Did I actually know how to seduce a woman?
An unwilling one?
How ironic that the first woman I had to work for was my very own wife.
"See you on Monday, Alice," I said, leaning forward and kissing her soft cheek. It was Friday morning and she and Harrold were taking a weekend trip to San Francisco to visit friends.
"There are several casseroles in the freezer, with instructions written right on top," she said. "Oh, and I baked a batch of those citrus butter cookies you like. They're in tin foil in..."
"Alice," I chuckled, "I'm a grown man. I can take care of myself for the weekend."
She smiled, shaking her head and pinching my cheek affectionately.
"I like taking care of you. Just let me dote. Oh! And please tell Mercedes I baked her the brown sugar oatmeal cookies she likes. Where is she anyway? I thought she'd come up to the house to say goodbye."
"We were out late last night. She's probably sleeping in," I said, picturing her tangled in her sheets in her little cottage, that glorious hair splayed all...
Alice eyed me as if she could read my thoughts...
"How are things going with you two now that you're actually married?" she asked.
She'd wanted to come with us to the ceremony, but I'd told her absolutely no. At the time, I hadn't wanted anything that would make the ceremony more awkward than it already was.
And her presence there would've only served to make us feel more uncomfortable. And make me feel guilty. I couldn't deny that.
I sighed...
"I don't know. It's hard to say with her. I barely know what she's going to do from moment to moment, much less what she's thinking."
Except that she's resisting me, which is most likely why I want her so badly.
"Hmm," Alice hummed, looking thoughtful. "Yes, not many match that one for spirit, I'll say that. Except maybe you." She winked at me. "I'm glad you two went to dinner last night. It's a good start." She smiled, and before I could address that comment or tell her not to get any grand ideas, she continued, "Tell her to have a nice weekend. Oh! And tell her I got her list about the party. What a splendid idea! I'm not sure what the big rush is, or why she was emailing me at two in the morning, but Harrold and I will stop in town this morning and order the invitations. I know a place that will print them right away. I still have Jennine's address label list of who's who in Napa and can email that to the printer once I've had a few minutes to go through it."
Wait! Mercedes had been up in the middle of the night?
Why?
Had she, too, been unable to sleep after what we'd done on the patio?
Had she been tossing and turning, remembering the feel of...
"Tell Mercedes they'll go out in the mail Monday," Alice continued, interrupting my thoughts.
"And here, drink your orange juice," she said, handing me my half-full glass. "There's a terrible flu going around.
" I did as she said, draining the glass just to stop her party-talk and incessant nagging.
She watched me carefully as I drank it, something almost nervous in her expression. Was she that worried about a flu?
When I was done, she took my glass and rinsed it in the sink before I shooed her out of the kitchen, calling goodbye to Harrold who was waiting in the foyer with their small suitcase sitting on the floor at his feet.
"Goodbye, sir," he said, giving his wife a small, affectionate smile as she came towards him, fussing about all the things that were left undone, as if we might perish without her caretaking for the weekend.
I worked until late afternoon that day, and then made a trip into town for supplies, returning about five.
After a quick shower, I went down to the kitchen to put one of the casseroles in the oven for dinner.
I texted Mercedes to let her know dinner would be ready at six, but an hour later, when she still hadn't texted me back, I started to get restless.
Was she ignoring me?
I hadn't seen her once all day.
Was she holed up in that little hovel of hers, avoiding me?
Come to think of it, wasn't she planning on getting started in my office?
I went to see if there was any sign she'd been there, but there wasn't. So I puttered around in my office for a little while.
But when my frustration levels rose too much for me to focus on any one thing, I pushed away from my desk and went to grab my phone.
I texted Mercedes again and then waited five minutes, drumming my fingers on the kitchen counter.
Nothing...
I was striding past the fountain before I even realized I'd left the house.
What if she'd taken off for Brazil like I'd mentioned that day in the hotel room where she'd been staying?
The little witch!
Had she left me?
Had what we'd done last night spooked her that much?
Or had her supposed thoughtfulness and compassion been a well-performed act?
My blood was pulsing through my veins with something I couldn't identify...either panic or anger...perhaps a mixture of both.
Would her suitcase be gone?
Had she made a complete fool of me?
Leaving me with nothing but shattered pride and a very real leg shackle, with no true evidence of a bride?
I didn't even bother knocking, I just strode through the cluttered front room and burst into her bedroom, my heartbeat pounding in my chest at what I'd find...
I expelled a giant breath when I saw Mercedes' suitcase open on the floor, her clothes falling out like they had been the day before.
My gaze swung around the room, resting on the lump under the bed covers...
She was sleeping?
At six at night?
"Mercedes?"
No answer...
I moved to the bed and ripped the covers back. A small groan emerged and she pulled her legs up to her chest, rolling into an even smaller ball.
"Mercedes?" I called again, this time with worry lacing my voice.
Her face was covered with all that beautiful hair of hers, so I moved it back and put my hand to her forehead.
Her skin was hot to the touch and she was sweat slicked, but shivering.
"Oh no, Mercedes, you're burning up, sweetheart."
She only groaned again, moving her face in my direction, but keeping her eyes closed. Then she mumbled something unintelligible, and then shivered violently.
Fuck me! This was my fault. I had let her stay in this drafty, dusty place and caused her to take frigid showers for days on end.
What was wrong with me?
Guilt hit me in the gut and I put my arms under my wife, lifting her gently along with the quilt.
"You're coming up to the main house and that's final. I'm laying down the law! I know somewhere in there you're arguing with me, but I'm not taking no for an answer. You have no choice but to obey me. How do you like that, wife?" I asked, trying to get some kind of reaction from her.
But she gave none other than pressing herself closer to me and shivering again.
I walked her carefully through the dirty, equipment-filled front room and kicked the door closed behind me, moving quickly through the unseasonably chilly, mist-filled evening.
And as I climbed the stairs with her in my arms, my head suddenly grew dizzy.
I stopped, leaning against the banister for a moment. Well, that was strange. God, I hoped I wasn't getting sick, too. It would not be good timing.
After a moment, the feeling passed, leaving only a strange buzzing in my blood. So I took Mercedes to the bedroom that had once belonged to my stepmother and laid her gently on the bed.
Pulling the blankets back on the other side and then moving her over onto the sheets, I covered her up. And after smoothing her hair back and laying a cool washcloth on her forehead, I went to get some Tylenol.
When I'd returned with the tablets, I shook Mercedes gently...
"Mercedes, you need to tell me if you've already taken something. Mercedes?" She stirred, her eyes blinking up at me, the brown even more vivid with the fever. "Hey, did you take anything? Any medicine?"
She shook her head and winced.
"Didn't have anything," she croaked.
"Okay, good, then I need you to take these," I said, holding the pills close to her mouth.
She swallowed them and took several long drinks of the water I'd brought up, collapsing back on the pillows and closing her eyes once again.
I took a moment to study her face...
Her skin was flushed with the fever, her eyelashes long and dark on her cheeks, her lips dry and slightly parted.
"Beautiful little brat," I whispered, smoothing her hair back. At that, I became aware of the strange buzzing in my veins again.
I frowned...
The buzzing seemed to flow down to my groin and I grimaced slightly as I hardened. This was hardly the time for lust and yet my body seemed to have other ideas.
I felt mildly ashamed. The woman in front of me was sick for God's sake!
Over the course of the next day and a half, I worked to keep Mercedes comfortable as her body fought to break the fever.
And I also struggled to keep my own body under control.
Need raged through my veins in some sort of fiery swirl of uncontrolled lust. And I found myself doubled over repeatedly from the pulsing intensity of an erection that seemed to come out of nowhere and last for hours.
It wasn't normal...
Something was drastically wrong.
I called Carlos and told him I was too sick to work for the first time in the year since I'd been back. I wouldn't have worked that day anyway, as I wouldn't have left Mercedes alone, but the truth was, I was in no shape to leave the house.
I was like an out-of-control animal...
I wanted to fuck like a Viking...
I wanted to pillage and tear clothes and sate my throbbing desire over and over and over until the pulsating pain left me limp and finally satisfied.
That thought in itself seemed ridiculously dramatic, and yet, I couldn't think of any other way to explain it, even to myself.
I looked away as I wiped cool cloths on Mercedes' neck and upper chest, shaking to control the urge to roll on top of her and take her, unconscious with fever or not.
I had to relieve myself four times alone in the bathroom just to function enough to care for the little witch.
No, this was not normal...
Had she put some kind of evil spell on me?
Because I felt possessed by a sexually aggressive demon straight from the depths of Hades.
I was on the verge of calling a doctor...or perhaps a priest to perform an exorcism on me...when the symptoms finally began to abate late Sunday afternoon.
Mentally exhausted and physically drained...quite literally...I laid down on the bed next to Mercedes for just a moment.
She felt remarkably cooler, her breathing smooth and even.
And as the dusky beginnings of twilight filtered in through the edges of the heavy drapes, and the low whir of the ceiling fan sounded, I was lulled to sleep almost instantly.
Stay safe!