Thank you for your continued support. I appreciate it.
I do not own Glee or the characters, neither do I own It Had to be You.
Mercedes followed Sam through the house and went still the moment he opened the front door.
Brody stood there in a business suit, that unlike Artie's, fit him perfectly.
"What are you still doing here?" he asked her, looking just as shocked as her.
'What am I still doing here?'
"Oh no. You first," she said, going for polite, but not quite making it.
"I'm looking for my backup cell phone," he said. "I was going to ask the new tenant if he'd found it."
"You sure you don't want to accuse me of stealing it?" Mercedes asked, not even in the realm of polite now.
"Did you?"
Her hackles rose, but Sam slid a hand to the nape of her neck.
Right. She had no idea if Artie could defend premeditated murder.
"You might want to close your eyes," she said to Sam, "so that you don't have to testify against me."
He smiled.
"Oh for crissake," Brody grumbled. "For the last time, you were the only one in my office who had a motive."
He pulled off his expensive reflector aviator sunglasses...the ones she used to think made him look so hot...and stared at her.
"So what's going on here anyway? And what's wrong with you? You're all…flushed."
Extremely aware of her kiss-swollen lips and just-made-out hair, Mercedes stormed off to the kitchen, opened the junk drawer, and found his spare phone.
Grabbing it, she slammed the drawer and brought it to the front door.
"I didn't steal it, and for the millionth time, I didn't steal that money either."
"Then who did?" Brody asked.
"I don't know!" Mercedes tried to take a calming breath, but it didn't help. "And I don't even know why you thought it would have been me."
He sighed.
"Simple. You need the money. You always need money."
It was a low blow and it took her a minute to catch her breath.
"There are more important things than money," she said. "And have you ever thought, that maybe one of your other girlfriends might have done it?"
Guilt flashed across his face briefly.
"Look," he said, "Whatever Mandy and Andrea have told you is..."
"Andrea?" Mercedes stared at him. "You had both Mandy and Andrea on the side? Seriously?"
Brody's face closed up and he turned an interesting shade of red.
"All I'm saying, is that you've been misinformed..."
"Stop," she said, lifting a hand. "You're just reinforcing your asshole-ness."
"Fine. I don't have to explain myself to you anyway." His gaze flicked to Sam. "And what's going on between you two? You found a way to stay here, huh?"
This time Sam tensed, and Mercedes grabbed his hand.
"Don't bother," she murmured.
Sam didn't take his eyes off Brody, but he kept his thoughts to himself, looking extremely dangerous to Brody's well-being.
"You've got your phone," he said quietly. "Leave, now."
"I'm going, but I want to talk to you first," he said to Mercedes. "Alone."
He was very brave, or very oblivious. Either way, Sam didn't budge, but Mercedes was choking on all the testosterone.
"Oh for God's sake." She turned to Sam. "It's okay."
When he still didn't budge, she stepped outside and shut the front door.
"You have two seconds," she said to Brody.
He eyed the front door warily.
"My attorney advised me to stay away," he said. "But you really embarrassed me, Mercedes. At work. In town. I thought we were okay, that we had a good run and then it was over, no hard feelings. So I have to know...why did you do it? You had to know you wouldn't get away with it."
"I didn't do it..."
"I'm trying to work my way up to council and then to mayor," he said, "And you made everyone doubt and mistrust my judgment."
"Me? You were sleeping with half the town! You made yourself look bad."
"Mercedes, you broke into my office and stole back a stupid ceramic pot that you'd given me. That's just ridiculously stupid. Stupid and childish."
"I didn't break in." But she felt embarrassed because he was right, on all accounts, and she hated that. "Yes, okay, it was stupid and childish. But I was hurt. You'd walked away without so much as a look back. You didn't deserve the pencil pot."
"Forget the fucking pot!" he yelled, and then made a visible effort to relax. He even poured on a little charm. "Look, I was just trying to be nice, okay? You were cute and fun, and when you had to get out of your apartment, I wanted to help you out. So I offered to share a place."
This stunned her.
"I thought we were a thing."
"Okay, yes, we had a thing. But you weren't my thing."
She stared at him for a long moment, wondering what she ever saw in him.
"You could have told me," she finally managed, dryly.
"You're right, I should have told you. I should have said that I'd made a mistake. That you weren't my type."
"And what is that supposed to mean?"
He sighed.
"Forget it."
"Tell me."
"Fine," he said. "We're...different."
"You mean you're a cheating bastard and I'm not?"
He sighed again, the put-upon ex-boyfriend, suffering through the breakup talk.
"That's not what I meant."
Actually, she knew what he meant, she knew exactly.
He'd come from money and she'd come from nothing.
"I want that money back, Mercedes. I mean it." And with that, he strode off the steps like he owned the world.
At that moment, Mercedes would've given just about anything to be holding the new key pot she was making, so she could chuck it at the back of his thick skull.
In fact, she whirled around looking for something, anything, to bean him with.
"Later," Sam said, joining her on the porch, after clearly having listened to the whole exchange. "I'll hold him down for you."
"When?" she demanded.
"When you don't have witnesses."
She followed his gaze to Mrs. Grant, a local teacher, who lived on the other side of Sam's grandfather's house, soaking up the spectacle from her doorstep.
Sam waved politely at her. She returned the wave and went inside.
"We'll make social media before the hour's up," he muttered.
He could feel Mercedes vibrating with emotions.
"I really want to hit him," she said.
"Bloodthirsty," he murmured, taking her hand, running his thumb over the pulse racing at her wrist. "I like it."
She didn't look at him, and he realized she was shaking.
"Hey," he said softly, pulling her inside, turning her to face him.
Mercedes looked down, so he bent his knees to put them nose to nose.
"What are you doing, letting him get in your head like that?" Sam asked.
"I..." She pushed him. "I don't know."
But he knew that she did know.
She hated that someone believed she might have stolen that money.
She hated knowing that anyone thought she was a thief, even if that someone was the cheating bastard Brody Wesson.
"Forget him, Mercedes."
She covered her face. And when she shuddered, his heart stopped.
"I'm not crying," she said through her fingers.
"Thank God!"
But his relief was cut off by the solo tear that tracked down her cheek. Drawing in a deep breath, he pulled her in close.
"Mercedes..." he murmured helplessly.
"Don't," she said, her voice muffled against his chest.
"Forget it. I'm going to be nice to you for at least a second. You'll have to just stand here and bear it."
"No, I mean I'm all sweaty now. I think it's the fury."
Her body was indeed overheated, and her skin damp. But he didn't care. He lifted her chin and looked her over.
"I'm a wreck," she said, trying to turn away. "A complete wreck. And a fraud."
"Why, did you take the money?"
"No!" She took in the teasing in his expression and squeezed her eyes shut. "I wanted to be someone different here," she said, and that broke his heart. "Not an invisible nobody florist's assistant from White Center."
"Do not listen to him," Sam said, maybe a little harshly, but he wanted her to hear him. Really hear him. "You're not a nobody. And you are a florist, a great one. You also teach ceramics. Hell, Mercedes, half of your students are in love with you. You care enough to be nice to nosy, old men. You helped a stranger avoid the rest of the world, even when he was a total ass. And you give that stranger the last of your paycheck, simply because you thought it was the right thing to do."
"It was the right thing to do," she said. "And you weren't a total ass."
"You'd probably give away your heart and soul if it was needed," he said. "But that would be a shame, because you're one-hundred-percent heart and soul. You're the real deal, Mercedes, the way the rest of us have forgotten how to be."
"I have...faults."
"Yeah," he agreed, "But they're not the ones Wesson said." He ticked them off on his fingers. "You wear your emotions on your sleeve, and you care. Hell, most people would say those are good things."
Mercedes snorted, and he smiled, completely relieved.
"But one thing you're not, Mercedes Jones, is invisible. You're standing right here, strong and beautiful..."
"No..."
"Beautiful," he repeated fiercely, stunned to find that he meant it from a very personal standpoint.
He stared at her, impacted on a visceral, physical, and mental level by her.
"So beautiful," he whispered, and then he kissed her.
Mercedes didn't think anyone had ever told her she was beautiful before.
It should've felt like a cheesy line, but it didn't. Mostly because, though she knew he meant it, she also knew he didn't want to find her beautiful.
And in some twisted way, it was that reluctance that made her feel better.
She didn't want to feel anything for him either.
She didn't want to feel anything for anyone ever again, and yet, she wasn't hardwired that way.
"I'm all sweaty," she said again, even as her hands fisted in Sam's hair.
"That's okay," he said silkily, his mouth brushing her temple. "We're going to get even more so."
The words made her shiver.
So did the way he pressed her up against the wall right there in the foyer.
"I thought we were a bad idea," she said.
"We are."
Her halter top slid down, revealing her bare breasts. He'd been so smooth, she hadn't even felt him undo it.
Then, his fingers caught in the hem of the sundress, and he slid it up to her waist.
'He sure is quick when properly motivated,' she thought.
"So this is what?" she asked breathlessly, already so excited, she was rubbing her thighs together. "A pity fuck?"
Sam's smile was heated and wicked as he kissed her.
"That's a two-part question," he said. "Yes to the pity part, but it's not for you, it's for Wesson."
If she'd had enough air in her lungs, she would have laughed.
"Now," he said, pressing closer, so there was no mistaking his intent...as if she could mistake anything about his pinning her to the wall with his hard body. "As for the fuck part..."
He kissed her again, until she nearly forgot herself.
"Are you sure?" she managed to ask, staring up into his gorgeous greens. "Because, you weren't sure a few minutes ago."
He rocked into her, and she felt exactly how sure he was.
And it tugged a moan from her, and she let her head fall back.
This gave him better access and he took it.
Lowering his head, he kissed her throat, her jaw and then the corner of her mouth.
"What changed?" Mercedes managed to asked, as Sam licked her pulse point.
"Watching you turn all violent when you got pissed off."
'Oh, God, his tongue.'
"That was sexy?" she asked.
"Yeah. Big time."
His big, warm, callused hand slid into the back of her panties and palmed her bare bottom.
"Everything you do is sexy," he added.
His mouth and the placement of his talented hand were driving her crazy.
He was driving her crazy, and she struggled to get closer to his big, tough body.
"Sam?"
He didn't answer, presumably because, his lips were busy moving along the curve of her jaw, her throat, her breast, teasing her nipple, which had long ago tightened for him.
But they had to talk first, or at least she had to talk.
"Sam?"
"Hmm."
"I haven't been intimate with Brody in weeks. You know that, right? You heard him mention it when they were searching the house."
He lifted his head and met her gaze.
"I just wanted to make sure you really knew," she said softly. "Once we moved in together, things got…weird. After only a few weeks, he started working late, and then he got allergies and snored. He even slept in a different room than me, and..."
'For the love of God, woman, zip it and let him do you!' her thoughts screamed at her.
Pushing her hair back from her eyes, Sam traced a line along her jaw.
"It's been a long time for me too," he said quietly. "So long I can't remember the last time." He kissed her shoulder. "I have protection." He gestured with his chin to his wallet, which lay on the small foyer table at her hip.
Mercedes started to reach for it, but he dipped his knees and ran his tongue around her nipple and then sucked the tight bud into his hot mouth.
She moaned, and her head fell back against the wall. But it wasn't enough, so she arched, trying to get him to take more, and felt him smile against her damp skin, as he made his way to her other breast.
His fingers trailed down her quivering stomach and then slipped between her thighs.
"Mmm," he said. "Hot and wet."
And then he dropped to his knees.
"Sam..."
Not bothering to answer, he stroked the pad of his thumb over her panties, but apparently that wasn't nearly good enough, because then, he caught his fingers in the sides, hooking them.
"Pretty," he said. "But they have to go."
Sam slowly dragged Mercedes' underwear down, and kissed her just beneath her belly button.
Then, he went lower, letting his teeth graze over her, his rough jaw scraping her soft skin.
She felt his lips apply pressure, and the feel of his tongue, brought to mind all the wicked things he might do to her.
And with those thoughts in mind, her knees wobbled.
"I've got you," he murmured, his big hand gliding up the inside of her legs.
He kissed first one inner thigh, and then the other, and then in between.
And her hips jerked.
"Easy," he murmured, and gripped her hips tightly, holding her to the wall, while he gently, but thoroughly began to take her apart with his tongue and teeth.
It was the sweetest, most exquisite torture.
Dying to have him inside her, her pulse racing and her heart pounding, she begged,
"Sam...please..."
But he continued to tease her.
"Sam..." Mercedes pleaded.
"I like the way you say my name," he said, his mouth against her wet flesh.
She had her fingers in his hair, holding on, as he drove her out of her ever loving mind, with slow, hot laving of his tongue, leaving her trembling and beside herself.
And still he took his time, until finally, he took her to the edge and nudged her over.
When she finally caught her breath and her eyes fluttered open, he rose to his feet, placed one arm around her lower back, and the other just underneath her butt as he hoisted her up.
"Wrap your legs around me," he said, voice low and rough with need.
She did as told, wrapping her arms around him too, and drawing him tightly to her.
"The condom," he said, his green eyes as intense and heated as his voice.
With shaky fingers, Mercedes took up his wallet, opened it and dug out the protection.
"Here?" she breathed. "Now?"
"Here. Now."
His words should've felt presumptuous, pushy and even aggressive. Instead, she was more aroused than she'd ever been, making needy little whimpers as she tore at his clothes to get skin to skin contact.
With calm, steady ease, Sam took over and finished undressed them both, and then, pressing her into the wall to free up his hands, he rolled on the condom.
And Mercedes quivered with anticipation just watching him.
Then his hands were back on her, sliding along the underside of her thighs, angling her hips.
And then, with his hot, fierce eyes on hers, he slowly thrust into her in one sure stroke, pushing to the hilt and holding there, giving her nowhere to hide.
But she didn't want to hide.
For once...just for once...she wanted to let go and revel in the delicious sensations of being wanted, cherished and needed, and not worry about what came next.
Rocking into him, she tried to match his rhythm, but she was pinned and unable to move.
Sam could move though...and he did...pulling out, only to push back in, his body taking hers along for the ride.
And what a ride it was.
He threw his hips into gear and drove her into and up the wall with each powerful thrust.
The entire act was like nothing he'd ever felt before, and he was quite sure, he'd never feel this way with any other woman.
Ever.
Other than Mercedes Jones.
Mercedes cried out, the sound of her pleasure echoing through the house. And her last thought before her mind shut down completely, was for the neighbors...specifically, Sam's grandfather.
'Please...' she thought. '...please let Gary's windows be closed.'
'Funny,' Mercedes thought hazily, some time later from flat on her back on the foyer floor, about the moments that marked the most important things in a woman's life.
For her, it'd been graduating high school, moving out of White Center, learning that she was strong no matter what happened, and...
Getting busy with Sam Evans up against a wall.
Her body was still quivering, with little aftershocks of sheer pleasure, and she was pretty sure, she couldn't have moved to save her life.
Beside her, Sam stirred, then came up on an elbow and looked down at her, his eyes still dark with heat.
"You good?" he asked.
"I moved beyond good a few minutes ago."
His lips twitched.
"How far beyond?" he asked.
"The stratosphere."
She thought maybe that would tug a smile from him, but it didn't. In fact, he looked a little stern as he helped her up, holding her steady until she found her sea legs.
Quietly, he moved away, presumably to deal with the condom, but he didn't come back. And she found him a few minutes later, standing at the kitchen sink, hands braced on the counter-top, and staring out the window at the ocean.
Mercedes took a moment to soak Sam in, because he could still steal her breath.
Wearing only his board shorts and nothing else, he was all tanned, smooth skin and lean sinew.
Paddle-boarding did a body good.
Though he didn't move as she walked into the room, the muscles of his back and shoulders were tense.
"Hey," she said, "Having an orgasm is supposed to relax and rejuvenate you. You don't seem relaxed or re..."
"I'm leaving. You know that right? I'm going back to my job in San Francisco. I don't know when exactly, but soon. I have to."
She drew in a deep breath.
She knew all too well, which was a bitch of a problem, considering she'd promised herself not to do this again...not to follow the same patterns as her mom and sister and fall for a guy who would leave her.
"I know."
"I want you to get a restraining order against Wesson, so he can't come back here and bug you again."
"I don't think he will," she said. "And besides, we both know he hasn't done anything to warrant an order. Plus, I'll be getting an apartment. The search has been slowed down a little, by the fact that no one wants to rent to a thief, so..."
"Stay here."
"What?"
He turned to face her, his gaze unfathomable.
"Keep the house. You can get a roommate if you want. I don't care. I just want you to stay here."
"Sam..."
"The house suits you. My grandma would like knowing, that there was someone here who loved it just as much as she did."
How was it that she wanted to both comfort him and jump him again at the same time?
"Sam." She moved to him, slipping her arms around his waist, laying her cheek against his chest. "It's okay that it was just sex. I knew that going in. You don't have to feel guilty."
"It's not guilt." His arms came around her, and he pressed his cheek to the top of her head. "I just...Christ." He squeezed her. "That wasn't just sex, Mercedes."
Her heart squeezed, but then he took one look at her face and blew out a breath.
"I don't know what the fuck to do with this, Mercedes. I'm leaving."
"I know."
"This can't happen again."
"I know that too."
She stared up at him, a little blown away by the intensity of his words and the fierceness of his expression.
It was not possessive, exactly, but definitely protective.
And something inside her cracked open just a little bit and let him in, which was terrifying her, because he was bound to disappoint her.
They always did.
Stay safe!
