Thank you for your continued kind support. I appreciate it.
It's currently raining cats and dogs, but I'm super happy. Today is my oldest son's birthday. Time sure flies.
Standard disclaimer.
Bad language.
I woke up before Sam.
It was still early and only a thin sliver of sun was peeking through the blinds, from the window across from the bed.
We were tangled together, our arms and legs forming a pretzel. Somehow, I was on my side, my back tucked close to his front.
When I dared a peek at him over my shoulder earlier, I probably ended up staring at him, for an unsuitable amount of time, but it was rare to catch him so relaxed.
The sculpted lines of his face were smooth. No trace of Cop Face whatsoever, but there was still no mistaking he was a man...a man who'd fought overseas for our country and had come home and put his life on the line, every time he clocked in for work.
If I was honest with myself, he was probably the first man I'd been with. Not that all the other guys were boys, but none of them took on the kind of responsibility that he did.
The worst any of them faced, was a delayed plane or their Internet stalling out on them, while they were playing Call of Duty.
But Sam was more than just the sum of what he did for a living. Yes, he was brave and strong, but he was also kind and honest. He was loyal. He was wicked smart, and he knew how to work my body, like it was built just for him.
Rehashing last night in my head, I felt my cheeks heat, as I clearly recalled, asking him to do me, but replace the do with the 'f' word.
I'd never said that to a guy before.
And I remembered falling asleep facing him, talking about omelets and deals, and now, all I was thinking about, was how great our first time was.
Our first time.
I ran the tips of my fingers over his still hand, tracing the strong muscles and bones.
I've been fantasizing about having sex with Sam, for a fairly decent amount of time. Years, really.
Even though, we'd gotten close to doing it almost a year ago, and even after what we did the night on the couch, none of it came close, to what it was actually like with him, which was...amazing.
Our first time.
That was what I was thinking when I woke up.
With the way everything went last night, I'd made the decision to delay the conversation I needed to have.
I had no regrets about that. It was the right choice, but I was going to drive myself crazy, if I didn't clear the...
Sam shifted behind me without warning.
His fingers curled around mine, as his leg drew up between my thighs, spreading them.
In under a second, his hips were pressed against my rear and his face was buried in my neck.
I could feel him, hot and hard, slipping between my legs, resting where I was suddenly throbbing for him.
"Mornin,' babe," he murmured, nuzzling my neck, as he let go of my hand and gripped my hip, anchoring me against his erection.
Biting down on my lip, I moaned.
"Morning."
His teeth caught my earlobe, and I gasped.
He chuckled as he rotated his hips, pressing right against my core.
My body arched all on its own, and he let go of my ear, making his way down my throat. Wow, he was frisky in the morning.
"I'm having a dilemma," he said, voice rough with sleep and arousal.
So was I, because, I was torn between stopping him and having a much needed conversation, and seeing where this was heading.
"I really want an omelet," Sam continued, nipping at my shoulder, as he rolled those magical hips again. "I think I might have dreamed about that omelet."
"Really?" I gasped.
"Yeah, babe." He slipped his hand up my waist and then under me, cupping my breast. He squeezed gently. "But I also want to fuck you senseless."
Oh my God.
I was so wet, it was freaking ridiculous, and it didn't help when he caught my nipple between his fingers.
Okay. I really needed to focus on what was important.
"Sam, I..." A cry cut me off, as he rubbed against me, hitting that spot. "Oh God..."
"I know you want that omelet, and let me tell you, I make a damn good omelet." His knee spread my legs further apart, and I braced myself on my forearm. "You'll have a mouth orgasm once you have the pleasure of that omelet."
There was a good chance I was about to have an orgasm now, if he keeps up his sexy ministrations, in that sexy voice.
Brushing my hair over my shoulder, he pressed a kiss at the base of my neck and mumbled,
"But how in the hell do I walk away from this?"
His fingers did something truly sinful with my breast, and my hips pushed back against him. And it happened. I don't know how. Call it a divine act, but the very tip of him slipped in.
"Damn," he groaned, holding himself still. "Fuck the omelet."
In a heartbeat, he was inside me, buried all the way.
"Sam..." I cried out, my body a riot of sharp, splintering sensations. From this position, the fullness and length of him was so much more.
"I love the way you call out my name."
He kneaded my breast, as he began to move, his hips pumping slowly and hitting every nerve ending my body was blessed with.
"Do it again," he ordered, his voice settling over me like velvet.
And I did it again.
Pleasure licked across my skin, as I rocked my hips back against Sam's.
Dragging his hand down my stomach, he thrust in, sealing my body to his, as he shifted, lifted me and positioned me on my knees.
The feeling of him behind me was intense, overwhelming and wonderful.
I rocked my hips back against him, shivering at the sound of his approval.
His grip tightened and then he started to move, his pace fast and hard.
My hands slipped across the bed, reaching the spindles in my headboard. I grabbed them, holding on as he slammed into me.
My head was swimming.
I couldn't make sense of where his body ended and mine began.
We were both moving frantically, until his strong arm slipped under my breasts and he hauled me up. My hands slipped from the headboard, and his hips pistoned.
Sam was totally in charge, as his hand cupped my chin, guiding my head back and to the side.
His thumb dragged over my lower lip, and I caught it, sucking it in deep.
He shouted something, that would've blistered the ears of sailors and then he brought my mouth to his.
His kiss...the way his tongue stroked mine...was no way near, as fast as he moved inside me, but it was in no way less beautiful or devastating.
"I want to feel you come," he said, his voice rough in my ear. "Do it for me, baby."
Never in my life, had a guy talked to me like that during sex, and I discovered in that moment, it did something for me.
It did a whole lot, because, the moment he pressed his mouth to the spot below my ear, release thundered through me, it totally slammed me. And somehow, Sam's actions sped up.
He lessened his grip on me and pressed me back down, to where I was grabbing the headboard once more.
The feeling of him slamming into me, was like nothing I've ever experienced. It was mind-blowing, and I felt every inch of him.
His heavy groan was the first warning, as his hips jerked wildly, a second before he pulled out.
Wet warmth spilled over my lower back and behind and tiny aftershocks swirled through me, as his hand drifted lazily over my stomach.
Neither of us moved for a few moments and then, he carefully smoothed my hair over my shoulder, catching the strands that were falling into my face.
I lowered my head to the pillow, letting him slowly ease me back down, onto the bed, flat on my belly. What a way to start the morning!
My head was buzzing when I heard Sam say,
"Don't move."
Only a handful of seconds passed, before I felt him wiping something soft across my lower back and rear.
It dragged what sounded like a mewl out of me, because, I was pretty sure every part of my body was overly sensitive now.
The bed shook as he flopped down next to me, and it took great effort for me to turn my head in his direction.
One arm was tossed over his eyes, and my gaze got hung up on that heavy bicep for a moment. He was smiling.
And I automatically smiled.
"Mercedes?" he said, lowering his arm. He looked at me, his blonde lashes so incredibly thick.
And I realized, I've never quite captured them that well, when I painted them.
"Are you on the pill?" he asked.
His question filtered through my thoughts and as the haze cleared from my head, my limbs suddenly went stiff.
Are you on the pill?
Yes, I am on the pill. I took it...when I remembered. There'd been a dry spell this last year, and I always used condoms, so I sometimes forgot to take it.
When was the last time I forgot?
Two weeks ago?
Was it more than one pill?
Oh dear baby Jesus, my heart started to pound.
He reached over with his other hand, rubbing his palm against my back.
"I've never done that before. Swear to God, I've never forgotten to wear a condom. "I wasn't thinking..."
"Neither have I. And yes, I'm on the pill," I said quietly. "But I...I think I missed a day or something a couple weeks ago."
Sam didn't spring out of the bed, like his ass was on fire.
He studied me for a moment, then leaned over and rose up, so he was hovering over me.
After he softly kissed my cheek, he said,
"I pulled out. We'll be fine. And if that didn't work..." He kissed the corner of my lips. "...We'll still be okay."
Oh God.
This man...
A sob crawled up my throat. He wasn't freaking out about the slight chance, that some sort of insemination just went down.
He was being so wonderful about it...perfect, actually.
And me...I just had sex with him...again...unprotected sex. I let my hormones get the best of me, and I still hadn't told him the truth about that night.
He kissed me again and then playfully smacked my bum as he rose.
"Come on. An orgasmic omelet awaits us," he said.
I stared at him from my prone position on my belly and a boyish grin crossed his features, as he rolled off the bed.
He bent over and grabbed his pants off the floor. Pulling them on, he winked at me.
"Mind if I use your toothbrush?" he playfully asked.
At this point, did it matter if he did?
"No, but there are a couple of spares in the medicine cabinet."
"Your ass better be out of this bed by the time I get done." He winked, then turned and walked out of the bedroom...barefoot and shirtless.
His pants weren't even buttoned!
I lay there for a moment, unsure of what I should freak out more over...the fact I was a bitch, for still not telling him the truth, or that I could've just gotten myself knocked up?
Okay. The knocking up part was highly unlikely and I needed to devote my freak-out energy, to something more relevant...the whole bitch part.
When I heard the water turn off in the bathroom and the door open, I was the one who sprung from the bed like my ass was on fire.
I'd just grabbed a pair of cotton shorts and a tank top, when Sam appeared in the doorway.
I was still buck-ass naked, and he totally noticed.
Striding back into the bedroom, he wrapped one arm around my waist, lifted me off my feet and kissed me.
He tasted of mint and male, and I almost dropped my clothes.
"You're moving too slow this morning," he said. Bending at the waist, he hoisted me up over his shoulder. "I have to intervene."
I let out a shriek, that was a half-startled laugh.
"Oh my God, what are you doing?"
"Taking your sweet ass..." His hand landed on my ass, causing me to jerk. "...Yeah, this sweet ass to the bathroom."
"Please don't drop me...I'm not a string bean you know. I'm..."
He smacked my ass again and like before, I shrieked.
"I would never drop you, baby. I've got this, trust me."
He pivoted around, as I held on to my clothes for dear life and then walked my sweet ass to the bathroom, depositing me on my feet.
His hands lingered though, on my bare hips and then my breasts.
He made a deep sound in his throat, as he lowered his forehead to mine.
"Now, I'm thinking about getting you in that shower and..."
"Go," I laughed, pushing at his chest. "As much as I like the idea of us getting all wet and whatnot, we're never going to get that omelet."
'Or get to talk.'
"Hmm."
His hand slipped to my rear.
Tugging me against him, he squeezed, and as crazy as it was, my body started to rev up all over again.
The man was living, breathing sex!
He brushed his lips to the skin just above my eyebrow.
"I'm thinking about saying fuck the omelet again."
Oh my. The idea was tempting. Everything about him was tempting, but I managed to get him out of the bathroom, to make our omelets.
While I cleaned up, brushed my teeth, and then washed my face, I made myself promise, I was not going to let anything get in the way of talking to him.
Taking a deep breath, I caught my reflection in the mirror, as I tugged my hair up in the ponytail.
Where in the heck were my glasses?
Good question.
My cheeks were flushed, my eyes wide, and my lips had that swollen, totally been-kissed-for-hours look.
I straightened the blue and white polka-dotted toothbrush holder and then made a serious expression at myself in the mirror.
I looked half stupid.
Everything was going to be okay, I told myself.
Sam...well, he wasn't going to be happy, but he would be okay.
I mean, hell, he didn't flip out about the unprotected sex thing, and he basically said if we just created a baby Sam or baby Mercy, then we'd be okay.
So he had to be okay with this. I was just making a mountain out of a molehill.
Like Kurt would've said, I was being a drama queen.
Time to pull it together.
Sighing, I whirled around and left the bathroom.
Spying my glasses on the coffee table, I snatched them up and slipped them on.
Sam was in my kitchen and he'd already found the frying pan, which wasn't hard, since it wasn't like I had that many cabinets.
The eggs were already on the counter and he looked at me over his shoulder, as he grabbed fresh peppers and a bag of shredded cheese out of the fridge.
Seeing him in my kitchen, shirtless and barefoot, with all that golden skin on display, was something I could really get used to.
I wanted to paint him...like this...with his back to me, the muscles corded and strong.
"I was thinking," he said, tossing those items on the counter.
He went for the milk next.
"I got to work tonight and you're working Wednesday through Saturday, right?"
Edging into the kitchen, I nodded.
He cracked a couple of eggs into a bowl, he'd dug out of the cabinet.
"That makes doing dinner and a movie hard..." He paused, glancing back over at me. "By the way, I really want to make love to you, when your glasses are on."
Warmth swept across my cheeks.
"You are so naughty."
One side of his lips kicked up.
"Babe, you have no idea all the things I want and plan to do to you. Years worth of ideas."
I gaped at him.
"Years?"
"Years," he insisted. "Anyway, back to the dinner and the movie. I was thinking, we could do more like a lunch and then grab a movie another day, since it will be hard to work both in, with our schedules."
All I could do was stare at him, as he found seasonings and made the omelets.
He was making plans for us...multiple days worth of plans. That damn swelling feeling was back in my chest.
"It's either that, or wait until we're both off next Monday," he said, raising his arms over his head and stretching as the omelets cooked.
Dear Lord, that sight...all the muscles rippling, the pants hanging indecently low...was pure sin.
"But I really don't want to wait until Monday. Do you?"
"No," I whispered.
When the omelets were finished, Sam pulled the pan off the burner, and I finally moved.
I grabbed two plates and glasses out of the cabinet.
"So, how does Thursday sound?" he asked, slipping one perfectly folded omelet onto a plate. "I know Friday will be tough for you, visiting Kurt and all. So we can grab lunch."
I blinked back sudden tears again. Dammit, he was so thoughtful.
Hurrying to the fridge, I grabbed the tea.
"Thursday would be great."
"You okay?" he asked.
When I turned, he was placing the plates on my table, but his eyes were on mine.
Clearing my throat, I nodded, as I walked the jug over to the table and then grabbed the silverware. But a look of doubt was on his face.
"I'm okay," I said as I sat. He was slow to sit down across from me. "It's just that..."
"What?" he asked, watching me closely.
"It's just that...I've liked you for so long, Sam. A really long time."
The half-grin was back. He picked up a fork and offered it to me.
"Babe, I know you have."
I stared at him blandly.
"Did you now?" I cut off a piece of omelet and popped it my mouth. "Oh God," I moaned. "This is good."
"Told you. But yeah, I spent a good part of that time, ignoring that you liked me, because, there was a high chance your father would've gutted me, if I made a move on you, before you were old enough to buy liquor. And by the time that rolled around, well...shit was going on..."
Sam frowned and his features tensed.
"Wait. Damn! I just thought of something. Did we use a condom that night?"
My stomach dropped all the way to my toes. If I hadn't been sitting down, I probably would've fallen over.
Oh shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. I had total shit for brains, as I stared at him.
Blood drained from my face as I clenched the fork and the tasty omelet turned to dust in my mouth.
"Fuck," he said, scooping up egg. "We didn't use a condom, did we? Guess that's water under the bridge at this point."
Taking a deep breath, I straightened my shoulders. It was truth time. Hopefully not crash and burn and sob time.
I placed my fork on the table.
"There's something I need to tell you."
Perhaps, that wasn't the best way to start this conversation.
A piece of fluffy egg dangled off his fork, as he sat back against the chair. His brows rose.
"Is there?" The tone was level, but it made me shiver nonetheless. "About what, Mercy?"
"That night..." I swallowed, and the small amount of omelet I had eaten, soured in my stomach. "...When I drove you home."
He stared at me a moment and then finished off his omelet. Pushing his plate back, he rested his bare arms on the kitchen table.
"What about that night?"
My heart was pounding like I'd just done sprints up and down my hall.
"I honestly don't even know how to say this, other than I wish...I wish I'd talked to you sooner and realized that you weren't regretful of sleeping with me. That it was more of you regretting being so drunk. I was just so embarrassed and mad..."
"Yeah, I know you were mad. That's nothing new," he cut in. "And like I said, I wish I had clarified what I was saying, when I had the worst hangover known to man."
Me, too, but that wasn't the point.
Like Kurt had always said, I was kind of the act-first-and-never-ask-questions kind of gal. This mess was mostly my fault.
"That night, once we made it back to your place, things got...well, they got really hot, really quick."
"I figured as much," Sam commented dryly.
Lowering my gaze, I blew out a long breath.
"When we got back to your bedroom...which is a really nice bedroom by the way. Totally loved your bed. It's huge. Nice comforter, too."
"Mercedes..." His lips twitched.
I dropped my hands to my lap, curling them into tight fists.
"We didn't have sex, Sam."
There. I said it. Like pulling off a band aid.
His brows knitted together as he tilted his head to the side.
"What?" he laughed.
"You...you passed out before anything could happen. We didn't have sex."
Saying it out loud made it easier to keep going, as I met his disbelieving stare.
"We started to, but you passed out, and I stayed with you to make sure you were okay. I didn't realize you were that drunk, until then."
Sam stared at me.
"And when you woke up in the morning, you...you thought we'd had sex," I explained quickly. "You just looked at me and said last night shouldn't have happened, and I wasn't thinking about the fact, we didn't actually do it."
Leaning back against the chair, Sam pulled his hands off the table and then put them right back.
Silence loomed and unease blossomed.
"The morning just got away from me...you know why, and I left, and...I just...the whole situation got away from us...from me. You were avoiding me. And I told myself that I needed to tell you, as soon as we started talking again, but..."
A ball formed in the back of my throat, making my voice hoarse.
"I'm sorry. I should've told you that morning. I should've pulled my head out of my ass and told you then. I was going to tell you last night, but it didn't seem right to do so. But that...that was our first time, Sam. There was no other time before that."
Sam slowly shook his head and he laughed again, but the laugh was short and full of incredulity.
"I...I just need to make sure I understand this correctly," he said.
The unease spread like a noxious weed, as he shook his head one more time, closing his eyes briefly.
"For the last year, you have been pissed off at me, because, you thought I regretted having sex with you, when in fact, we never even had sex?"
I opened my mouth, but what the hell could I say to that?
"So, you've ignored me. You've called me names," he went on. He laughed that abrupt, abrasive laugh again. "You've cussed me out, over what you thought I meant, about an act that never even happened?"
I squeezed my eyes shut for a moment.
"I was upset, because, I thought you regretted having sex with me."
"But we didn't have sex."
I shook my head.
A muscle flickered along his jaw and his face hardened.
"Are you fucking kidding me?"
I've always suspected, he wasn't going to be thrilled, once he learned the truth, but I still flinched.
He stood, walking away from the table. I had no idea where he was heading, but he stopped in the middle of the kitchen and faced me.
A long, pregnant pause stretched out between us, before he said,
"Do you even know how crazy I've been driving myself, because, I couldn't remember that night? Remember what it felt like to hold you...to be inside you, and fall asleep and wake up with you? That after the shitty year I've had, I topped it off, by not remembering sleeping with the only girl I've ever cared about. Do you even understand how that fucked with my head?"
My breath hitched around the messy knot in my throat.
"I can't even count how many times I've tried to remember it and God knows how terrible I felt, for not remembering our first time. For thinking I might've hurt you somehow," he said, rubbing his left hand over his chest, above his heart. "And this whole fucking time, nothing even happened between us? Are you seriously joking right now?"
"No," I whispered, blinking back hot tears. "I should've told you..."
"Hell's yes, you should've told me. You had eleven months to tell me, Mercedes. That's a long time."
I stood.
"Sam..."
"Instead, you've been lying to me this whole time?" His brows rose, and for a moment, I saw everything I never wanted to see, written across his striking face.
Pain. Hurt. Disbelief. All of those mingled with the anger that tightened his jaw.
"Wait. Not actively lying...just letting me believe in a lie."
I started around the table.
"I'm sorry. I know that sounds lame, but I am so sorry. It's just...at first you weren't talking to me and then so much time passed and..."
"And you didn't know how you'd be able to talk yourself around that lie? Sounds fucking familiar," he spat. I knew at once he was talking about his father. "Honest to God, Mercedes, I never thought..."
He didn't finish his sentence, but he didn't need to. He never thought I'd so brazenly lie to him, and I had.
Pain sliced through my chest. I wanted to crawl under the table, but I forced myself to stand there and take it like a grown adult.
Sam opened his mouth, but the muted sound of a phone ringing, interrupted him.
Pivoting on his heel, he stalked over to where he'd dropped his bag last night and yanked his phone out of the side pocket.
Stay safe!