Thank you for all the reviews! I know you all are getting tired of Mercedes pining over Cam and judging Sam unfairly, but sorry, she won't stop just yet. Anyway...This chapter is just samcedes sexiness and fluff! Enjoy!
SAM
I wake up with a raging hard-on and only one girl on my mind. I can barely see the light of dawn coming through the curtains. I know I shouldn't wake her, but I'm almost afraid not to. As much as she gets caught up in her own head, it's hard to tell what mindset she'll be in when she wakes up. So I go to her.
I open the door a crack and listen. I can hear her father snoring downstairs, so I slip out of my room and down the hall, silently entering Mercedes's room. I move quietly. I'm relieved that her breathing remains deep and even. She's lying on her side, facing away from me. Stripping off my jeans, I peel back the covers just enough to slide beneath them. I ease in beside her and snuggle up close to her back. In her sleep, she wiggles her butt against me, settling in closer. I bite my lip to keep from making any noise. She's still naked and the crease of her ass is teasing me. I reach around and cup one of her perfect breasts. Even in sleep, her body responds to me, the nipple puckering. I pinch it lightly between my fingertips and she moans a little, pushing her ass into me again. This time, I push back, grinding my hips against hers. I lean forward and kiss her neck, letting my hand trail down her flat stomach to the little thatch of neatly trimmed hair covering what I want most. Obligingly, she shifts, parting her legs enough for me to slide a finger between her folds. I rub her slowly, gently, until I feel her hips move with the rhythm of my hand. Easing a finger inside her, I find that she's already dripping wet. My body jumps in anticipation, flexing against her backside. I move my hand down to cup her thigh and bring her leg up onto my top one. It opens her enough that I can guide myself into her from behind. It's all I can do not to groan loudly when I slip into her tight sheath. I inhale deeply so as not to make any noise. She tips her hips back toward me, giving me an even deeper penetration. I don't know if it's intentional or instinctive. I still can't be sure if she's awake. Working my fingers back to her moist center, I rub her toward orgasm as I move slowly in and out of her wet heat. When I feel her muscles begin to clench around me, her hand comes up to my hip, gripping me, pulling me tighter against her. She's awake.
I hear her breathing pick up and then she gasps. I feel the spasms of her orgasm and hear her panting softly. I hold her firm and steady as I drive into her, harder and harder. And then an explosion of sensation and I'm coming inside her. Before I even realize it, my teeth are biting into her shoulder. It seems to stir her. She brings her hand up and fists her fingers in my hair, pulling it a little, making me jerk inside her. Damn, I can't wait to see what she's like when she lets go.
MERCEDES
I can't stop smiling. Again. Even though doubt niggles at the back of my mind, it's impossible to think entirely bad thoughts when I'm lying on Sam's chest, tracing his tattoo.
"What does this mean?" I whisper.
"It's the Chinese symbol for awesome," he teases lightly. I giggle.
"If it's not, which I imagine it isn't, then it should be."
"Are you paying me a compliment? I just want to be sure, so I don't miss it." I slap his ribs.
"You make it sound like I'm mean and horrible because I don't throw myself at your feet."
"You don't have to throw yourself at my feet. Although if you want to, I'm sure I can think of something for you to do while you're down there." I look up at him and he's waggling his eyebrows again.
"I'm sure you could." Shaking my head, I settle back onto his chest and resume tracing the ink shapes. "Seriously, what do they mean?" Sam is quiet for so long I begin to think he's not going to answer me. But then he finally speaks.
"It's a collage of things that remind me of my family." I look at each line, not really able to see any discernible images. I trace the things that look like dark fingers.
"And these?"
"They symbolize the fire that took them from me." I lean up onto my elbow and look down into his face.
"What do you mean?" He looks disconcerted for a second before he answers.
"Well, my mother was killed in a boating explosion that was intended for my entire family. My father is in prison for her murder. My brother and I are very… separated. In all the ways that matter, that fire took my family. My home. Now, it's just me."
I think back to Cam telling me about his father being in prison for murder. We never got to talk more about it, so I didn't know his mother was dead and his father was to blame. I want to know more, of course. I have a thousand questions, but I don't want to push.
"Do you… feel like talking about it?" His smile is polite and sad.
"Not really. If you don't mind. I hate to ruin a day that has started out this perfectly."
His grin widens when he reaches down to cup my butt. I feel him getting hard against my belly where I'm half lying on him. I grin, too.
"Well, you're just gonna have to cool your jets. My dad will be up soon and I may not have mentioned that he's a crack shot with a pistol."
"In that case, how about breakfast instead?" I giggle.
"Wise choice, brave heart."
"Don't tease. How much good would I be to you if I let your dad blow my dick off?" I say nothing, only smile. But inside, I feel my heart plummet.
Already I'm thinking that there's so much more to Sam than the fact that he's great between the sheets. He's charming and witty, he's considerate and passionate. He's smart and resourceful. He's all sorts of wonderful things that have nothing to do with his prowess in the bedroom.
And in a public bathroom.
And against the shower wall.
Those thoughts have me feeling lighthearted again in no time.
After Sam sneaks back to his bedroom, I head for the shower. Again. I need to actually bathe this time. I smile the entire time. There's not a place on my body that doesn't seem to be marked with Sam as I rub over it with the soap. And it's a decidedly nice feeling. For the moment, anyway. The reality of my situation threatens to intrude once more. And once more, I brush it back. Ruthlessly. Relentlessly. I'll deal with it on Monday. But I'm taking this weekend and calling a time out. Time out from wisdom and responsibility and all the voices in my head. This weekend is only about Sam and me and all the mad attraction between us.
After dressing in cut-off jean shorts and a Boys Over Books T-shirt, I head downstairs. I'm a little surprised by what I find. My father is sitting at the kitchen table. His casted leg is propped up on a stool, his crutches are against the wall behind him, and there's a day's growth of stubble in place. The most surprising thing, however, is that he's chatting up a storm with Sam, who appears to be making breakfast. A thousand different feelings bubble in my chest as I watch the scene. Not one of them is welcome. Each of them means trouble for me. And for my heart. If only you were more like Cam, I think as I watch Sam add spices to beaten eggs as my father directs him.
"Good morning," I say brightly, trying to hide the sinking feeling that's dragging my heart into a pit of despair.
They both turn to greet me with light and happy smiles. Sam winks at me from in front of the stove, and pure lust twitches in my lower belly. There's no denying this man is hot. Effing hot. Probably hotter than the stove he's cooking on. I jump in to help and let myself fall into a morning that is nothing short of surreal in its Rockwellian charm and appeal. As I sit scarfing down eggs, bacon, pancakes, and coffee, I know that every other morning for the rest of my life will be measured against this one. And probably come up wanting. By an enormous margin.
After cleaning up the breakfast dishes, Sam helps get Dad settled back into his chair and we head for the barn. On the way, Sam peppers me with questions about raising sheep and what all it entails. I try to answer them as quickly and as succinctly as I can, although it's hard to cram a lifetime of knowledge and experience into a few short minutes.
"So what is it we're doing today, then?"
"We are going out to look for the new lambs. The ewes separate themselves and have their babies out in the woods or field. We need to make sure the lambs are healthy, though, and not having any problems that we need to treat. I'll record them and which ewe they belong to. That way, too, we know roughly how long to wait to bring them in to tag them, dock the female tails, and band the male testicles."
"Dock their tails? Band their testicles? Why?" Sam asks, looking fairly horrified at such a barbaric notion.
"We dock the female tails because it's much easier and cleaner for the ewes when they give birth. It's for the safety of both the mother and her offspring. Plus, it's also a way to tell them apart from the young males. As for the males, we neuter them because… well, you know what they'd do if we didn't." Once his shock over the procedure wears off, he grins and waggles his eyebrows.
"Yeah, I do!" Smiling at him, I throw my leg over the wide, padded seat of the four-wheeler and pat the spot behind me.
"Now, it's my turn to drive," I inform him in my wickedest voice.
Sam cocks one eyebrow in that way that I love and very slowly slides onto the seat behind me. He scoots in close, grabbing my hips and pulling me snugly into the V of his legs, pressing his chest to my back. I can feel him along every inch of my posterior. He winds his arms around my waist, his hands settling perversely low on my stomach, making my insides twitch with desire. I feel his lips against my ear when he whispers,
"Ready when you are."
With shaking fingers, I turn the key and crank the ignition. When I rev the engine, I figure there's no way it's running with more RPMs than my libido is at this very moment. If Sam doesn't cool it, I'll be sitting in a puddle within the hour. I pull out of the barn and stop shortly after to open the first gate. One of our several herding dogs runs out to meet us. I reach down to pet his enormous white head.
"Solomon! How are you boy?" I ask of the Great Pyrenees. I bend down and he licks my cheek vigorously, then moves back so I can push the gate wide and pull the four-wheeler through. Sam gets off to close the gate behind us, and that becomes our routine through each gate of each field of the vast 170-acre farm of my childhood. I drive us up and down and around the old familiar paths of my youth, pointing out along the way places and things I think Sam might find interesting. He asks several relevant and insightful questions, leaving me in no doubt that his intellectual aptitude is at least equal to Cam's. Smart and hot.
Sam helps me look for ewes with new lambs. He points out several that are from the spring. Not having been around them his whole life, he can't look at them and see the subtle differences that indicate they are older. But I see it immediately. In the end, we find seven late-season lambs. They're a result of Rambo, one of our rams, escaping his pen again and finding his way to the ewes. Normally, Dad tries to keep all the mating in certain months so that the ewes have the lambs in spring. But occasionally, something like this happens and leaves him scrambling to account for surprise lambs. I make note of each lamb we've spotted. According to my father, he was expecting to find seven to nine. What this tells me is either we'll find a couple more tomorrow when we come out or we'll find a couple dead somewhere. Even after all these years, my heart squeezes at the thought. There's nothing worse than losing lambs. On the way back toward the front field, we see two other dogs and Pedro, the llama. Of course Sam makes a comment about each. I can't help but laugh at his witty observations.
My lighthearted attitude toward the day concerns me, though. Despite the danger of it, I can feel myself being pulled in by Sam, to Sam. It's like looking out on the horizon and seeing a whole new realm of feeling lying just ahead. Along with the ominous clouds of a storm. It would be all too easy for me to imagine us one day taking over the farm. Together. And thinking like that would be a disaster.
Rather than going all the way back to the house, I drive us to the north barn. Playing with Solomon at every stop is a dirty business, because he's filthy. Plus, riding through the tall grass flings all sorts of bugs and debris, essentially adding another layer of dirt on top of the first one. So I head to the barn so we can clean up. It's the closest place with running water. I let Sam clean up first. Then, after I've washed my hands and arms, I wet a paper towel to wipe off with. I drag it over my sweaty neck and chest, then up my arms as well.
When I'm finished, I move to throw it in the trash and find Sam watching me. He's leaned up against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest, staring. He's not smiling, but there's a look on his face I'm becoming familiar with. A heat in his eyes. It's dark and dangerous, and it has the ability to burn me up if I'm not careful. I stop. Not on purpose, but because I feel the world shift beneath my feet when he unfolds his body and moves slowly toward me. I feel like I've been chosen by a lion as his mate and he's stalking me. Sam stops in front of me. He doesn't say a word. He just bends and scoops me up into his arms and carries me back to the four-wheeler. I parked it in the sun on the crest of a hill. It's obscured by woods on three sides. The only thing in the field below is grass. No people, no eyes. Just grass. Tall, tall grass, swaying calmly in the warm breeze. He climbs onto the four-wheeler and sets me in his lap. He looks into my eyes for several intense seconds, watching me like I'm all he sees. And he's all I see. For this moment, it seems we are completely alone in the world, each wholly consumed by the other. Nothing else exists. It scares me that I like it that way. Just him and me. Nobody else.
Cupping my face, Sam kisses me. It's not an overtly ravenous kiss, but there's something just beneath the surface that scorches my insides. It's as though he's trying to absorb something from my soul, like he's taking more than just the physical. With practiced hands, he unbuttons my shorts and rubs his palm across my naked belly. Chills spread down my legs and heat pools in my core. A volcano of hot lava seems always to be boiling just under my skin whenever Sam is around. Winding an arm around me, Sam lifts me and pushes my shorts and my panties down my legs, then tucks them behind the seat. Still, he hasn't spoken. And still, there is that implied danger in being with him, in letting him take me where he wants to go. But I go. I have to. I'm helpless against it. At least for today. Maybe not tomorrow. But today, I go.
Never taking his eyes off mine, Sam scoots back a little and unzips his pants. I can't help but look down and revel in the absolute perfection of him. With confident fingers, I reach out and grip his thick shaft, stroking the hard satin length. When I hear him groan, I see one glistening drop of liquid appear on the head. Sliding back on the seat, I bend forward and touch my tongue to the tip, licking the drop. Then licking him again. I close my lips around him and feel Sam's fingers fist in my hair. I can't fit much of him into my mouth, so I lick and suck my way up and down the sides, cupping his balls and teasing them with my lips and tongue. Then Sam is pulling me up, kissing me. Thrusting his tongue into my mouth, tasting himself in my saliva. Roughly, he grabs my hips and lifts until I'm straddling him. Then, in one sharp movement, he flexes his hips and pulls me down onto him, impaling me. I can't stop the cry of pleasure that escapes my lips. It feels as though it's torn from somewhere deep. Against my will. I ride Sam in the bright sunlight, both of us gasping in the fresh air. I moan when he nibbles my ear. I whimper when he lifts my shirt and bites my nipple through my bra. He tells me how it feels to be inside me. He whispers things he dreams of doing to me. I don't need Sam to tell me I'm all he's thinking of, that I'm all that's on his mind. I can see it in his face, feel it in his kiss. For now, he's all mine. And I'm all his. Absorbed by his passion, by his eyes, by his touch, I lose my grasp on reality when my body succumbs to the throes of my orgasm. The only thing I'm aware of is Sam's breath in my ear and the feel of him coming in time with me. With each pulse, I feel heat shooting into me, intensifying my own pleasure. I'm breathless, my arms and legs wrapped tight around Sam. He's panting against the skin of my throat, his hands splayed over my back, hugging me to him. I could stay this way forever. If only Sam were the forever type. His arms tighten around me as if he knows what I'm thinking. I sigh into his neck and hope that he doesn't.
SAM
The drive from Salt Springs to Atlanta Sunday night isn't exactly a luxurious one. I mean, we're on the back of a motorcycle. But still, Mercedes seems comfortable. I feel her rest her cheek against my back. Her thighs are pressed tight against mine and she's snuggled up like she's content. Only I get the feeling she's not. She's stuck on something in her head again, and I don't know what to do about it. We had sex a dozen times over the weekend, and all I can think about is the next time, the next thing I want to do with her, for her, to her. I can't seem to get enough of her. But it bugs the shit out of me that each time feels like the last time with her. Like she's holding something back. I can feel it. I can see it in her eyes sometimes when she's taken off guard. When she doesn't have enough time to hide it behind a smile. Something's bothering her. I think I know what it is. But I'm just not sure I can fix it, that I'm capable of fixing it.
When I pull up in front of her place, I push the bike onto the kickstand but I don't cut the engine. Something tells me she's not going to invite me in.
And she doesn't.
"I can't thank you enough for everything you've done this weekend."
She's thanking me?
I smile, my normal carefree smile.
"Oh, believe me, it was my pleasure."
She smiles, too, but it's tinged with sadness. And maybe inevitability. I think, in her mind, we were over before we even got started. The question is whether I can change her mind. And how. Even I notice the uncomfortable silence, and I never notice them. Very little bothers me. But this does. I need time to think. But I need to make sure she doesn't. That's when I get into trouble. At least in her head, I do.
"So, you said you could look over some stuff at the club this week, not on your regular shifts. How about tomorrow evening? You don't have to stay late."
I can tell I've thwarted her. She was probably already thinking of ways she could avoid me. But that's not going to happen. I'll get past whatever is bothering her. I won't give her a choice in the matter.
"I'll take that as a yes. And by then you'll have your car back. I'll bring it by early in the morning."
Watching her expression is like watching a pile-on with a bunch of kids. And she's the person on the bottom, about to run out of air. I know I should feel guilty for making her feel that way, but I don't. Not really. I know she'd get some crazy idea in her head that I'm bad for her. And that's just not true. In fact, the longer I know her, the more time I spend with her, the more I believe I'm exactly what she needs in her life. She just doesn't know it yet. But she will. I'll have to tell her the truth eventually. But I'll wait as long as I can. It could be a disaster otherwise. Finally she nods.
"Okay. Sounds good. And thank you. Again. Sam, I don't know—"
"Hey, don't worry about it. Maybe now you'll see I'm not all bad."
I know she's getting ready to respond to that, so I kiss her partially open mouth, slip on my helmet, and take off down the road. The best thing I can do is keep that girl's mind— and her mouth— busy.
This ought to be fun.