Thank you!
Standard disclaimer.
Mercedes Jones was in a conundrum.
She knows, she should've told Sam, she wanted to leave, but she couldn't seem to do anything, but look down, into his intense green eyes.
After a couple minutes of her not saying anything, Sam reached up, caught her head in his hands, and kissed her again.
She felt her dark locks, come loose and tumble down, so that it hung around them like a velvet curtain.
His fingers found their way into her hair, tangling, as he brought her further down to him and kissed her harder.
The kiss broke and he laid his face against her breasts, seemingly catching his breath.
Mercedes became aware, that her dress was a bit sheer and through it, she could feel the heat of his face against her breasts.
It seemed to burn, like a branding iron.
She knew, she should scramble to her feet and demand that he drive her back to the Lily, but somehow, she couldn't make herself do that.
Her pulse seemed to be roaring in her ears and she was intensely warm all over.
Sam turned his face, ever so slightly and kissed one of her breasts through the fabric.
She leaned back against the trunk of the tree and let him nuzzle there, as feelings she had never yet experienced, flooded her body.
She closed her eyes, feeling his mouth wet and hot through the fabric.
She gasped, breathing hard, her mouth opened, as his hand found the neck of the dress and pulled it down.
A cool breeze washed over her bare breasts, as his mouth latched onto one of her taut nipples.
His teasing tongue, felt like fire and yet, she pulled him closer to her, wanting more.
"Look at me," he commanded, his breath hot against her bare breast. "Mercy, look at me."
She opened her eyes slowly and met his smoldering green gaze, even as he turned his head and deliberately kissed her breast, laving it with his tongue.
She knew, she should tell him to stop, but all she could do, was pull him closer still, until his mouth took more of her breast, sucking hard.
His hand pushed up her dress and stroked her thigh, all the way up to her white lace panties.
Mercedes had never felt such delicious sensations in her life.
If Sam wanted to slam her down and mount her right there in the open, like some common slut, she wasn't sure, she could stop him.
Instead, she leaned over and kissed his cheek, letting her legs fall apart, as he stroked her inner thigh .
"I want you, Mercy," he whispered huskily. "I want to be with you, in a way that you have never before."
Dear God! She was so weak when it came to this man. Hadn't she fought this feeling, since the first time she had seen him? She had to change the subject.
"What…what about the gift?
"Perfume," he said and smiled. He reached into his back pocket and brought out the box. "Let me put some on you," he offered.
Mercedes watched, mesmerized, as he took off the lid, put a dab on his finger, and set the bottle back in the box on the grass. Then, very slowly and deliberately, he ran his finger down between her breasts. Her breath caught.
"I…I don't think…" she lost her train of thought, as his fingers played up and down her exposed chest.
"Mmmm, smells wonderful," he murmured. He bent his head, sniffing her skin, she could feel his warm breath between her breasts, which were begging for his mouth to take them, again.
"We…we really should go…" she began.
"Anytime you say, Mercy," he whispered.
He kissed her again and again, his hand went up her legs, drifting to her inner thigh, and finally on top of her panties, where he started to play with her most private part.
Mercedes suddenly felt warm and damp there.
She forgot everything, but how good it felt to be in his arms, with his face pressed against her breasts and his hand rubbing her panty-clad womanhood.
Sam drew himself up a little, hovering over her, kissing her deeply, as his hand explored the warmth and depths of her tight, wet sweet hole.
Mercedes was on fire, and right now, she wanted Sam to extinguish it.
The grass beneath her felt soft and a slight breeze blew across the wooded landscape. At this moment, there was nothing in the world but the two of them and the scent of the perfume, he had trailed between her breasts. Nothing mattered but being in his arms.
"You're so beautiful," he gasped. "I never realized how lovely you are."
He kissed her again, with such an intense passion, that it almost sounded, as if he meant it.
No one had ever told her she was beautiful.
Her intellect told her, it wasn't true, but she couldn't pull away from the heat of his wild embrace.
New emotions consumed her, she couldn't name them, and she didn't reject him, or object, as his kisses grew hotter and deeper.
His hands moved her, ever so gently, but he was still hovering over her.
Now his fingers felt like gentle flames, as they kneaded and squeezed her breasts.
"Soft as silk," he whispered. "So pretty," he finished. His lips found her breast again, making her arch up, to meet his lips and wanting him to take more of her breast into his mouth.
She grabbed his neck and pulled him down, encouraging him to touch and taste and tease her, until she was shaking and gasping for air.
"Sam…Oh God…Sam…"
"Tell me you want me," he said.
He brought his face up to her and kissed the corner of her mouth.
"Tell me!" He kissed her eyelids and each cheek. He was breathing hard and his face was dark with desire. His green eyes grew darker too, as he took her face in his hands and kissed her passionately.
Did she want him? Hell, yes. She had never felt feelings like these before.
She needed him.
Right now, she needed him, to quench the raging fire within her. She didn't care that they were out in the woods. She yearned to mesh with him, like two wild animals.
Just as she was about to whisper her consent, a sound drifted across the breeze…the off-key, discordant sound, of the army band practicing, with the tuba going, 'oompa, oompa, oompa'…Buford.
Mercedes sat up abruptly, startling Sam and almost knocking him backwards, and then, smoothing her rumpled dress.
"We are out of our minds. I'm a respectable, engaged woman. Take me home this instant." Sam looked confused and angry.
"Mercy…"
"Miss Jones to you," she snapped and tried to stand up, but he was on the edge of her dress. She stumbled and fell back into his arms.
"Do you mind?"
"Yes. I do mind," he groaned. "But I believe that's the end of it," he finished.
"How dare you?"
She grabbed the perfume bottle and doused him with it.
She was still straightening her dress, as she marched, nose in the air, towards his car.
Sam stood staring after her, confused, put-out and reeking of 'Mademoiselle'.
He had only meant to seduce the prim old maid, but when he'd kissed her, passion took over. He forgot everything, but the girl in his arms, the taste of her mouth, her milk-chocolate skin and the most delectable, perfect breasts he'd ever touched, or tasted.
He wanted her, as he'd never wanted a woman before. His pulse pounded in his ears.
"Mercy?"
She didn't answer, or turn around. She actually moved faster, heading for his car, showing a flash of her pretty leg, as she lifted and pulled her rumpled dress.
Sam couldn't move.
He stared at the vision of unconsummated passion, with her mane of dark hair, flowing about her shoulders.
As he stood there dumbstruck, she got into the car and took off.
"Hey, that's my car," he yelled after her.
"So?" she yelled back and kept driving.
"Well, damn! That's the last time I ever left my keys in the car."
Sam stood there, looking at his departing car, as the sound of Major Bottoms' band, floated on the breeze.
At this moment, he wanted to stuff Buford Fortenbury into his tuba.
That raucous riot had interrupted the hottest passion he had ever experienced.
If only, he'd had another five minutes to…five minutes? Hell, he wanted hours of ecstasy in Mercy's arms, between her legs and buried deep inside of her…hours and hours of it.
He cursed himself, for not getting the officer out of her thoughts. If the Town Beautification Committee got wind of what happened, they would laugh like a pack of hyenas and more so, if he couldn't mange to seduce the girl.
The car disappeared into the distance and the June afternoon turned hot and stifling, as only east Texas could be.
It was a long trek back to the house and Sam, like most southerners, wore boots. And as with most southerners, Texans to be precise, 'walk' was a dirty four-letter word, that was not in his vocabulary.
Right now, he couldn't help his situation.
If he called anyone of the guys, he'd never hear the end of it. Plus, he really needed to walk off the excess adrenaline he had.
He looked down at the bulge, that was still prominent at the front of his pants, gritted his teeth, ran his hand through his blonde hair and started back along the dusty road.
He couldn't keep his mind off Mercedes and how she'd surprised him with her hot ardor.
In those few moments, under that tree, he'd needed her like the air he breathed.
And that scared him.
He felt like he was losing control.
And he was always in control, when making love to a woman.
He was beginning to wonder, if he could outwit this headstrong woman. She was pretty smart, he'd give her that.
What was he going to do?
With a resigned sigh, he continued his long walk home.
As Mercedes sped along, she thought about the way she had left Sam.
To be honest, she didn't want him in the car with her.
He might touch her hand, or worse yet, slip his arm around her and then, she'd melt like butter.
She took a deep breath.
The scent of the perfume lingered in her nostrils and in her mind, once again, his fingers trailed between her breasts.
In the distance, the army band played and tuba rose above all other sounds, breaking her from her thoughts.
'Buford, have I been unfaithful to you? How could I, a respectable woman, have let myself be pawed and kissed, by that low-class southerner?'
Her mind returned to the taste and heat of his mouth, the soft caress of his lips on her breasts. Dear God, how could she explain trampy sensations like that, to a high-class gentleman like Buford?
She couldn't even explain it to herself.
One moment they had been looking at the landscape, the next, he was kissing her, the next, she was on the ground, with his hands under her dress and his tongue between her lips.
She must be losing her mind, to surrender like that.
She was putty in Sam Evans' hands.
Everyone in town, said he could talk a dog off a meat wagon, or a cow out of her calf. And they were absolutely right.
Since she couldn't trust herself any more around that randy rascal, she needed to marry Buford, as soon as possible, to stave off temptation.
Surely, one man's kisses couldn't be that different from another's. She recalled Buford's wet, smacking kisses and knew she was lying to herself.
Presently, she pulled up in front the Lily and exited the car, calling for Josiah.
As he came around the house, she could've sworn he had stared at her rumpled appearance.
Or was it her imagination?
She felt her cheeks flush, as she rushed up the steps and into the house. She nearly collided with Carmen, who paused and stared at her.
"You alright, Miss?"
'I must look a mess.'
"Course I am."
She marched up the stairs, with as much dignity, as she could muster, considering her dress had smudges of green from the grass. And there were leaves and dandelions in her hair, which hung in disarray around her shoulders.
Damn it Evans!
He had deliberately tried to seduce her and she had almost fallen for it.
He was probably laughing right now.
She went into her room, closed and locked the door. She had to oversee supper for the guests and Buford was coming over tonight.
Could he look into her eyes and see the guilt there?
Even knowing what a rascal Sam was, it was difficult to resist him. And judging from his smooth manner, he'd probably slept with a hundred women.
That thought annoyed her.
She washed up and changed into a blue denim shirt dress, complete with belt and a pair of black thick heeled sandals with a single ankle strap.
She put her hair up, in a mass of curls, then slapped her cheeks and sucked in her lips, to give them a rosy glow.
Downstairs, she heard the front door slammed, and a pair of angry boots stomping through the front hall.
She opened her door tentatively and peered over the railing.
Sam looked hot, angry and disheveled.
"Mister Sam…what…?" she heard Carmen started to ask.
"Don't ask."
"Okay…but you sure smell good."
"Hell!" he snapped, stomping towards his room and slamming the door so hard, it echoed through the house.
Mercedes smiled.
He was hot and tired...and angry. Served him right.
She floated down the stairs with a serene smile on her face.
Carmen looked at her, as she descended.
"Wow, Miss Jones. You look like your mother."
"I do? When did you meet her?" The old woman paused for a beat in confusion, then blurted,
"I think Miss Sue showed me her picture."
"Oh. Is supper ready for our guests?"
"Yes ma'am. If'fen I can get the girls to set the table. And it would be nice if Mr. Sam could entertain the men with drinks in the lounge. He sure looked, as mad as a hornet-stung hound dog…wonder what happened to him?"
"I have no idea. I suppose, I can set up drinks and cigars for the men in the lounge."
She was still in the lounge when the first of their guests came in.
"Come on in, gentlemen. There's whiskey in the decanter and fine cigars in the humidor," she said. One of the men smiled at her.
"It's a treat, to see such a pretty lady. Are you Mrs. Evans?" Mercedes frowned.
"Certainly not! We're only business partners." Sam came in about that time. He looked fresh and smelled faintly of a woman's perfume.
The guests sniffed and looked puzzled, but Mercedes smiled and avoided his gaze.
"Good evening, gentlemen. Let me pour you a drink before dinner," Sam said. One of the other men smiled and said,
"I believe this is the best place I've stayed in, for a while." Mercedes nodded to him and blushed.
"I should say thank you. And please, pass on the word to other travelers, won't you?"
As she started out of the room, with Sam glaring at her, she called back over her shoulder,
"Supper will be on the table in a few minutes. Mr Evans is a master of the barbecue. I hope you gentlemen like it."
"Yes," Sam said, glowering at her. "I like to build a fire under everything and let it smolder."
Mercedes felt her face flame. She fled the room, leaving the men to their liquor and cigars.
He was mad alright.
Well, let him grumble. She hoped he had blisters on his feet, from the long walk home.
Supper passed pleasantly enough and then, as the diners started to get up, the doorbell rang.
Carmen came out of the kitchen to answer it.
"I believe that is my fiancé at the door," Mercedes said and smiled sweetly at Sam, who was staring daggers at her.
Buford came into the entry hall, twisting his hands with a nervous look about him. He looked as though, he expected Sam, to pick him up and throw him back through the door and down the steps.
"Buford, dear," Mercedes said and went to meet him, with outstretched hands, then linked her arm in his. "Everyone, this is my fiancé. We're to be married soon."
Buford looked at Sam, as if he might make a break for it and run like a jackrabbit.
"Are you ready, Miss Jones? I've borrowed the major's car," Buford stated."
"Ooh! I love driving with a gentleman."
She emphasized the word, as she got her jacket off the coat-rack, by the stairs.
"Don't wait up for us. We may be out a long, long time," she announced.
"Wow!" Buford's eyes widened. "I-I mean, anything you say, Miss Mercedes. The evening is nice and pleasant."
"It's your company, that makes it pleasant, Buford," she said, looking pointedly at a scowling Sam. "Night all. We're off," she finished airily.
As they were leaving, she heard Sam grumbling under his breath.
"What's eating him?" Buford asked, as he helped her into the car. "He looked like he wanted to tear my head off," he finished.
Mercedes shrugged, as Buford got in and started the car.
"Who knows? He's just a low-class gambler…let's not talk about him. I want to talk about marrying you, Buford. You're so fascinating?" Buford perked up.
"You really think so?"
"Certainly. I want to hear all about your ambitions and future plans."
That got him started.
She hadn't realized how often he used the word 'I' until now. In fact, he could hardly get through a sentence without it.
She kept thinking, he might at least mention her and what the future held for them, but he didn't.
At some point, she decided, she could let her mind wander, if she nodded and said,
'Oh really?' and sometimes, 'And then what did you say?' to him, while he droned on and on.
She tried to listen to him, she really did, but her mind kept straying back to this afternoon and what happened with Sam, under the tree.
She hid her blush from Buford, and he finally pulled up along a dirt road, under some trees.
When Mercedes looked around, she realized it was the same place, she had been that afternoon…with Sam.
"Shall we take a stroll?" he asked.
"Uh…no. I don't think so," she started, shaking her head. "There might be bugs in the grass."
"Bugs? You think so?" He sounded alarmed.
"Definitely," she said, schooling her features.
In her mind, she was thinking, the grass might be still matted down, where she and Sam had been indulging in carnal activities, just a few hours ago.
Buford looked disappointed.
"I only thought…never mind," he said, sounding just as disappointed.
Mercedes couldn't care less.
She knew, he might try to kiss her and she definitely didn't want him to kiss her.
The wet kiss he had given her, the night they became engaged, was like being licked in the mouth, by a friendly hound dog.
"Yes, there might be spiders in the grass, Buford, or even snakes," she said with a straight face.
"Snakes?" he squeaked. She had his attention now. "I…I never thought of that."
"So, we can just sit here in the car and enjoy the evening," she offered.
After a few minutes of silence, Mercedes grew weary and said,
"Maybe we should go home, Buford."
"Go home? I thought you said, we were staying out late."
"Did I say that?"
"Yes," he nodded. "You looked right at the gambler and said that."
'To annoy Sam,' she thought.
"Let's just drive around the perimeter of the old fort," she said.
They drove around the fort and down the main street, passing by the Bucket O' Blood, where a few local cowboys were liming out front.
As the car passed, they started to harass the lieutenant, shouting,
"Hey Buford, does your mama know you're out?"
"Hey there, lieutenant, how about buyin' some real men a drink?"
"Just ignore them, Buford," she ordered. And then, "They're just looking for a fight."
"A fight?" His eyebrows rose and his feet hit the accelerator, to go faster. "I wouldn't stoop to fighting in the street or a bar. Even though I've had lessons."
Mercedes sighed, mentally comparing him to Sam Evans. She imagined the Texas ruffian was good with his fists.
"We can sit on the swing, out on the lawn at the Lily," she suggested."
"That goat is usually out there," he said.
"Well, maybe he won't be tonight. Honestly, Buford, are you afraid of a goat?"
"He's a big goat," Buford defended himself.
"I'll chase him off," she said, "And it'll be pleasant sitting under the stars in the dark." He grinned at her. And she noticed he was slightly buck-tooted.
"How romantic. I have a little present for you, my dear."
Mercedes was flattered, but not too happy.
What had she let herself in for? This was getting more and more serious and the thought of sleeping with this man, made her shudder.
"Are you cold, Miss Jones?"
"Uh…not at all."
She didn't want to give him any excuse, to put his scrawny arm around her.
They started up the drive, to the Lily and the goat was nowhere in sight. Buford breathed an audible sigh of relief.
"I'll just leave the car in the drive and we will sit on the swing, out in the lily bed."
"Alright," she answered, and wondered how long she would have to stay out here.
Buford got out and came around to help her out.
But she moved quickly, not giving him a chance, for his hand to linger on her.
They walked out into the center of the lily garden and sat down on the creaky old swing.
Mercedes scooted as far as possible to her side.
Buford turned and looked anxiously towards the big house.
"You think they can see us out here?" he asked.
"I don't know. I don't think so." He stared at the big white bird bath.
"That's an ugly thing. I hope you decide to get rid of it, when you take over here."
"Get rid of it? I happen to like it."
"Well, if you think so, keep it then."
"Remember, Sam gets a say in this."
"Honestly, Mercedes, I wish you'd stop calling him Sam," he said.
He turned towards her and took one of her hands. His hands were small and sweaty, but she managed not to pull away.
"I have an engagement gift for you," he said, smiling.
Engagement. Only hours ago, she had been about to surrender her virginity to another man. She's never felt so guilty and unworthy, as she does now.
"Really? Buford, you shouldn't have." It was probably a ring, and she sighed. How could she marry one man, when her lips still longed for another?
"Well, it's a valuable family heirloom," he started to explain, digging into his pocket.
"It's classic and very tasteful, just like you. I know, my mother will be delighted for you to have it," he finished.
"I don't know what to say, but I'm sure your mother and I will like each other," she said. He beamed at her.
"You are kindred spirits. You'll love Mama and if we go back east, we can all live together."
"If we go back east? I can't imagine why we'd want to stay here."
Texas reminded her, too much of Sam.
She needed to get far, far away from him.
"Here, my darling. This is for you."
He held out his hand and opened it slowly.
In it sat a diamond lily-shaped pin. The moonlight sparkled on it. It was exquisite and it took her breath away.
Buford smiled at her reaction.
'One point for me...zero for Evans.'
I can't say much here, without giving the story away, but I'm sure you guys recall, there's a missing diamond pin.