Fifty Shades of Cena

by Keeper of Oz

John Cena has been the face of the WWE for ten years. Holding deep secrets, he struggles to maintain his image and his privacy as any cost. A chance meeting with a unique young woman guarding her own deep secrets - leaves John questioning his future. Can they learn to trust each other with their secrets or will they let it all fade away?

23. Chap23 family blacklash

Disclaimer: I own nothing associated with the WWE. I am simply a fan girl who feels compelled to visit their amazing and wonderful world now and then. Author's Warning: This chapter does contain some adult sexual content. If that bothers you, please read the chapter just "skip" those parts –

Author's Note: I don't know what I can possibly say after such a long absence other than I'm sorry. All of you who have read, followed, favorited, or reviewed this story mean the world to me. This is more than just a story / fan-fiction to me. This will be the very first story that I have seen from beginning to end – and that means everything to me. To those of you who have taken the time to drop me an email here and there asking about the future of this story – I thank you from the bottom of my heart. After all this time to know that someone out there is still interested in how this little tale of fiction ends is inspiring.

One last thing, I have to dedicate this chapter to TakerAlways. All I can say is that without her constant presence this chapter would not be here. Thank you girl, for reminding me that this little tale is almost over and that everyone has hurdles in life and in writing – this has definitely been mine. All mention of Ashley and her relationship with the Undertaker belong to Taker Always. She has just been gracious enough to let me "borrow" her friends from time to time. To all readers of fan-fiction / wrestling fans if you are not reading TakerAlways work then stop what you're doing (well after you read and review this chapter of course LOL – and go read all of her work) So without further ado here is …..

Chapter 23

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(Mercedes P.O.V.)

Over the next couple of days, John and I settled into a routine of sorts. He tried to teach me to fish. I personally think all of my giggling probably scared the fish away. We went swimming and walked along the beach. I was even able to convince him to go into all of the tourist shops with me; so I could find interesting and unique souvenirs for Aurora, Murphy, and Vaughn. After shopping we walked along downtown – holding hands giggling over the silliest of things.

After all of our running around we were just going to spend today at home. John said he had some phone calls to return. So I decided to make use of his sadly under used crockpot. I quickly threw together my grandmother's infamous pot roast before heading outside for some me time. Taking a copy of my favorite book, I headed out to the pool. I was able to sit and enjoy the peace and quiet for about an hour; before my worries about returning to work crept up in. The last few days with John had been near perfect. We laughed and talked. During the night when he reached for me was amazing; there was just the two of us – no family, past, most importantly no ghosts. I can't adequately describe the freedom being with John created in me. Twice I had declared my love for him. As scary and liberating as that was; the fact that we still hadn't talked about was scarier. Was I certain that I loved John? Was I just latching on to the first man to show me positive attention and affection after my ugly past? I had told John the truth – he knew everything about me. Jake and my family hadn't scared him off – maybe loving him wouldn't either. I laughed mirthlessly at myself. Who the hell did I think I was kidding? There were no ands, ifs, or buts about it; I was falling in love and that truthfully scared the hell out of me.

I'd spent the last year or more hiding from my family. I covered up everything going wrong between Jake and me. I wasn't prepared for them to see the ugliness, to judge me or my decisions. I could finally see my mistakes the last few years. Guess it's true what they say hind-sight is always twenty-twenty.

The distance I put between me and my family the last couple of years left me miserable. Uncle Paul and Aunt Steph were, well like second parents to me. I wanted them and the girls in my life so very much. We had been a close knit family before Jake – I wanted that back. Judging by Uncle Paul's reaction earlier this week- that was probably going to be easier said than done. He made it pretty damned obvious that he didn't like John and me together. My uncle was a deeply stubborn man - I knew changing his mind could be an uphill battle.

Could I go toe to toe with my uncle – my family? Was I really ready to pick one over the other? Would my uncle really make me choose – the family over my relationship with John? What about John? Where did he stand with all of this? He'd put up with so much of my baggage already. Could I honestly ask him to fight my family / his boss? Could I walk away from my family again? Was I strong enough to do that? Where would John land in all of this?

I'd talked with Aunt Stephanie a couple of times since Uncle Paul's little visit. I knew she was more ok with the situation than he was. I could always go back to the cooperate office and work for her. I would still have my job with the WWE, but far less travel time. Less travel meant less time with John. Could either of us deal with that? I wanted to scream – so many damned questions and just simply not enough answers.

Dropping my book beside the lounge chair I stood. I was going to head inside check on dinner and then check in on John. My grandmother's pot roast would be our last meal here together. John and I were scheduled to fly out later this evening – duty calls. We would arrive just in time for 'Monday Night Raw.' Our week together had flown by. Except for my few phone call with Aunt Stephanie I had more or less pushed the outside away. One way or another reality was coming back full force tonight. Once we boarded that plane, it wouldn't be just me and John. My uncle, the rest of the WWE locker room, and the world at large was waiting for our return.

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(John's P.O.V.)

We finished our last meal in Tampa in relative silence – both lost in thoughts of what was to come I suppose. Soon after take-off, I encouraged Mercedes to try and get some rest during the hour long flight. I promised to wake her a few minutes before landing. Yawning just a little, she finally tucked herself in close to me, resting her head on my shoulder before dozing off.

All too soon we had landed. Mack met us at the airport with the bus – God bless him. Within thirty minutes we were pulling into the arena parking lot – at the talent entrance. Since landing, I'd watched Cedes get lost in her own head. It was almost as if I could see the wheels turning from across the bus. Was she thinking about work? Was she already contemplating the work load that awaited her? Was she thinking about me? A few moments later, a small tender smile ghosted across her lips – she was definitely thinking about me. As Mack maneuvered the bus into a space, I took the seat next to Cedes on the sofa. Taking her hand in mine I absently toyed with her fingers. "You still with me baby girl?" I whispered.

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(Mercedes P.O.V.)

Smiling bravely as I felt the bus shift into park – I squeezed John's hand in affirmation. "Let's do this" I whispered. Grabbing our bags, we set off for the arena together hand in hand. The butterflies in my stomach felt larger in number than the entire U.S. Army. I hadn't spoken to my uncle since that night at John's house. I wondered if he had cooled off any – As John pulled open the heavy door I knew I wouldn't have to wait long.

Just inside the door, the change in atmosphere was dramatic. The back stage was hard at work doing what they do best – pulling together a live show. The excitement of crew and talent a like coming together to put together one amazing product was unmistakable. To the right of the door was the event directory sitting tall on an old art easel. Checking it, I noted that my office was right around the corner and that the locker rooms were over two corridors. Squeezing John's hand I found myself not really ready to let go. The past week we'd been safe together in my own little happy bubble; tonight that bubble was about to explode. With a deep breath for courage, I kissed his cheek and started to head for the office.

"MERCEDES….JOHN – WAIT UP!" turning I watched a young new production assistant – Jason I think racing towards John and I. "H has been expecting the two of you…he's waiting for you in his office."

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(John's P.O.V.)

For someone who had been supposedly waiting for us the office was surprisingly empty. Quietly I dropped into chair in front of the desk; while Mercedes booted up her laptop – and we waited. Maybe fifteen – twenty minutes later I could hear my mom in my head "John Anthony Felix do you want to tell your father about this or should I?" Standing hurriedly from my chair, I pulled my cap from my head turning the brim through my fingers. "This is bull-shit Mercedes. He's got us waiting here like a couple of little kids getting sent to the principal's office for misbehaving in class or some crap."

Tucking her laptop onto the cleanest corner of the desk; Mercedes came to stand directly in front of me. Sliding her hands up my chest and around my shoulders – I sighed when I felt her fingertips brushing against the back of my head. "Well" she drawled nice and slow, "there really isn't anyone else I would rather misbehave with than you Mr. Cena." She giggled. I couldn't help it the mischievous gleam in her eyes drew me in as I dropped one, two, three soft, wet, innocent kisses across her full lips.

Of course timing doesn't seem to be in the cards for me and Mercedes. Just as her gentle teasing and soft kisses begin to wash away my tension – Paul comes barging through the door.

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(Mercedes P.O.V.)

The temperature in the small arena office dropped a noticeably with my uncle's dramatic entrance. I'd questioned myself for hours about how I would face him in this moment. I knew acceptance from him would not be an easy road. I honestly feared if it was a road I could walk down with or without John. In the end, the sound of a mere door slamming eerily closed made my decisions for me. I was with John. While I might not know where this would lead or how it would end; I was strong enough to see it through to the end. I could only pray that my family was strong enough to accept my decisions. Taking John's hand in my own I turned to face my uncle for the first time in nearly a week.

His face was cold; a mask that had left bigger and worse than me cowering in their boots. My knee-jerk reaction was this isn't my uncle before me but the cerebral assassin – except for the eyes. I guess it's true what they say. The eyes really can be a gateway to the soul. His face may scream bad-ass but his eyes were all Uncle Paul; full of conflict and deep emotion.

With a cool once over, he turned his attention to his desk, taking a seat before speaking. Gesturing for both of us to sit down he waited before he spoke. After a minute maybe longer he began to speak calmly almost detached. "I see you two have made a decision – good for you! I've also made a few decisions. As both of you are employees of the WWE and are subject to its rules and regulations. I'm sure you will understand it's only what's best for business." Rummaging through several pages in his hands, after a moment he appeared to find exactly what he wanted. Handing us both a copy he spoke with a small bitter smile "I'll leave you both to look this over. If you have any questions you both know where to find me."'

Excusing himself he left the small office just as quickly as he'd entered. Reading through his "its best for business statement" I shuddered. Punishment is the only word that came to mind. He objected to my relationship with John so he was going to punish us for it. According to him, he suddenly needed me to travel directly with him one more day a week. He also wanted me back at the main office one more day a week than I was now. Up till now I'd been traveling pretty heavily with John when both our schedules were in sync. This would be a big dent in that. He also warned against "public displays of affections" as a distraction to the other staff, crew, and talent. I was fuming. If the staff, crew, or talent had any idea of the relationship between John and me it was purely speculation. Hell, I was the one who pleaded with John to keep 'us' under wraps for as long as possible. Still clutching John's hand, I could feel his tension. The sheer anger rolled off him in waves.

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(John P.O.V.)

"This is fucking bullshit Mercedes – Paul is obviously out of his mind if he thinks is going to work,"

I felt her wince at my words. A part of me felt as if I was overreacting, but this was my life and who the hell was my "boss" to tell me how to live it. I couldn't take this out on Mercedes. None of this was her fault, but boy was I pissed.

"What does it say?" Her innocent question throwing me back a step. Her innocence in all this just one more reason I was damning me and Paul straight to hell for all eternity. Tossing the loose pages into her lap I laughed bitterly. "He thinks I'm going to spend the next several weeks being his fucking errand boy."

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(Mercedes P.O.V)

The next three weeks flew by in a blur. John and I spent more time talking/texting than actually seeing each other face to face. Before traveling to Tampa with John he and I made our schedules work together as often as possible – especially to and from Raw and Smack-down. Whenever I was home in Connecticut he would travel to me as often as his schedule would allow. In return whenever I could arrange it I would travel to him. In the last twenty-one days I think we've managed to travel together twice maybe three times. Life with Uncle Paul's new little "business plan" sucked.

Sitting at my desk, I stared at my computer; nearly ten minutes later I realized that I had typed the same paragraph three times. Shaking my head I deleted the duplicates and tried to start again. Fifteen minutes later my concentration still wasn't for shit. Reaching for my phone I was just about to text John when Paul walked in the door. "Mercedes did you finish that typing that proposal for Stephanie yet?"

"Figures" I thought to myself. "Just finishing it now," I replied with a somewhat haughty grin.

"Bring it to her office as soon as you're finished." He answered rather coolly before turning quickly and striding away.

This was my job. A job I may not have wanted in the beginning but one that I thought I was becoming really good at. How much longer could this go on? I was becoming most mentally and physically exhausted. I'm a grown woman and if controlling my own life meant that I needed to find other work than maybe that's what I needed to do.

Giving my head a good shake, I finished Stephanie's proposal and rushed it over to her office in record time. Free for the next hour or so I decided to head out for lunch. I needed some fresh air to clear my head.

Uncle Paul flew out that afternoon for several meetings regarding the new WWE Network. Sadly I was genuinely shocked when he didn't insist that I accompany him. Sneaking out of the office a couple of hours early I headed home. Alone in my bedroom I decided a long hot bubble bath was just was the doctor ordered. Nearly two hours later, my water was cooling but the effort to get out and dry off was more than I was mentally capable of at the moment. My relationship with my uncle was never simply uncle-niece. My entire life Uncle Paul was more like a big brother when I was younger and a father as I grew older. Today though he was neither of those things – today all I saw from him was an overbearing, thick headed ass. Lost in my own confusion, I barely heard my aunt come home with the girls. I may not be able to talk to my uncle but I could still talk to Aunt Stephanie. With a sigh I climb out and slipped into black yoga pants and my favorite albeit slightly stolen John Cena T-shirt. Half an hour later I peeked in on the girls on the living room floor doing their homework before heading to the kitchen. Slipping onto a barstool at the counter I struggled to find the right words.

As I watched, Aunt Stephanie moved around the kitchen with ease. I think it would surprise many in the WWE Universe what a real wife and mother my aunt was. Sure she was a very busy woman, but that didn't stop her from being a great mother and wife. When the opportunity presented itself she was at home with her family doing homework and making dinner just like millions of other families around the world. With a sad smile I realized that this was exactly what I wanted. I wanted a life that was full. I wanted a job – career – whatever and a husband and family to share it with. If I closed my eyes, even for just a moment, I could see that future with John by my side.

"Aunt Stephanie," I began with an almost physically draining sigh. "Can I talk to you about something for a second?"

"Of course you can, Mercedes, what's up?" She questioned as she quickly chopped up red and green peppers for her infamous chicken teriyaki.

"I've been thinking…." I began my words trailing off. With a deep breath I began again. "I've been thinking that maybe it's time that I began looking for my own place again; maybe even trying to find myself another job. What do you think?"

Quickly and efficiently Aunt Steph finished chopping her peppers before scooping up her bowl and heading towards the stove. Long seconds passed before she spoke; "You're a grown woman Mercedes having your own place makes sense. As for continuing to work for the WWE – well I hate to see you leave a position you have grown into so well because of things between you and your uncle." Turning away from the stove she took the stool across from me. "Have the two of you really spoken since you and John have been back from Tampa?"

Leave it to Aunt Steph, to get right to the point. She definitely didn't get where she is in life by accident I suppose. "I've tried Aunt Stephanie, but lately it seems if we're not talking about business then we're not talking or we're arguing. Either way you look at it nothing changes."

Her laughter bubbled up brief and ironic "you know he would never admit it. I imagine he might even be upset at me for pointing it out. Yet, when it comes to you and our girls he is more and more like my father every day"

"You've mentioned before that your father wasn't entirely happy when you and Uncle Paul first started dating. Why was he so against it? What finally brought him around?" I asked with some small hope that the same thing would be true for Uncle Paul.

"Mercedes, you know my parents. I'm married, raising kids, and 'running' a multi-million dollar company and my parents are still both very over-protective of me – some things don't change. However, he did come to realize that Paul and I loved each other very much and that nothing he said or did was going to change that. Do you love John, Mercedes?"

I nearly choked. Did I love John? Hell yes I loved John! Did John love me? Well I guess that the million dollar question here isn't it. "Yeah Aunt Steph…yeah I love John. I love him very much." I almost couldn't meet her gaze. I knew her next question would be whether or not he loved me. Who was I kidding, there isn't much Aunt Steph missed. She knew I doubted John's feelings for me.

Taking in was I'm sure was a long pitiful face on my part, Aunt Steph took the seat beside me. With her hand on my back she spoke with motherly love. "Life is short Mercedes; if John makes you happy then my advice to you is to fight for it. I don't want to see this come between you and your uncle. Talk to him. In the end only you can decide what makes you happy – what you're willing to fight for."

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(John P.O.V)

Racing down the highway, I watched without seeing as the scenery flew by. My thoughts wrapped around 'my Cedes.' Regardless of what I thought of it – H's 'best for business' plan was working. Sure Mercedes and I saw each other during Raw for a few minutes here or there. For reasons that I didn't want to examine to closely; I nearly killed myself to get to every Smack-down taping I knew for certain Mercedes was working. Where was all of this heading? In three weeks, Mercedes and I had spent one night together. She was supposed to ride from Raw to the Smack-down taping with some of the divas but missed her ride.

Kicking back on the sofa I closed my eyes. Inhaling deeply I swore I could still smell her damned perfume. Only on board once in three weeks and I think I can still smell her perfume. With hours of drive time left, I spoke briefly to Mac before heading back to the bedroom. Absently pushing the door closed, I stripped down to my boxers and collapsed onto the bed. Snatching a pillow from the head of the bed I gripped it tight. My gut twisted as her gentle vanilla-lavender scent clings to my over-stuffed cotton pillow. Pushing back against the headboard I know a moments fear and doubt. Tossing the pillow aside as if her lingering scent is a physical burn across my skin I scrub my hands across my face.

"What the fuck!" I whisper aloud. I actually married Liz and yet she never twisted me up like this. I promised myself this would never happen again. I told myself that when I walked away from Liz that I wouldn't go down this road again. My life was wrestling, traveling, living on the road. I would make my time with "friends," women who knew the score; women who were open to what I could offer and nothing more. An innocent, beautiful, sexy, smart, funny, damaged, loving brunette certainly wasn't part of the plan bosses niece or not. My head was beginning to pound from the sheer force of my thoughts. Reaching across the bed I set my IPod to shuffle and turned the volume up just enough to be heard over the roar of the bus. As the opening notes of 'Just another Romeo & Juliet' by Pop Evil filled the bedroom, I closed my eyes, trying to will myself to relax. Mere seconds later my cell phone rings, for a moment I give thought to ignoring whoever it is, until her custom ring tone fills the air. I can no more not answer it than I can withhold the air from my lungs.

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(Mercedes P.O.V)

His soft "hello" after three rings sets the butterflies in my tummy to spinning like mad. "Hello" I reply my voice a near whisper as I struggle in vain to control nerves that I'm not sure I understand. I wait for his usual flirty banter – the silence continues on. After a time we both speak.

"Cedes…"

"John…"

I laugh anxiously, "You go first," I answer craving a return of our easy flirtatious conversations. The need to hear his voice is crushing me. It really doesn't matter what he says at this point. He could simply recite the alphabet over and over again and I would be ok with that. Hell I at this point, I think I would be begging for more before he got to 'Z.' His gentle laugh – holding just a pinch of the nerves that I feel comforts me.

I can feel the smile in his voice from my head to my toes as he asks about my week. I sigh, as I push aside the unusual tension between us and begin talking about my week. I briefly tell him about work at the office. He laughs when I tell him about the silly conversations I've had over lunch with Celeste about life backstage. I end with snippets of hanging out with Aunt Steph and the girls. As my words die off I ask about his week.

I listen intently as he talks about life in and out of wrestling. We talk about phone calls with his brothers. We talk about him accepting a role in a new Tina Fey / Amy Pohler movie. Wrestling may be his first love – first passion, but acting is definitely in his blood – under his skin. He's excited about the new possibilities. He ends with telling me that Mac's daughter called – looks like Mac is going to be a grandfather.

I can't contain my squeal of excitement. "That's great news John! Please give Mac my best. He must be so excited."

We talk for a few minutes more about Mac and his family before the silence ensues again. The urge to fill the silence overwhelming me – I mutter the first asinine thing to cross my mind. I shiver, "I think mother-nature missed the memo about it being summer time here in Connecticut – its cold as hell here right now." Smacking my hand against my forehead, I nearly groan. What a damn spaz thing to say. I've had raw earth shattering sex with this man and all I can think to talk about is the fucking weather. What the bloody hell is wrong with me?

I hear his groan about the cold. He laughs telling me one or two stories about summer cold snaps growing up in Massachusetts. I can't help but laugh as the image of John as a little boy fills my head. Sitting cross legged in the center of my bed, I grunt realizing my right foot has fallen asleep. Stretching a breathy moan escapes as the 'pins & needles' sensation fills my foot.

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(John P.O.V)

This whole conversation is a pain in the ass. Since when do I have to try so hard to talk to a fucking woman? For fucks-sake this is Mercedes I'm talking to; the first innocent ray of light in my life in a very long time – hell if ever. Scrubbing my hand down my face in frustration all of our time together fills my head. Our conversations, secrets, confessions, our time in Tampa all of it racing through my mind. Our time in Tampa takes over my mind completely. The way she gave herself to me overwhelming my thoughts. This woman is my lover. I know her intimately, I know what makes her scream with pleasure, I know her scars and her past and yet I'm sitting here talking about the fucking weather with her. What the hell kind of sense does that make?

Listening closely I hear groan and then seconds later her breathy moan. That sound – that breathy little moan only last a second maybe two but it's enough. That one sound – so brief, but none the less, brings to mind that soft breathy little sigh, I heard just before each and every one of her orgasms. Unwelcome and with piss poor timing as usual, my 'other head' decides to remind me all about his feelings of neglect. Mercedes and I have been alone together one time in the three weeks since coming back from Tampa. Alone one fucking time, and then we were both to damned exhausted to get past some serious heavy petting. My mind screams "I want my fucking woman and I want her now."

I hear her moving rustling around. "Mercedes, baby-girl what are you doing?"

Her laughter fills the line. "I was sitting on the bed, but my foot went to sleep. I'm trying to stretch out but the pins and needles are killer." She laughs once more. I laugh almost unconsciously at her words. The thought of her stretching out alone on her bed driving my thoughts places they probably shouldn't go. "Uh, Mercedes, baby-girl, what are you wearing right now?" The words are out of my mouth before I can think twice. I don't know whether to laugh or be mortified – I sound like a horny fifteen year old boy trying to make time with the first girl in his life.

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(Mercedes P.O.V)

Answering without pause, "yoga pants and a red t-shirt, why?" The little voice inside my head reminds me none to gently that my red t-shirt is actually his red t-shirt. The low growl I hear zip across the open phone line have the butterflies in my stomach standing at attention. Just as John starts to speak, I burst out laughing. "Uh, John isn't asking a woman what she's wearing when talking on the phone the universal opening line for phone sex."

His deep animated laugh fills the line. The sound of his honest laughter washes over me – easing the tension that's been present the whole time we've been talking. "What if it is…are you offended…does the idea of phone sex with me bother you?" He asks with that deep, low, husky tone that I have come to love.

I choose my words carefully. "Did I say I was offended? I don't think that I did. I was just asking a simple question."

"Well since were asking 'simple questions' I have one of my own. That red t-shirt you said you're wearing; it wouldn't happen to be the same red t-shirt you stole from me?"

My first thought is to deny it – to draw our little game out longer, "What if it is? Does that bother you?"

His deep hungry growl fills my ear. "Tell me Cedes…is it mine?"

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(John P.O.V)

It's not the first time she's worn my shirt. I stood silently by as she packed in her suitcase. Hell I've slept next to her when all that separated me from her soft bare skin was my shirt and a pair of silky pink panties forever etched into my brain. With that said why was the idea of her wearing my shirt suddenly giving me a massive case of blue balls. '"Answer the question Mercedes, are you wearing my t-shirt?"

Her laughter followed by whispered "yes John." Her next question catches me off guard. "Does that turn you on?"

What's this, my little innocent vixen is trying to turn the tables on me. Any other time, I'd give her the lead; let her turn the tables on me so to speak, but not tonight. Tonight it's been to long since I've had her in my arms. It's been too damn long since I felt her warm willing body accepting mine. "Take it off Mercedes…" I demand – certain my desire is evident in my voice.

Seconds tick by…turning quickly into one minute and then two "I'm not asking Cedes…I'm telling you take off my fucking t-shirt now."

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(Mercedes P.O.V)

The huskiness of his voice, the more than evident desire lacing every word, the pure male dominance I hear with every sound he makes has me doing just as he asks. "Give me a second," I murmur softly. Laying the phone beside me on the bed I quickly slip his shirt up over my head – tossing it to the foot of the bed. Leaning against the slew of pillows pushed up against the headboard I smile. The coolness of the room teases my now bare flesh. Picking up the phone I whisper "done."

"Are you wearing a bra or are you bare" the desire in his voice growing.

"I'm bare John…no bra…" I reply with a naughty little giggle.

"Are your nipples hard? Do you want to play with them? Are you playing with them?" His questions coming rapid fire; a very telling sign just how much he is enjoying this little chat."

"I'm not John, but do you want me too?"

"Fuck Mercedes," he growls, "palm your right breast, kneed it gently, tease your nipple, pinch it gently then harder."

His directions shoot straight through me leaving a growing ache between my thighs. "Mmmmm" I mutter, my thoughts distracted as the sensations take hold.

"You like that Mercedes? Does it feel good? Don't neglect your left breast – tease them both Mercedes. Pinch them baby girl – make yourself feel good."

"John" the single word escaping my lips like a pray; pleading for what I'm not sure.

"Talk to me baby-girl….tell me what's going on in the beautiful little head of yours. Tell me what you're feeling right now." His words are gentle, but no less demanding because of it.

I take a deep breath – exhaling slowly unsure of what to say or do next. I've never expressed myself quite like this before. His words are so raw, earthy, real, and intoxicating. I want to give him the same. I want him to feel the way I do right now.

"You're over thinking this Mercedes," he begins with telling humor and desire lacing his words. "Don't think so damned much just feel – pretend I'm right there with you. Now tell me what your feeling – what you're thinking."

"John," I begin slowly – shyly. "It feels so good. In my mind it's your hands your mouth suckling my breasts…making my nipples hard and achy. I want you John – I wish you were. I want to…"

His gruff words cut me off mid-thought. "Imagine that I'm there with you Mercedes. Slide your pants down off your hips – imagine it my hands touching you stroking you."

Tucking the phone between my ear and shoulder I shamelessly do as he asks. Feeling naughtier by the second I whisper softly "Mmmmm John, I'm not wearing any panties."

"FUCCCCCCCKKKK!" His only reply as I try unsuccessfully to stifle my giggles.

"What's the matter John…does my lack of panties bother you?" I ask my obvious grin coloring my words.

At this point nothing John says or does should surprise me, but that doesn't stop his next words from catching me off guard. "Bother me…Bother me? Let's see, I'm laying here all alone thinking about your amazing hot wet pussy. I suddenly feel like some pimple faced fifteen year old about to rub one off while his girl listens.

"Do it John!" I plead, forcing every one of my needs and wants into my words. "I want to hear you John. What is it you said 'rub one off?' Do it John 'rub one off' while I listen."

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(John P.O.V)

"You first baby-girl, I'll get mine, but I want you to get yours first. Do it Mercedes, do whatever you have to – to make yourself cum right now."

I can hear her restless movements in the back ground. I like the sound – thinking that she as restless – as horny as me. Having her follow my every word – with little teases of her own more of a fucking turn on than I could ever imagine.

"Oh my God! John I'm so wet. Talk to me John, please John talk to me – use your words baby-boy help me cum for you right now."

Tucking my phone between my shoulder and right ear I talk to her. I let my mind wonder as I say every manner of naughty, dirty, sexual thing I can think of. I describe for her in great detail how I wish I was there right now with my head buried between her thighs. My words were meant for her – to encourage her orgasm, but as my left hand grabs hold of my hard stiff cock, I know my own orgasm is not far behind.

I keep talking, rambling mostly my only goal to make my baby-girl feel good. I smile as I hear her exclaim "OH MY GOD! John…John…John…" my name the barest whisper rolling off her tongue. I return her words as seconds later my own orgasm rips through me.

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(John P.O.V)

(Less than one week later)

The backstage area is alive and ticking. Everyone's hustling here and there getting ready to go live with the latest edition of Monday Night Raw. I've got the opening spot at the top of the show. It's only supposed to be a promo – with a possible match at the end of the show. At least that's what I was told; who knows what 'the game' really has in store for me tonight. I purposely arrived at the arena much earlier than needed. Now with thirty minutes till show time; I have a little free time on my hands. Making my way down towards H's office I pray to who or whatever is listening that I can steal a few minutes alone with 'my girl.' As I move seemingly aimlessly down the long corridor, the whole 'my girl' filling my thoughts drags me under. When in the hell did I start thinking of her as 'my girl?' More importantly why doesn't that scare me more than it does? Shelving my thoughts, I knock briskly on the closed office door before entering.

Moving just inside the door, I quietly close it behind me. Sitting with her back to the door, I listened to Mercedes talking on her cell, her long dark hair pulled into a messy bun atop her head. Checking the clock on the wall above her head, I cursed not having more time alone with her. Making her good-byes she quickly hung up the phone and turned around to face me. Her smile so warm and innocent took me a little aback as she stood and came around the desk towards me. Slipping her arms around my waist, she tucked herself into me, her head resting naturally against my chest – my heartbeat. Unable or unwilling to speak, I simply wrapped my arms around her – holding her against me tight. I wanted…needed to absorb her strength, her touch, her smell into me. I lost track of time. I don't know how long we stood there before the knock at the door came.

Pulling herself from my embrace, Mercedes went to the door. Speaking briefly she accepted multiple sheets from the whoever she was talking to just outside the door.

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(Mercedes P.O.V)

Ten minutes later and I was still wishing I had never opened that damned door. John and were standing hand in hand just outside the 'gorilla position' waiting for his music to hit – for him to walk through the curtain and out onto the show. The crumpled piece of paper still clutched in his left hand as he looked at me. I couldn't pin-point all of the emotions swirling deep inside is eyes – but I knew the anger when I saw it. A last minute change from creative was turning what should have been a simple promo into a serious beat-down. John was supposed to open the show cutting a new promo for his upcoming match at the next pay-per-view. It wasn't supposed to get ugly or anything at all not tonight. Yet know it seemed that his simple promo was going to be interrupted by my uncles latest lap dogs 'The Shield' and that John was supposed to take a three on one beating from them before the first commercial break. At a loss for words, I said nothing as his music cued up. Taking the sheet from his hand I leaned in kissing him long and hard; willing all of my unsaid words into that one kiss before watching him walk away.

Several minutes later I sat atop a large storage crate in front of the closest monitor watching all the action at ringside. John was a master at talking to the audience. Whether chanting 'let's go Cena or Cena sucks' the WWE Universe never failed to give John a reaction that he wanted. He truly loved every reaction from them good or bad – said it meant that he was doing his job correctly. Less than three and half minutes into his promo the now all too familiar theme song of 'The Shield' hit "Sierra, Hotel, India, Echo, Lima, Delta.

As quickly as it began the spot ended. The monitors were great for watching – but weren't with shit for details. Yes I sat glued to every second of the action – no I couldn't tell if anything that happened out injured John either by accident or on purpose. I shook as the ugly thoughts crossed my mind. I didn't want to believe that my uncle would on purpose set up his long-time friend and "face of the company" for an injury but at this point I wasn't sure what else to think. Slipping down off the crate I made my way to the trainer's office to wait for John. Whether anything was seriously wrong or not I hopped that would be the first place he would head to. I was right. I stood patiently in the corner as the staff doc gave him a complete once over – paying special attention to his right elbow. Several long moments later the doc excused himself to go for more supplies.

Making my way to exam table I leaned against the edge watching John closely. His words startling in the stark silence, "I'm fine Mercedes go back to work."

The doc had said as much before he left the room promising to be right back. The doc's words were filled with far more emotion and less cold than John's. "John…" I began only to be cut off.

"I'm fine Mercedes. You don't need to sit here and babysit me – go on take your ass back to work. I'm sure Paul is probably looking for you right now."

"John I had nothing to do with tonight – you know that right?"

His only response to watch me with cold frosted blue eyes swirling with emotions I wasn't sure I wanted to name. His silence continued, as I began to pace the room. "Don't do this dammit – don't shut me out John. I don't know what to say John – what to do to make this better."

Slipping down off the table, he stalked me like a wild wolf stalking prey. Pushing me against the door, he smiled arrogantly as he turned the lock – effectively trapping us both inside. "You want to make this better is that Mercedes?" He grimaced as leaned into me whispering in my ear, "the only thing that's going to make me feel better right now Mercedes is to be buried balls deep inside of you. Is that what you wanted to hear."

I watch his face – the emotions still swirling hard and fast in his eyes. I know he thought his words would shock me – hurt me they didn't. Sliding my hands up his chest, I wrap my hands around his cheeks as I bring my lips to his. Our kiss is tentative at first; nothing more than a fleeting brush of my lips across his. All to quickly were like a raging forest fire, the weeks of separation urging us towards what we both need and desperately want.

Lost in the moment, its several minutes before I realize that the annoying background noise I keep hearing is the cell-phone clipped to my hip continuing to ring over and over again. Responsibility clouds my head as I slowly break the kiss and answer my phone. I'm surprised to say the least when I find its Randy Orton on the other end looking for John.

Handing him the phone I whisper "Its Randy – it sounds important."

Stepping away from me, he leans against the exam table and places the phone to his ear. "What's up Randy? I thought you were supposed to be here tonight on Raw."

For several long moments he says nothing else he simply listens. His hand has an unknowing death grip on the phone as all natural color drains from his features. What I wonder could Randy be saying that could be so bad. Then I hear her name "Ashley" John's friend from Missouri I think. Although she and I have only met once I know she's important to John – a dear friend to him. What could be going on with Ashley that has John looking ready to kill? "Randy, tell him I will get there as soon as I can…Yeah I will let you know as soon as I can." With those words he disconnects the phone before tossing it on to the table beside him. Scrubbing his hands down his face he stands "I have to go…now!" His only words as he makes his way towards me and the door. Turning the lock he doesn't turn to face me. "I'm leaving tonight Mercedes…immediately if I can…don't know when I will be back."

Reaching out I wrap my hand around his bicep stopping him. He doesn't turn to face me. "What is it John? Is it Ashley…what's happened? How can I help?"

Without turning his voice devoid of any emotion he speaks "long story no time…I have to go Ashley needs me."

"John…" I plead "please let me help…let me come with you."

"You can't" he whispers before storming out the down and into the corridor.

Author's Note: As I am sure many of you have noticed, I've taken a little creative license with the characters and story lines of Monday night Raw – such as who's on the show and when. I hope that you don't mind to much and continue to enjoy this ride as much as I do. Before I go I have to say that at over eight thousands words I have set a new personal record for long chapters. I HOPE YOU ENJOY