A/N and Disclaimer: I own nothing from Glee, Carr's story, or any other copyrighted material. I hope you enjoy a smutty little chapter that this update brings. Some of ya'll reviews make me laugh so hard. I just got home from work, and I am cooking dinner...hot wings..,when it's like a thousand degrees. I am going to be burning but not the kind Mercy will be in this update. Please as always forgive all of my mistakes. Thanks again for your amazing support!

Chapter 6

Sam had just finished getting ready for his dinner date with Mercy when he heard a knock on the door. A glance at the clock on his nightstand said it was six on the dot.

Shoshandra had called this morning to ask him a question about the tee-ball schedule, and she'd mentioned that JJ and Silas were having a sleepover tonight at her house. Dear old stepmom didn't even realize she'd made his day.

Mercy was going to be childless for the entire night, and he intended to put that time to good use.

He'd taken care of himself in the shower before getting ready, hoping that would take the edge off.

He wasn't having sex with Mercy tonight.

He'd repeated those words to himself no less than seven thousand times today.

Every minute he spent with her convinced him more and more that she was someone special. Which meant he had to proceed with caution.

They were still too early in the game for him to convince her that he wanted more than sex from her. So until he was certain she felt the same way about him, he would have to move painstakingly slowly, seduce her in degrees until she wanted him badly enough, she wouldn't be satisfied with having sex with him just one time to satisfy an itch.

Sam walked down the hallway to the front door. His apartment was small, occupying about two-thirds of the second floor of the station. Across the hall from his entrance was a large storage area with most of the fire equipment and the top half of the pole he'd invited Mercy to slide down the first day they'd met.

A pole she was looking at when he opened the door. "Change your mind?"

She turned around, shaking her head quickly. "No. I'm good."

Sam stepped back so she could walk in and enjoyed the look of delight on her face when she spotted his dinner setup.

"A picnic?"

He'd pushed back the furniture in the living room and spread out a blanket. He had bought a picnic basket to add to the effect. It looked pretty inviting, if he did say so himself.

"I considered walking with you to the park with this whole setup, but I didn't want us to get arrested for public indecency. There's no way I'm keeping my hands off you while we eat."

"Sam," she started.

"We're in private, per your deal." It had bothered him when she'd asked him not to kiss her or hold her hand in public. Then he'd considered everything Mercy had likely heard about him from the town gossiping people. She hadn't dated since JJ was born, and she was being careful. The more he thought about that, the more he respected her decision. She was a black, single mom teacher in a predominately white town. She did have her reputation to consider for herself and her son.

He wished his parents had been a little—okay, a lot—more circumspect when bringing their revolving door of lovers through his childhood homes. While Dad had more wives, his mom had done her fair share of dating after the divorce, auditioning quite a few "uncles" before deciding Scott could support her the way she wanted—with a new car every few years and diamonds for Christmas.

After his father had caused them to live in poverty which he exacerbated by his drinking and sleeping around, his mother no longer believed in the wedding vow from richer to poorer. She insisted her vows to Scott leave out that part. Scott being an older widowed man agreed to whatever his mother wanted thinking he was marrying a sweet young thing then finding out his mother was almost forty when they married.

Mercy was not like his parents at all. She was being careful with JJ's feelings and Sam liked that. He liked everything about her and especially liked that she was such a good mom.

"And since there's no one here…" He pressed her back against the door and kissed her the way he'd wanted to ever since the other night on her couch. It was a long, deep, hot kiss, their tongues touching, tasting, as his hands explored under her shirt.

Mercy twisted her head briefly to catch her breath. "You don't waste any time, do you?"

"Life's too short not to reach out and grab what you want." Sam lived by those words, always had. Until her, what he'd wanted had always been merely physical, sexual.

Now he wanted a hell of a lot more.

His fingers grazed her nipples. Even covered by the lace of her bra, he could tell they were hard. "You know, I was thinking…"

"Oh, yeah?" Her hands were wrapped around his neck, the position lifting her shirt just enough to give him a peek at her trim waist.

"I think we should do this picnic topless."

She laughed, clearly thinking he was joking.

He wasn't.

"Sam. I'm not going to sit here and eat…" She paused.

"Fried chicken," he supplied.

"Without a shirt on."

"Your bra is going too."

She shook her head. "I can't do that."

"Why not?" he asked, perfectly aware that all of this was new to Mercy. Her sexual experiences were shockingly few. But he'd been on the receiving end of too many heated looks from her not to know she was more than ready to expand on her knowledge.

She lifted one shoulder. "Because it's light in here. You'd see," she sighed, "too much."

Sam gave her a wink. "That's kind of the point." Then he recalled the other night on the couch. The room had been dark, the only light provided by the TV. And even with that, they'd hidden all the naked parts under a blanket.

"I, um…" Mercy ran her hand absentmindedly over her stomach.

"What's holding you back?"

"I have stretch marks. I am far from skinny. And I have a scar. C-section." She gave him a rueful grin as she pointed to herself. "Narrow waist and wide hips."

So she was self-conscious, more than shy. He could work with that.

Sam reached for the buttons on his own shirt, slipping them one by one as she watched. "You're not the only one with scars and you won't be the only one without a shirt on."

She bit her lower lip, her gaze glued to his chest as he continued popping buttons free. Once he was done, he slid the cotton over his shoulders and dropped the shirt to the floor.

"Wow," she mouthed.

Sam worked out. Probably more than he needed to. There was a makeshift gym in a back room of the station. Lifting weights made him better at his job. Some of the equipment as well as the force it took to control the hoses required a certain level of strength.

He was the only full-time firefighter in Lima, Ohio. Even so, it wasn't like he was seeing a lot of action—not even when he considered the times he ran EMT calls—so he killed a lot of down time working out.

And while he wasn't proud of it, Sam had just enough vanity that he liked her response to seeing him shirtless.

"You can touch me," he teased.

Mercy rolled her eyes at him in a way he found adorable. He'd never been with a woman who got his sense of humor. Sam liked making Mercy laugh as much as he liked turning her on.

She reached out and ran her fingers in a triangle pattern—from nipple to nipple then down to his navel. "I don't see any scars," she said at last, her voice breathy, hungry.

His shirt was staying off the rest of the night.

Sam turned his back to her, glancing over his right shoulder to point out the scar. "I was clearcutting some burned trees after a fire. One of the smaller ones fell when I was cutting down a big one. A branch caught me. Twenty-seven stitches."

Mercy ran her fingers over the scar. "Looks like it was a painful cut."

He shrugged. "They gave me some pretty good drugs at the hospital. Happened a few years ago, so it's fading."

He was touched when she leaned forward, ran her fingers over it, then placed a kiss on it. Sam could imagine her doing the same whenever JJ got a boo-boo.

He twisted back around. "I showed you mine."

Mercy blew out a shaky breath but didn't resist when he lifted her shirt and pulled it off. She was wearing a sexy red lacy bra—one he hoped she'd put on just for him. Her hands flew up to cover herself, so he grasped her wrists tugging them down.

"No fair hiding. You're beautiful, Mercy." Sam had told other women that in the past, too many to count, but none of them held a candle to Mercy.

"I bet you say that to all the girls."

Of course, she called him on it. She had a way of reminding both of them of his reputation—well-earned—as a playboy. He was starting to wonder if some of her comments were more for her than for him. Sometimes it felt like she was trying to find a way to either push him away or discover a means of resisting him herself.

Sam didn't have a leg to stand on in that argument, so he changed the subject. "I don't see a scar."

She shifted back a few inches, then tugged the top of her jeans down, lower than he would have thought she'd be willing to do. There, at the base of her stomach, was a thin, line. "Mine's fading too," she said. "Just not as fast as I'd like."

He reached out and ran his finger over it, just as she'd done with his scar. She shivered lightly.

Sam moved closer, placing his lips against her ear as he whispered, "I'll kiss it later."

His promise provoked a breathy laugh from her. "Should we eat?"

Mercy was trying to distract him with food.

"We will. As soon as you're topless."

She frowned. "I am."

He ran his finger under one strap of her bra. "Pretty as this is, it's gotta go, sweetheart."

She raised her hands again, cupping her breasts to hide them.

"I can't suck on those sweet chocolate colored nipples of yours if I can't get to them." And then, because he was starting to understand Mercy and what made her tick, he laid down a more playful card. "Chicken?"

Her eyes narrowed and her hands lowered. "No."

"Good." Sam reached around her with one hand and unsnapped her bra with an accomplished flick.

"I don't want to think about how quickly you just did that."

He chuckled. "Probably best if you don't."

Her hands had returned to the bra, holding the lace in place.

"Put your hands down by your side, Mercy. I want to see you."

Her hands were trembling slightly, but she did as he asked, no longer resisting as he slid the lace away, dropping the bra to the floor to join their shirts.

"Damn," Sam muttered. Mercy's big tits were full, firm, with big brown nipples. "Sweetheart, I…"

He didn't waste the breath warning her before he lowered his head and took one of her tight nipples into his mouth, sucking hard.

Her hands flew to his hair. "Sam," she cried. "God, that feels so good."

He drew on that nipple a few more times before turning to give the other the same attention. Then he lifted his head and kissed her again. He couldn't get enough of her. Her soft cries, her hands running through his hair, and then the sweet, innocent way she lowered them and touched his chest—as if she wanted to dig her nails in.

This was going too fast. He had a game plan for tonight and if he wasn't careful, he'd screw it up within the first ten minutes. Sam forced himself to step away. Mercy tried to follow him, clinging to his shoulders.

"The chicken is going to be cold," he said, his voice husky. He'd never lost control with a woman, but he'd also never felt a pull this hard.

Mercy took several deep breaths, nodding, though he could see she was struggling as much as he was to get her desires under control. "Okay."

Sam took her hand and led her to the blanket. They both sat down and some of Mercy's self-consciousness returned as she tried to shield her breasts with one arm.

"Leave your hands down, Mercy, or I'll tie them behind your back."

She grinned, the threat bouncing off her—even though he noticed she lowered her arm. "That might make it hard for me to eat."

He shook his head. "I'd feed you. Actually, I might feed you anyway."

She gave him a heated look that said the idea of that appealed to her. He tucked that information away for later.

Reaching into the basket, Sam pulled out the bucket of chicken.

"I thought you were cooking for me."

He put a paper plate in front of both of them, placing a leg and breast on both. "Trust me. The colonel does chicken a lot better than I do." He continued pulling out the little tubs of slaw he'd picked up at KFC.

"Classy," she teased.

Her eyes widened when he pulled out a box of biscuits and fries. "Oh my God. This is a feast, Sam. It's way too much food for just the two of us."

He shrugged. "It'll taste just as good as leftovers, and I have a feeling we're going to work up an appetite later. Might need a midnight snack."

"Midnight, huh?"

He nodded. "Yep."

"That's kind of late."

"Won't matter. You're spending the night. I happen to know JJ is having a sleepover with Silas."

"I didn't pack my toothbrush. Or pajamas."

Sam reached out, unable to resist, and ran his finger over the top of one of her tits, giving the nipple a quick pinch. "You're not going to need pajamas. Did you remember to bring your vibrator?"

The way she snuck a quick glance at the purse she'd dropped by the door was all the answer he needed. "Good girl."

She laughed and the two of them dug into the food. Sam was delighted to discover she was as big a fan of a bucket of chicken as he was. As they ate, they both indulged in lingering touches and coleslaw-flavored kisses.

"I can't tell you how long it's been since I've had KFC. Whenever we do the fast-food splurge, JJ wants Happy Meals." She crinkled her nose, letting him know her opinion of that.

"I'll bring a bucket by one of these days, and we can show him the error of his ways."

"Sounds like an awesome plan," she said, and he liked how easily she'd agreed to spending more time with him.

Once they'd finished eating, Mercy helped him pack up what was left and put it in the fridge.

"Want a tour of my apartment?" Sam asked.

"The whole place? Or just your bedroom?" She ran her hand over his chest, placing a kiss on one of his pecs, letting him know which tour she preferred.

"Dammit, sweetheart. You make it really hard for me to take things slow."

She gave him a look that said slow was the last thing on her mind. "You're the one who insisted on a topless picnic."

"Touché. Grab that purse of yours. We're moving this party to the bedroom."

Sam tried not to laugh at how quickly she retrieved her purse.

"In a hurry?" he teased.

"Sam, it's been six years. What do you think?"

He wasn't sure how to reply to that. He knew exactly what she wanted from him.

Hell, he suspected it was his reputation that had gotten his foot in the door with her. Mercy was ready to expand her sexual horizon, and who better to reinitiate her than the town's playboy. Problem was…she didn't know exactly who she was inviting to her bed. She wasn't ready for the knowledge that his reputation was faker than a seven dollar bill.

It sucked that he didn't trust her to run to the hills when she found out the truth. He just couldn't risk revealing himself to her until he was sure she'd stick around. He really liked Mercy…liked her enough that he'd jerk himself off as many nights as it took until he could convince her that they should try to make a go of it. That they'd make a pretty good couple.

Jesus. He'd never once met a woman who actually had him thinking about a relationship without panicking and looking for the exit.

Sam led her straight to his bedroom, leaning on the doorframe as she walked around, taking everything in.

As she pointed to the family pictures he had scattered around the room in frames, he told who was who and how they were related. The Evans/Miller tribe was a pretty big one—his mom was one of three kids, and his dad was one of five. He had countless aunts, uncles, and cousins scattered around Ohio, Tennessee, and beyond, and both sets of his grandparents were alive and kicking.

Mercy marveled at all of that. Her parents were only children. And they had three children, and she was the youngest and only girl, their unexpected later in life baby. Also, she only had one grandmother still living, though she only saw her a couple of times a year.

Finally, she looked at the bed, then back at him.

"Take off your jeans, Mercy." he said.

She clearly hadn't expected to do that herself. Sam crossed his arms, waiting patiently.

"What about yours?" she asked, a hint of challenge in her tone.

He shook his head. "Later." Much, much later. "You first."

She bit her lower lip, and he tried not to smile at how cute it was when she went shy on him. He stayed far, far away from virgins as a rule—for good reason.

When he continued to wait without moving toward her, she unfastened the button and slid the zipper down. She shimmied the panties down along with the denim, not wasting any time. Once she'd kicked off her shoes and the pants, she stood there, her eyes not quite meeting his.

At least she wasn't trying to cover herself up anymore.

Progress.

"Mercy. Look at me."

Her gaze lifted and he smiled. "You're perfect. In the words of John Mayer, 'your body is a wonderland.'"

She rolled her eyes in disbelief not bothering to debate him like he thought and surprised him by telling him, "it's your turn."

"Not yet." He walked toward her, pulling her into his arms when he reached her, the two of them kissing like they hadn't seen each other in a thousand years. After a few minutes, he backed her toward the bed, gently pressing her down onto the mattress.

He'd gotten smart tonight, opting to wear jeans that were a size bigger than his norm. He hoped it would conceal his hard-on without strangling it.

Sam moved her to the center of the bed, liking the way her curly hair looked, lying across his pillow. Caging her beneath him, he resumed the kiss.

Mercy's shyness melted away as she ran her hands over his chest, his shoulders. He placed one knee between her legs, letting the denim rub against her. She was hot and ready, her body gyrating against his leg, seeking more friction, pleasure.

When her hands started to drift lower, Sam grasped her wrists and lifted them to the pillow next to her head. He had a surprise for her. One she'd like. One that would keep her roving hands away from his cock.

He reached beneath the pillow where her head rested and pulled out a pair of velvet-lined cuffs.

"Sam," she whispered.

He ran the short chain around one of the rungs in his headboard, then he clasped her wrists together with the cuffs.

He liked the way she shuddered, the way her eyes drifted closed. When she opened them, he saw desire laced with the tiniest bit of uncertainty.

"Here, feel this," he said, showing her that she wasn't truly trapped. With her hands cuffed together this way, it was simple for her to unfasten the latch, to free her wrists. "If you get scared, if it's too much for you, just hit that latch and shake them off. Okay?"

The smile she graced him with was full of trust. He savored it, drank it in. She was easy to please, which made him want to do it even more.

She left the cuffs fastened around her wrists, her chest rising and falling rapidly as he moved lower. He stopped briefly, taking a few moments to suck on her nipples, then he slid farther down.

Mercy jerked when he opened her with his thumbs to part her so that he had unobstructed access to her clit. Sam sucked it into his mouth the same way he had her nipples.

He kept his arms over her thighs, holding her ass tight to the mattress as he nibbled, licked, and sucked.

Mercy cried out his name several times, peppering it with a few "oh mys" and "oh hell that feels amazing."

He glanced up and grinned when she said, "Please, please. I need you."

It took a few seconds before she realized he'd stopped. Her eyes opened slowly, their gazes connecting.

"Begging?" he teased.

She sighed. "Dammit. Yes."

"Don't stop," he urged, hedging his bets and making sure he got his way by slipping two fingers inside her. She was soaking wet, nearly dripping with her arousal.

Mercy Jones was damn good for the ego.

"Oh my God. Sam, I can't take it. Too good," she said as he slid his fingers in and out, slowly, curving them until he found the sweet spot inside that had her keening like a woman in heat.

Within sixty seconds, her vocabulary had shrunk to just one word that she repeated over and over. "Please."

He kept sliding in and out, stroking her G-spot. The first orgasm was coming this way, and it didn't take Mercy long to figure out the same thing.

"Sam," she cried. "Oh God, I think…I'm coming."

He rubbed her clit with his thumb, recalling how that had set her off like a bottle rocket the other night on the couch. It worked again.

She came roughly, her body shaking as she said his name. He liked the sound of it on her lips, but he wasn't going to be satisfied until she was screaming it.

Sam slowed the thrusting of his fingers as her climax waned. Once it had passed, he pulled them out completely.

"Not bad for the first one."

She frowned. "First?"

"Oh, sweetheart. You've got at least three more of those ahead of you tonight."

She smiled weakly. "I'll be dead by morning."

He kissed the tip of her nose. "I'm a trained EMT. No worries."

"Take off your pants," she said again.

The woman was tenacious.

"Aren't you forgetting something?" he asked, his next means of distraction would hopefully make her forget all about his damn jeans. Hell, if he did it right, she'd forget her own name.

"What?"

Sam glanced to where she'd laid her purse by his bedroom door. "Mind if I grab it? Seeing as how you're tied up at the moment."

"I hardly think the vibrator is necessary. You're pretty damn good with your fingers and mouth. I can't even begin to imagine how good it's going to be with the real deal." Her eyes drifted to his jeans. His cock was thick and hard and too ready to roll.

Rising, Sam crossed the room to her purse. The vibrator was on top, making him think she'd thrown it in at the last minute. He wondered if she'd debated bringing it at all.

It was his turn to frown when he pulled it from the bag.

"Jesus," he murmured.

He glanced up at Mercy, who was beautifully naked and handcuffed to his bed. That was a sight he was going to see in his dreams until the day he died.

She gave him a sheepish grin. "Everything okay?"

He held the vibrator up. "You couldn't find a bigger one?"

His question seemed to amuse her and she started laughing. "I was in a pretty desperate state when I went online for that."

"Used it yet?"

She shook her head. "No."

Sam sighed, torn between laughing and—God—maybe even crying. Mercy had bought the biggest vibrator he'd ever seen, but it still wasn't as big as him. If she couldn't take this…

He pushed that thought away.

"Batteries in it?"

She nodded.

"Give me two seconds." He walked to the bathroom and washed it off, then he looked at himself in the mirror. He wasn't sure how Mercy couldn't see his pained expression. He wanted to take her more than he wanted his next breath.

Then, he glanced at the vibrator again.

"Here goes everything," he muttered to his reflection.

When he walked back into his bedroom, his chest tightened at the sight of Mercy, lying there, waiting for him, her body flushed from her first orgasm.

He placed one knee on the bed next to her. "This is a pretty ambitious toy to start with."

"I've always been an overachiever."

He bent down to kiss her, then lay down next to her. Switching the speed on low, he raised himself up on his elbow. "Open your legs, Mercy."

She didn't hesitate. What she lacked in experience, she more than made up for in enthusiasm.

Sam pressed the tip of the toy to her clit and she jerked, gasped. "Oh shit. I don't think I can take another one of those types of orgasms. Seriously, Sam. I'm still quivering inside from the last one."

"Tough," he whispered, pressing his lips against the shell of her ear as he touched her with the vibrator again. "I'm nowhere near finished with you."

She was prepared this time, but that didn't mean her reaction wasn't just as intense. The third time he touched her clit, he held the vibrator in place. Within seconds, Mercy was lifting her hips toward it. She needed it inside her.

"Sam."

He sat up by her hip, wanting an unobstructed view of her face and as he introduced her to the toy. Placing the head inside her, he paused. It stretched her more than his fingers, but she didn't wince, didn't ask him to stop.

"How do you want it, Mercy?" he asked.

Her brows furrowed, confused by his question. "What?"

"Slow and deep?" He pushed the vibrator in a couple more inches.

"God," she breathed. "Yes."

Sam pulled it out a little bit, then pushed in deeper. Mercy's upward thrust gained her another inch. He worked it inside with a slow in and out motion. She was wet, which helped it glide in. It was nearly halfway when she started to tremble.

"Mercy?"

"So good," she whispered. "So freaking good."

"You haven't heard of your other option, yet," he murmured.

Her eyes opened. "Other option?"

"Slow and deep or…fast and hard?" He punctuated that question with a quick thrust that had her crying out, not in pain but in pleasure.

"Shit. That. Hard, I want that."

The vibrator was sliding in and out a good eight inches, but she didn't complain. Jesus. Far from it. She kept begging him for more, pleading with him to go faster, harder.

Within a few minutes, she came, loudly, but he didn't stop. Sam was too enthralled, too fascinated, too determined to push her limits. He had to know.

Had to…

Have her.

He increased the speed on the toy, turning it to high, even as she screamed and shuddered and pleaded. Moving, he knelt between her legs, running his free hand over her inner thigh as he continued to pound the vibrator inside her. Her hips were thrusting toward him, greedily claiming another inch, as she came again.

She was out of control, her hands still bound above her head. He should have unfastened them before starting this. She'd been bound too long.

"Sam." She said his name with a long shudder as the third orgasm waned. "Please," she whispered, and he saw it.

She winced.

He'd gone too far. Pushed her too hard.

Sam slowly withdrew the toy, turning it off and dropping it to the mattress next to them before crawling over her, kissing her.

It took everything he had not to strip off his jeans and slide into her. He wanted to take her the same way she'd just taken the vibrator. To pound deep, fast, hard. To lose himself in her.

But he couldn't. He'd seen that wince of pain.

He kissed her gently, trying to apologize with his lips, rather than his words. He wasn't sure he could say anything that would make any sense to her.

"Sam," she said, turning her head. He heard a gentle snick, then felt her hands on his face. "Sam," she repeated. "Take your pants off. I want you."

Her words took him by surprise. And not in a good way. "What? No."

"Why not?" She hadn't expected him to reject her. He'd just taken her too hard with that freaking toy. There was no way she was ready for him. God, he wasn't sure she'd ever be ready. She was so tight, so innocent.

"Not tonight," he said, trying to keep his voice calm, soothing. In truth, he was coming apart inside.

There was an animal, clawing to get out, ready to shove off his pants and take her. Claim her.

"Yes. Tonight."

She tried to reach for the button on his jeans. He moved away rapidly, rising from the bed.

"Come back." She reached for him, sitting up as he stepped farther away from her. "I don't understand. Did I do something wrong?"

Jesus. She'd done everything right. Too right.

"Mercy. I need you to listen to me. To understand that I'm doing this for you."

"You're saying no for me?" He heard the tinge of anger in her voice, but he couldn't respond to it, couldn't back down.

"Yes. You're practically a virgin and I just…dammit…I just took you too hard with that toy. Harder than I should have. There's a good chance you'll be sore tomorrow and—"

"I don't care. It didn't hurt. And please, for the love of God, stop throwing my inexperience in my face. I'm a grown woman. I know what I want, what I like. What I need."

"No."

"Don't say no," she urged. "Please, Sam."

"Not tonight. Trust me that this is the right thing." He could see she wasn't finished arguing. Not by a long shot. But he was hurting and too close to the edge. If he stayed in this room, there was a chance he'd give her exactly what she was asking for. And he couldn't do that right now.

"Give me a minute." It was the coward's way out, but he took it anyway. He left the room and headed straight for the bathroom. Locking the door, he unfastened his jeans and took his dick in his hand, stroking it with a firm, hard grip, pumping it as fast as he'd just thrust that vibrator inside her. Sam closed his eyes and pretended he was inside her tight pussy, pounding deep.

He grunted, his climax coming fast. Then he took a few minutes to calm down, steady his breathing.

Washing his hands and splashing cold water in his face, Sam refastened his jeans and unlocked the door. He hadn't been gone for more than ten minutes.

It had been too long.

Mercy was gone.

In trying not to mess up with her; he had messed up with her anyway.