Big Girls Do It Better (3 page)

When the song ended, I was exhausted, feeling as wrung out as if Chase and I had just gone three rounds in bed. The tension was thick enough to cut with a knife, and neither of us knew how to approach it. The chemistry required to share a song like Chase and I just had, that was rare. You could harmonize perfectly with someone, and even give great performances together—like Jeff and I did every week—but to be able to join your souls together for the length of a song, and interpret the music and lyrics to have deeply personal meaning...you just didn't come across that every day.

The next several numbers felt flat, even to me. The rest of the bar seemed to feel it, reluctant to take the stage and sing, not when the memory of Chase's and my song still rang loud in the small space.

Eventually, a chant began. "Sing, Sing, Sing...."

The whole bar caught on, until the chant was echoing off the ceiling and the patrons pushed Chase and I onto the stage. 

Jeff, ever the professional, stuck in a CD and sat back in the shadows.

When the first notes pounded from the speakers, Chase and I rolled our eyes and sighed in tandem. Jeff had put on "I'd Do Anything For Love (But I Won't Do That)" by Meatloaf. 

We killed it. No one could breathe, and I think I saw a few teary eyes as Chase and I sang, the roiling emotions between us ratcheting up even further with every note. I hated Jeff for putting on this song. I was trying SO hard not get attached, not to let my emotions lead me to a broken heart, which I knew was all that waited for me on the other side of anything with Chase.

The crowd went wild when the last note faded. We held hands and bowed, as if we were on stage at Harpos.

Jeff put on fill music and I vanished out the side door. Chase followed, of course.

"Chase, I can't—"

"Come home with me."

We spoke at the same time, and I was so shocked by his words that I could only stop, stunned. Then he kissed me. You know how in
The Princess Bride
it says in the history of the world there's only been five truly great kisses? Well, this one blew them all away. Yes, I know that's the next line from the movie, but I've never thought the kiss between Westley and Buttercup was all that great, for one thing, and for another, this kiss between Chase and I...the stars froze in the sky, and the moon went dark, and all the world stopped and stared, awed at the sheer, breathtaking passion blazing between us. 

At least, that's how it felt to me.

When we broke apart, Chase pulled a business card from his back pocket which already had his address scribbled on it in neat, blocky capital letters. No phone number or email address, just his physical house address.

"I'm going home," Chase said. "If you'd like to know what I want to do with you, come over after your set. If you don't show up, you'll never see or hear from me again. It's up to you."

I took the card in trembling fingers. "Chase...I..."

He kissed me again to cut me off. "It's up to you, Anna. If you're too afraid, I'll understand. Just remember, you never know what's possible until you risk finding out."

And then he was gone, roaring away on a sleek black Ducati motorcycle. 

*   *   *

I stood on the sidewalk in front of Chase's house. It was a modest one-story ranch-style home, a square of grass in front, a detached garage, cracked driveway and a tasteful lamppost in front. The front porch light was on, despite the fact that it was past three in the morning. 

I forced my feet to leave the sidewalk and take the steps up to the front door. My finger hesitated on the doorbell, and then, with closed eyes and a hammering heart, I pushed it.

Chase was at the door within seconds, still in his leather pants but without his shirt.

Holy hell
. I'd felt the muscles of his stomach, had seen his biceps, but nothing could prepare me for the sight that greeted me through the storm door. Pure male perfection, cut muscles defined with artistic clarity, dusky skin taut and hairless, inked across the pectorals and biceps with stunning full-color red dragon wrapping entirely around his torso, writhing with every breath, every shifting of his muscles.

I froze, unable to tear my eyes away. Chase opened the door, took me by the hand, and pulled me in. He'd meant for me to move past him, but I landed pressed against his hot skin and bulky muscles, hands slipping and sliding across his broad shoulders and ridged back, around to his sides and then his chest.

"Why am I here?" I breathed.

Chase grinned down at me. "Can't you guess?" He pulled me into the house, closing the front door with his foot. 

I shook my head. "Nope. I'm a terrible guesser." I pressed my lips to his shoulder blade, and then his neck. "Are we here for pretzels? I am a little drunk."

"You don't seem drunk," Chase said. His hands were resting on my hips, letting me kiss his skin.

"Not drunk, then. Tipsy. Enough to wonder if this is real."

"It's real." He dragged his fingers through my hair, wrapping his fist into it near the nape of my neck. 

He tilted my head backward so I was looking up at him, lips parted in anticipation of his kiss.

"I must be dreaming," I said.

He kissed me, and it wasn't quite the kiss he'd given me in the parking lot a few hours ago, but it was close.

"Your lips don't feel like a dream." He ran his strong hands across my mini-skirted backside. "Your ass doesn't feel like a dream. It feels real enough to me."

"Are you sure? There's an awful lot of fabric in the way," I said. 

"True. We should fix that." Chase's fingers explored the skirt until he found the zipper, tugged it down, slipped his hands between the skirt and my skin to push it down. 

His hands on my bare skin felt like tongues of fire along my flesh. I couldn't help a moan from escaping my lips. Chase buried his nose against my neck at the sound, digging his fingers into the flesh of my ass. I was wearing a thong, a bit of blue fabric across my vag with a few strings around my hips and down my asscrack. He traced the line of the strings, dipping down between the globes of my butt to cup each cheek, then up to my stomach.

"Lift your arms up," he said.

I complied without thinking. He was commanding me, and I normally hated being ordered around, but the gentle promise in his voice had me raising my hands over my head. He drew my shirt over my head, leaving me standing in the middle of his living room clad in only a matching bra and panties. Chase stepped back away from me.

"God, you're beautiful," he said.

"Okay, sure. Shut up and kiss me again."

"I want to look at you first." Chase stopped just out of arm's reach. "You're a goddess."

I rolled my eyes. "Yeah, right." I planted my hand on my hip and put my weight on one leg, posing for him even as my mouth betrayed me. 

Chase went from gazing appreciatively to gripping my arms in anger within the space of an eyeblink. "You're beautiful. You're perfect. I wouldn't change a thing about you."

"You're hurting my arms," I said. "You're sweet, but I"m a bit self-conscious about my size."

Chase loosened his grip, but didn't let go. His eyes bored into mine. "Never, ever say that about yourself again, Anna. You. Are. Beautiful." He stepped into me, and now his skin was brushing against mine, the leather of his pants rough against my legs, his bulge hard and thick against my stomach.

He took me by the hands and led me down a short, narrow hallway to the master bedroom, a simple, tasteful space, light and airy and masculine, neat and smelling of candles. 

He'd lit candles. The man had lit candles. A dozen of them on his dresser and on the trunk at the foot of his bed. I melted.

"Why are you doing this for me?" The words were choked from my lips.

Chase kept pulling me towards the wide bed, covered with a simple comforter and a few pillows. "Because I like you. Because I want you. Because you deserve it."

"No I don't. Not with you."

"Why not?" He stopped pulling and stood holding my hands.

I couldn't meet his gaze, kept my head down and stared at his bare feet. "Because I'm..." I drew a deep breath and forced the words past quivering lips. "Because I'm...a big girl."

Chase's fingers clenched mine, and his eyes went from fiery with lust to wavering with sudden understanding and something awfully like compassion.

"Big?" His voice was incredulous. "You think I couldn't want this with you, just because you're not a size zero. Unbelievable."

He kissed my shoulder, the right one, on the round curve where my arm began. 

"You're perfect the way you are, Anna. You're a work of art." He kissed my chest, just above my left breast. "Don't ever, ever change. Don't ever let anyone tell you you're anything less than a glorious, beautiful sex goddess. Look at me, Anna." His voice was gentle, but firm. He touched my chin and forced me to obey. His eyes were burning with the fiery lust once more. "Listen to me."

"No. Just shut up and fuck me already." I looked away, watched a candle flicker.

"I don't want to fuck you, Anna. I mean, I do, but I want more to do so much more than that."

"Don't mess with me, Chase. This is supposed to be easy. I know what this is. It's sex. One night of hot monkey sex, and then you go back to your life with a sexy little skinny bitch who you get it on with in all sorts of hot positions I could never do."

"You don't know shit, if that's what you think." 

The tone in his voice pulled my eyes up to his once more.

 "I don't even know your last name," I said.

"Delany." He unhooked my bra with one dexterous hand.

He brushed the shoulder straps off and the bra fell into his waiting hand. He set it aside and gazed at my breasts. 

"Chase Delany," I whispered, as he leaned in towards me.

"That's me. And what's your last name, sweetness?" He put his lips on my chest, an inch beneath my throat, and I instinctively arched into his hot, wet mouth. 

"Devine."

He stopped at looked up at me. "Seriously? Your name is Anna Devine?" His mouth returned to my flesh, and this time his lips found the rising mound of my breast. "You really are a sex goddess, then, Anna Devine."

"I'm not. I'm—"

He straightened and his gaze nearly knocked me over in its intensity. "Say it." He took one my tits in his hand, hefting the significant weight of my thirty-eight triple D breast, then the other, running the pad of his thumb across my taut nipples. "Say it, Anna Devine. Say, 'I'm a sex goddess.'"

I met his gaze, steady and hard, and pressed my lips together.

His eyes twinkled. "You'll say it. You'll say it before I'm through with you."

He knelt down in front of me, staring up at me through the mountains of my breasts, his hands around my waist to rest on the swell of my ass. His fingers curled through the strings of my thong and he drew it down over my hips, dragging it slowly, never taking his eyes off me. 

Oh Lord
, I thought, as he brought the panties down past my knees.
He is not...no...he can't be serious...oh sweet Jesus, he is.

His tongue ran up my inner thigh to the hollow where my hip met my leg. My muscles twitched and my breath caught. He kissed my belly, low, just above the mound of my pussy. He was still gazing up at me, even as his tongue dipped down to run up the other side of my thigh, brushing just past my labia once more. 

"What are you doing?" I put my hands in his hair, meaning to tug him up. 

"Worshipping a goddess."

He smiled at me, then pushed at my thigh with gentle, insistent fingers. My stance widened on its own, my legs spreading apart to give him access.

His nimble, probing, licking tongue swiped up between my lower lips, a wet heat against my most sensitive area. I couldn't even gasp, then. He pressed his mouth to my opening and his tongue flicked in, darting against my clit, a single tender brush, but it was enough to make my legs buckle. His arms went back up and circled my waist, supporting me. I put my hands on his thick shoulders and threw my head back as his tongue went back in, and this time stayed in. He licked in slow, lazy, wide circles around the cluster of nerves, sending shockwaves through my body. I moaned. I couldn't help it, not with his tongue drawing from my trembling loins an ecstasy I'd never known existed.

The slow circles tightened and sped up, and the shockwaves narrowed in waveform, rolling over me until I was dipping my knees at each pulse of his tongue against my flesh, pressing my mound against his rough stubble, his powerful arms supporting me.

I cried out, a rasping whimper, and went limp. He caught me, lifted me, actually factually lifted me clear off the ground and onto the bed before I could catch my breath. And then, before the world stopped spinning, he was holding my legs apart, resting my knees on his shoulders and spearing his tongue into me once more, relentless, merciless.

I was on the verge of blowing apart in his hands when he abruptly stopped, disappeared. I made a mewling noise in protestation. 

"Will you trust me?" Chase's voice came from above me.

I fluttered my eyes open to see Chase holding a necktie in each hand. I knew what he was planning, and I was torn between terror and excitement. 

He seemed to understand my hesitation. "If you start to panic for real, just say, 'Chase, please stop.' Three words, and I'll untie you immediately."

I nodded and held my hands out to him. Chase grinned, a wicked smile of anticipation. He tossed the ties on the pillow at the head of the bed, took my hips in his hands and flipped me over to my stomach. I gasped, shocked. He had tossed me like I was nothing, and it had simultaenously made my heart pitter patter in awe, and made my pussy go wet all over again. I was still feeling waves of pleasure from his earlier attentions, and now, with one movement, I was anticipating more.

He took my hands in one of his and tugged me forward so I was forced to crawl with him to the headboard. He took one of my hands and used the necktie to bind my wrist to the post. I tugged on it, but couldn't pull it loose. He did the same to the other hand, and now I was captive for him, hands bound in front of me.