“The Houses for Humanity event tonight is being held in the historic Fairmont Hotel,” Chase informs Kat and me.

His smile is huge, and I’m not the only one who can’t stop looking at him. Kat is dreamily listening to every word. I can’t blame her. He’s that pretty.

Chase continues his history lesson. “The hotel was built in 1906 by a genius architect named Julia Morgan who, incidentally, also designed Hearst Castle. Unfortunately, right before its grand opening, the city suffered a huge earthquake, and the fires that followed took the lush hotel and destroyed it.”

Kat’s eyes widen and a hand goes to her mouth. “Oh, no,” she says.

Chase nods. “The building was rebuilt and opened a year later to the day from when it was ruined.” His voice tips with a sense of pride.

He really has a soft spot for architectural design and history. If he can get past the relationship I have with Phillip, those two would have a lot in common. Phillip is an architectural genius in his own right.

“Just like the phoenix. It rose up from the ashes and became something beautiful in the wake of disaster.” I look out the window as the hotel comes into view. “Incredible.” I can appreciate the symmetry. Sometimes I feel as though I too could rise up and blossom in spite of the horrors of my past.

“I think you’re incredible,” Chase whispers against my hairline before kissing my cheek.

His hand is loosely holding mine on top of his thigh. One finger absently traces the symbol that’s come to mean so much in such a small amount of time. Infinity.

We step out of the vehicle, and I’m taken aback at the property’s beauty.

Chase leads Kat and me through the open floor plan swiftly. Obviously, this is not his first time here. His hand clasps mine, and I smile. In his tux, he’s definitely a debonair feast for the eyes.

“Have I told you how stunning you look tonight?” He nudges my side and kisses the ball of my shoulder.

“Only a couple times already.” I grin.

“That dress suits you.” He squeezes my hand.

He should like it. He paid for it.

Kat makes a point of looking anywhere but at the two of us as we continue through the catacomb of meeting and conference spaces. I slide my free hand down the deep eggplant satin dress and straighten any potential wrinkles. The dress is beautiful in its simplicity. The bodice hugs my chest in a corset style, flowing up into a fanned section where my breasts are tamed but the white flesh still spills over the confines just enough to entice. It seems to be working, because Chase can’t stop sneaking peeks. He ogles me whenever he doesn’t think I’m paying attention.

The satin slides along the rest of my curves, detailing my hourglass figure, and comes to a trumpet shape at the knee. The gown trails behind me a couple feet where it hits the floor. I feel exquisite, like a princess walking alongside her prince.

Kat follows us, quietly taking in her surroundings. She’s lovely and bright in her sienna-colored gown. It has an enticing slit in the full billowing skirt that reaches all the way to the hip, exposing one of her long sexy legs. Crystals line the opening in bursts of sparkles. The light bouncing off the gems make it seem as though her dress is actually lit. The ruched fabric sweeps up her waist in swaths of oranges, reds, and copper before it goes into a halter top. Her hair is swept up in golden waves, complementing the dress perfectly. When we arrived to pick her up, she oohed and ahed over my dress, immediately trying to look inside to check the seams, how it hooked, and the boning systems in the corset. Chase didn’t appreciate her familiarity with my body but watched with a grim set to his lips while she went through the process in the limo.

She gave her approval but stated that if I was going to hobnob with the elite, she’d be making me some dresses in the future. Knowing that would help her career made it okay to accept those gifts. That’s how women bartered. I’d wear a dress she made and tell everyone who designed it, where I got it, and how they could get one. She’d pay for the material and use her own time. Then I wouldn’t have to wear dresses Chase paid for. It would make me feel more independent and less like I was using him for what he could buy me. As it was, I’d already wondered whether I’d lost my pride somewhere under Chase’s bed last night along with the dozen orgasms he spilled from me.

I trail my hand along Kat’s arm. She smiles nervously. I’m not sure if the anxiety is about meeting Carson or in anticipation of meeting “the Chloe Davis,” the new, hot young designer taking Europe by storm with her distinctive fashion designs and eye for detail. My money is on the latter.

We approach an open space where several hundred people are milling about, chatting and laughing. Women and men stand, sipping from champagne flutes and eating tiny noshes from small golden plates at high tables. I can see Carson’s blond head bobbing as he makes his way through the crowd.

His eyes scan Chase, quickly assess me, and then settle on Kat. A huge smile breaks across his face. It’s as priceless as someone who is expecting a Ford Sedan but is gifted with a Ferrari. He eagerly grasps Kat’s hand.

“You must be Kathleen.” He kisses her fingers.

A light flush spreads along her cheeks. I squeeze Chase’s hand and he grins.

Kat smiles shyly. “Carson, I presume. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“The pleasure is truly mine.” Carson’s gaze scales Kat from head to toe.

I can tell he likes what he sees, especially when she shifts her dress and one long toned leg makes an appearance.

Carson visibly gulps. “Would you join me for a drink?”

“Would love to.” She grips her purse and follows him into the crowd. She turns and fans her face and mouths “Hot!” before giving us a sexy wave.

I giggle and wave back.

“Well, that was easy,” I say to Chase.

“Yes, yes, it was.” He shakes his head and grins.

We spend the next hour meeting San Francisco’s elite, including the Governor of California and the Democratic State Senators. Chase is in his element. He poses for photos with government officials, shares best business practices with other major moguls, and even spends a great deal of time explaining his city rooftop greenhouse plans. Turns out he has a division of his company devoted to designing green alternatives for big businesses to cut back on emissions, smog, as well as solar options for energy conservation. Not only is my man philanthropic, but also he’s certifiably green. Such a dichotomy to the shrewd businessman everyone makes him out to be.

My man. Just because he called me “his woman” and had a Neanderthal reaction during our rooftop tryst after finding out about my history with Phillip doesn’t mean he truly meant it in his heart of hearts. People say a lot of things when they are swept away by the moment. It wouldn’t be right to give it more credence than that.

As I daydream by his side, my hair is swept to the side. His lips touch my shoulder, sending threads of pleasure to ripple along the open expanse of skin. He trails baby soft kisses along my neck to my ear. Before I can respond, a camera flash blinds me.

“Back off,” Chase growls at a smiling man holding a large camera.

Jack appears from out of nowhere and drags the man away with a grip on the photographer’s bicep. I can see Jack’s hand turn bright white with the effort to keep a hold of the guy.

“God, I get so tired of paparazzi. Who let him in?” Chase snarls.

I lay a calming hand on his neck and force him to look into my eyes. “Shall we go in and find our table?” I suggest.

He watches my face, adjusts his shoulders, and then nods curtly. Slowly he inhales and exhales before kissing me lightly. It’s not a deep kiss, but what it lacks in intensity is made up for in sweetness and sincerity.

“You’re good for me,” he says, tension easing from his stiff shoulders as I massage the cords of tight muscle. “Come. Time for you to meet my mother.”

That trickle of panic I had earlier about my relationship with Chase starts building, the seeds of doubt swirling like acid in my gut all over again. I’ve never actually met any of my ex-boyfriend’s mothers. Phillip’s mother was quite possibly the closest thing to June Cleaver a woman could get, but since Phillip and I never were officially an item, she doesn’t count.

We enter The Gold Ballroom. The walls are gold with high arching marble stone accents. The tables are square and seat eight. I’ve never attended an event where the ballroom tables were square. Each table is adorned with a sateen gold cloth. Fine china in every size is already set at each place setting. In the middle of the table, a tall hurricane candle holder with gnarled twigs and white cherry blossoms spans the length of the glass. Hovering on the top of the hurricane is a tall candle encased in diamond-like jewels. The candlelight bounces off the glass and cut edges of stone to create a shattered halo around each table. The room is magnificent. Lush, posh, expensive.

Chase leads us through throngs of people to the very front of the room. We are the first ones to arrive at our table. A long golden filigree stand holds the number 1 on an ornately designed card. Under the 1, the name “Davis” is scrawled in cursive. This place pays a great deal of attention to the small finer touches and details. Something I should consider for Safe Haven events. At the front of the room is a stage with a large screen showing a picture of a house with a banner that says “Houses for Humanity—Welcomes You Home” across the front porch.

“Is that what you do with this charity?” I ask Chase.

He looks at the image. “That’s one of our projects.”

“What do you mean, your projects?”

“That’s one of the homes I paid for. It’s one of twenty-five that I funded after Hurricane Katrina hit New Orleans. It was a four million dollar project but well worth every penny.” He smiles.

I am flabbergasted. Without thinking, I grip his tuxedo lapels and haul his lips against mine. He returns the kiss, delving his tongue deep. He tastes of champagne and man. Two of my very favorite flavors. When we both lack oxygen, he pulls away.

“What was that for?” His forehead leans against mine, his breath fanning my face in little bursts. His scent swirls around me in a halo of woodsy fruity goodness.

I inhale deeply. “Mmm, for being you,” I answer, surprised by the deep honesty and public display of affection. I feel eyes on us, like that feeling when you know someone is watching you. Shyly, I take a peek around. We have an audience. I feel the rush of heat pinking my cheeks. All of our spectators are smiling except one, an older woman sitting in a wheelchair not ten feet from the table. She has dark brown hair with a two-inch thick band of gray swooped into an up-do. Her deep red lips are a tight grimace. Cool blue eyes squint and clearly express her distaste for what she just witnessed.

“Are you quite finished?” the woman asks in a clipped tone.

Chase smiles. “Mother,” he says sweetly.

Please no. This cannot be her. She looks crabby, pompous, and downright mean. Maria’s always telling me to watch out for the crotchety old broads because they are “loco en la cabeza,” meaning “crazy in the head.” I smooth out my dress and wipe my suddenly clammy palms over my hips.

Chase holds out his hands and walks to the woman, leans down, and kisses the side of her cheek. She smiles warmly as he puts his hand on her shoulder. She clasps it tightly while her blue eyes turn glacial. She stares at me as if she can see right through me. She knows I’m a fraud. Most definitely not someone of her pedigree. Her shoulders are ramrod straight, her nose is stuck in the air, and she looks like she smells something raunchy. She apparently doesn’t like me, and I haven’t the slightest idea why.

“Mother, I want you to meet Gillian Callahan.”

I walk over to her and hold out my hand. “Mrs. Davis, it’s lovely to meet you.”

She clasps my hand weakly. “I’m sure it is, and it’s Ms. Davis.” Her words catch on the Z sound. “Mrs. Davis was my mother,” she continues.

Okay, so it’s going to be like that.

Chase gestures for his mother to sit at the table. Her attendant wheels her into position. Finally Kat and Carson appear like a huge white flag waving in the wind, beckoning me, saving me from going into battle.

Close behind Carson is another large male. He stands over six feet tall but is not quite as tall as Chase or Carson. His hair is dishwater blond. He wears an impeccably fitting tux that pulls into a nice V, emphasizing his broad chest and narrow waist. He is extremely handsome, though I prefer my dark-haired, philanthropic, green Superman. The man with dark chocolate eyes strides to the table, waving and kissing ladies’ hands along the way. He stares down Chase with a hint of smugness. Chase settles his arm around my waist, and the man does a double take. He stops in front of me, a sly grin plastered on his chiseled face. I dislike him as quickly as Chase’s mother disliked me.

Without looking at Chase, he grabs my hand and brings it to his dry lips. I have to try hard not to revolt, remembering to keep my cool.

“Chase, who is this lovely redheaded siren?”

Chase all but hauls me from the man’s grasp. Inwardly I’m clapping. Outwardly I’m silent, deadly so.

“Her name is Gillian. Keep your hands off her, Cooper.” Chase digs his fingers into my hip possessively.

The man laughs at Chase’s alpha response, tipping his head back to give a full belly guffaw.

“I see you went back to the familiar, though I think this one takes the cake, buddy.” Cooper slowly takes me in from head to toe and back again.

I feel his gaze as if his smarmy hands are trailing along my form. It takes everything I have not to cringe.

“Damn fine, and a redhead to boot. Need me to make sure you don’t ruin your life again?”

Chase stiffens next to me. The tension pours off him like a waterfall. Niagara Falls comes to mind.

“You bastard.” Chase pulls me behind him.

Carson moves between the two men, firmly separating them. We’ve acquired quite a crowd of onlookers during their little tête-à-tête.

I grip Chase’s arms from behind to remind him of my presence and lean my head between his shoulder blades. “Baby, it’s okay,” I whisper so quietly I’m not sure he can hear.

He turns and slides his hands along my bare arms. I see hurt and frustration in his eyes. He’s seething, but I haven’t the slightest idea why. After a couple deep breaths, he guides me with a hand at my lower back to the table, and we both sit.

“I think it’s time for you to take your seat, Coop.” Carson gestures at a seat next to Chase’s mother.

There are two empty chairs between the men, and I’m not sure that’s enough. I’m not sure the state of Texas being between these two would be enough to assuage the anger simmering under the surface. Chase is barely keeping his cool. As Cooper adjusts his tie and cracks his neck, showing he’s unfazed by the little debacle they shared, Chase is on an entirely different plane. His fingers grip the back of my chair, white with strain. The other hand is high on my thigh, rubbing the satin expanse back and forth as if the movement soothes him, not me.

I sit across from Chase’s mother with Kat next to me and Carson next to her. I watch the woman and silently vow to do my best to woo his mother and avoid any conversation with Cooper.

A leggy blonde with a pep in her step rushes through the crowd. She makes it to our table as a man in a tux taps on the microphone at the lone podium. Her dress is made of gold sequins and black silk. It’s fitted to her long, curvy body like a second skin. The sequins are tailored around the lower half of her body in the shape of a high-waisted miniskirt. It’s short in the front and draped with black silk flowing down the back into a train. The same black silk crisscrosses over each breast in a big X across her chest. It’s a design I’ve never seen before. Kat looks at the gown and then the woman as if she’s the Queen of Pop, Madonna herself. The stunning blonde slides into the seat next to Chase and gives him a big hug. Instantly I feel the sting of jealousy roar through my veins and heat my blood.

“Chase! I’ve missed you, cuz!” She kisses him on each cheek.

I roll my eyes and mentally bitch-slap myself. I’m an idiot.

“And who is this lovely woman next to you?”

His cousin is the designer Kat’s been itching to meet. Her honey-colored eyes are soft and alight with happiness as if her whole face is lit with a smile. She is as beautiful as the aura surrounding her.

“This is my significant other, Gillian Callahan.”

Her eyes widen. Seems everyone is surprised by my presence this evening. No more so than I am. Apparently Chase has taken us from merely dating to in a full-blown relationship in one weekend.

“Gillian, this is my baby cousin, Chloe Davis.” He obviously has a great affection for the young woman, based on his ease and happiness at seeing her. The issue with Cooper seems to be overshadowed by her arrival.

“Hello, Chloe. You can call me Gigi. Everyone does. I’ve heard such wonderful things about you,” I tell her.

“I wish I could say the same about you.” Chloe eyes Chase. “Looks like my cuz here has some explaining to do!” She jabs his shoulder.

“Ouch!” Chase mockingly rubs his bicep and most of the table laughs. His mother ignores all of us, looking out over the sea of tables, waving across the room now and again.

Chase introduces Kat, and she nearly swoons.

“I’m in love with you,” Kat says, having a completely foot-in-your-mouth fan girl moment. I put my hand over my mouth to hold back my chuckle. Chloe’s eyebrows rise as Kat cringes, shaking her head.

“I mean, I mean I’m in love with your work!” Kat clarifies.

Chloe laughs. Poor Kat slumps in her seat and looks away, her cheeks turning crimson. Carson puts a hand to the back of her neck, giving it a comforting squeeze, which I find utterly fascinating.

Chloe is sweet and throws out a life preserver. “I didn’t realize anyone in the States has even heard of me!”

Kat instantly pops out of her slump, smiling and clasping her hand under her chin. “Are you kidding? I have pictures of your work pulled out of Italian Vogue and Bazaar. I even put them in a binder I can flip through when I need ideas for costumes!” Kat practically jumps with excitement.

Chloe’s eyes widen. “Really? That’s so cool! Where do you work?”

“At the San Francisco Theatre. I’m the head costume designer for the entire show.” Kat beams with pride. She has worked her way up the ranks and does beautiful work. She slaves over each costume but the proof is in the pudding. Her work is impeccable.

Chloe pays close attention while Kat explains the finer details of the show. “Wow, I’d love to design costumes someday. Sounds very couture and fun!”

Kat nods excitedly.

“Hey, why don’t you and Gigi come to my private showroom sometime? I have a space in the Davis building. Fortieth floor along with a couple other designers. I’d love to get your opinion on my new line showing next spring.”

Kat nudges me and whispers, “Oh. My. God.” Then she composes herself by straightening her back and tipping her head to the side pushing a lock of hair behind her ear like she isn’t completely dying with excitement. “That would be cool. Right, Gigi?” She plows her elbow into my bicep.

“Right!” I say with fervor and a giggle, grasping my bruised arm. “We’d love to come.”

Chase pulls me into his side and nuzzles against my neck.

“You are too sweet. I could eat you for breakfast,” he whispers against my ear. “Mmm.” He bites down on the skin lightly. “I think will.”

“You mean instead of your cookies?” I grin and sip my champagne.

He chuckles and tightens his hold. “Possibly with my cookies.” With one last nibble, he breaks away and chats with his cousin.

The lights dim, and a dashingly debonair man strides through the crowd and pulls out the lone chair next to Chase’s mother and Chloe. He leans down and kisses Chase’s mother’s cheek before looking around the table, his salt-and-pepper hair giving a hint to his age but not distracting from his good looks. He definitely has the Davis genes. He waves at Chase and then stops when Chase puts his arm around my shoulders. The man’s eyes catch mine as he watches us with great interest.

“My Uncle Charles, the man who raised me,” he says.

I nod as Chase kisses my bare shoulder. His uncle smiles coyly, and I return the smile.

His mother tsk-tsks between her teeth, and then focuses her attention on the stage. From the podium, the emcee asks everyone to get settled. The waiters deliver food in a flurry of activity as we listen to stories of people throughout the nation and the world who lost their homes over the past year. The presenter talks about the work the charity has accomplished because of generous donors, such as the individuals in the crowd. A slideshow is presented.

Toward the end of the presentation, the announcer recognizes one special person. “This man has not only given of himself by donating his company’s architectural designs, housing plans, and services, but has personally donated millions to the cause. That is why we would like to recognize Chase Davis as Humanitarian of the Year! Chase, please come receive your award!”

Chase’s head pops back, a shocked expression on his face. He’s surprised. I stand and clap with everyone else in the room. He scans the room and opens his mouth before he licks his lips and looks down. He finally looks up and pulls me into a tight hug. “I had no idea,” he whispers against my ear.

The room erupts in applause, and a spotlight shines over our table. Chase walks to the stage and up the steps. The big LCD screen behind him displays a huge picture of Chase in a hard hat, a “Houses for Humanity” T-shirt across his broad chest, and distressed jeans slung low on his hips. He is standing in front of a dilapidated house, wearing a tool belt. He has a sledgehammer over one shoulder. He looks perfectly edible.

The crowd calms as Chase accepts his award.

“Thank you for this award. Honestly, I had no idea when I came here tonight that I would be receiving the Humanitarian of the Year Award.” He holds up the crystal award. “I really don’t know if I deserve it, for I believe that everyone has the basic human right to a warm place to live, a place to hang their hat after an honest day’s work, and something they can call home.”

The room roars in applause.

“Thank you, I’ll treasure it always. Now, everyone, open up your checkbooks, because now’s the time we give back!”

The emcee returns to the podium as Chase makes his way off the stage. “I couldn’t agree with Mr. Davis more.”

He continues his speech, but my eyes are planted on the man with the shy smile and an award. Chase makes his way back to the table after several handshakes and slaps on the back. I’m still standing, having not been able to sit the moment his name was called over the loud speaker. His gaze meets mine, and it’s filled with happiness and a hunger I recognize deep within because it matches my own need. Chase pulls me to him, slamming our chests together, before he grips me by the waist and spins me in a circle as he kisses my neck.

“Humanitarian of the Year! Such an honor, baby,” I whisper to him.

He squeezes me and then sets me down.

“Way to go, cuz.” Chloe stands and hugs Chase.

Cooper actually claps Chase on the back. “Congratulations.”

Chase smiles and nods. Their animosity toward one another seems to be on hold for the time being.

“Good show, young man.” Charles Davis shakes Chase’s hand.

With a huge smile in place, Chase makes his way to his mother. He brings his award down to her face and she has tears in her eyes.

“I’m proud of you, my darling.”

He hugs her and kisses her on the cheek. She pats his hair like a mother would a small child she adores. She’s not so bad. She obviously loves her son a great deal, and he’s never said a cross word about her. It seems she has an issue only with me. I’ll have to ask Chase his opinion, but not tonight. Tonight we celebrate his achievement! Chase is congratulated by Kat and Carson, who are discreetly holding hands under the table, much to my excitement. Chase may have got Humanitarian of the Year, but this girl is about to score BFF of the year for this hookup. I can barely contain my need to text Maria and Bree with the juicy details of my awesome love match.

After what seems like eternity and several rounds of food, the silent auction winners are announced and a local band starts playing current radio favorites.

A Maroon 5 song is first on their set list and the floor fills quickly with couples swaying to the beat.

Carson grabs Kat’s hand, dragging her to the dance floor. They seem to really enjoy each other’s company, and Kat has altogether forgotten her hero worship of Chloe Davis. She’s more smitten with a certain male Davis at the moment.

“Would you like to dance, Gillian?”

I nod as Chase takes my hand and leads me to the dance floor.

We move and sway to the Maroon 5 song about a woman being stuck on his body like a tattoo. I shimmy my hips left and right rounding out with a little booty tip.

Chase brings his hands over to my hips. “Damn, you’re sexy!”

I laugh and calm the desire to bust out like I do when I’m out with my girls. Maria has taught all of us some serious dance moves, and when the four of us hit the floor, we drop it like it’s hot. Chase twirls me and brings me back to his hard body. He’s actually a good dancer, and I love being pulled against his form every so often. His hands slide up and down my back and grip my hips but never stray inappropriately.

I, on the other hand, am having a trying time keeping my hands off my sexy Superman. As the music sways, so do my inhibitions, which have me sliding my hands into his suit coat and down towards his tight ass. Before I can get to the prize, he grasps my hands and twirls me with a flick of his wrist. I pout and he winks.

We dance through two more songs and make our way to one of the cash bars in the corner of the room. Chase orders me a glass of white wine and a gin and tonic for himself. We sip our drinks and meet with the others from our table. Cooper is nowhere in sight. For that I am relieved. I don’t know what’s between the two of them, but Chase is in a great mood now and I’d like to keep him that way.

“Hey, Gigi! I just received a text from Ria. She says Tom has six extra tickets to the baseball game tomorrow and wants us all to come! Apparently some guys at work couldn’t go. Carson said he’s game. How about the two of you?” Kat says excitedly.

Chase looks at Carson. He grins and bashfully looks down at his shoes and away. He likes Kat! This is awesome.

Chase slides his fingers to my nape and nuzzles my chin. “Would you like to go, Gillian?”

“Yeah, I would. Sounds like fun.”

“Well, then, we’ll go to the game. My company owns a box at the stadium. We could sit in air conditioning. I could have it catered,” he suggests.

My smile fades and I look away. He sees my discomfort immediately.

“What is it?” he asks.

“Nothing. Whatever you want,” I say, not wanting to force anything. I know he’s trying to be nice and helpful.

Chase lifts my chin and looks into my eyes. “What is it? I won’t ask again,” he uses his stern voice.

“If Tom is offering tickets, we should just accept them gracefully. Maybe he wants to impress the woman he’s courting by taking her best friends to the game. I wouldn’t want to rain on his parade.”

“Damn, dude, she told you. Gigi, I like a girl who can speak her mind!” Carson laughs with uncontained glee. “When was the last time a woman told you like it is, Chase?”

“Never,” he says flatly. He kisses me briefly. “You’re honest. I like that. We’ll go with your friends and sit in the seats he has purchased.”

“I’ll text Ria,” Kat says.

“I’ll text Phillip,” I say.

“Excuse me? Why are you inviting Phillip to a couple’s event?” Chase interrupts.

There’s that tone in his voice again, the one that I’m beginning to dislike immensely.

“We are conspiring to set Bree up with Phillip. She admitted at dinner the other night that she has a crush on him. This will be a perfect time to play matchmaker!” I flutter my lashes for effect.

Chase relaxes. “Bree is the one I’ve yet to meet. The yoga instructor?” I nod. “Sounds like an excellent idea.”

Of course he’s happy I am setting Phillip up with another woman. I do love that he’s jealous and possessive over me though. Every girl needs a little of that to make her feel desirable. As long as he keeps it to a minimum, we’ll be just fine.

We finish the evening sliding into Chase’s limo. The drinks have been flowing in copious amounts, and we are all feeling the effects of the alcohol. First stop, we drop off Kat. I’m surprised when Carson gets out of the car with her.

“Would you like me to send Jack to take you home later?” Chase offers.

Kat snuggles into Carson’s chest and whispers something in his ear. “Uh…nope. Won’t need it. She’ll take me home when we’ve sobered up. Get out of here. Go celebrate with your woman, Mr. Hunk of the Year. I mean…what did you win again?” He shakes his head.

“Hunk of the Year. You’re exactly right.” Chase laughs. “Kathleen, please don’t drive him home too soon.” He hands her a card through the window. “This is my business card with my cell phone. Please call if you need anything or would like to have Jack pick him up.”

She takes the card. “I don’t plan on taking him anywhere anytime soon…if at all,” she admits.

Carson gropes her ass and kisses her neck sloppily. I watch through the window in utter shock, leaning heavily on Chase as they make a spectacle of themselves.

“I can’t wait to get you naked,” is the last thing I hear Carson say before Jack maneuvers the stretched limo out onto the streets.

“Holy shit, did you see that? They are totally going to sleep together tonight!” I exclaim.

Chase’s eyes sparkle, and he pulls me onto his lap. “He told me he was going to ride that mare until morning. Make her so bowlegged she wouldn’t be able to walk straight tomorrow!” He laughs.

I snort and giggle with him. “What is he? A modern-day cowboy?”

Chase shrugs. “I guess. He’s always enjoyed the westerns. He actually does have a farm outside of the city where he has a barn and several horses. Says it’s the closest thing to the country he can do without moving to Texas.”

“I like him. He’s a good guy,” I confide.

“He is. And he’ll treat Kathleen like a princess…well, after he’s done fucking her silly. That boy does like to fuck.” Chase’s inebriated state is making him a little more mouthy than usual.

“Speaking of fucking…” I pull up my skirt and slide to the floor.

“What are you doing?” Chase asks as I fumble with his belt buckle. “Oh shit, baby! Here?”

Surprising him is becoming a new fetish of mine. Besides, he needs to let loose more often. I grin evilly. I haven’t had a chance to become close and personal friends with his dick, and right now, nothing short of a car accident could keep me from sucking him off.

I unzip his pants, and Chase looks down at me through half-closed lids. I grip his pants and underwear and slide them down to his ankles. His cock is free and comes alive as I pump it a couple times in greeting. His head drops back to the headrest and he licks those soft lips. He has a beautiful cock. It’s long, very thick, and perfectly pink. Overall the largest out of any of my previous lovers, and it’s prettier too. It’s perfectly straight, standing out proud, anxiously awaiting my attention. I slowly drag my lips and chin along the length, becoming familiar with his scent. The musky smell invades my senses, making my mouth water. I slide my fingers through the dark thatch of curls at the base and grip his length, bringing my lips to the large crown. Chase’s gaze finds mine as I dart my tongue out to lick the tip. He bites his lips and thrusts his hips as I bring my entire mouth over the tip swirling my tongue around the head.

“God, baby, so good,” Chase says breathlessly, eyes never leaving mine.

His words spur me on, and I take him deeper into my mouth, dragging my lips against his length and back, ending at the crown. I tickle the slit at the top with my tongue, forcing him to jerk up into my mouth with a small thrust. Pre-cum leaks out the slit on top, coating my tongue with its salty goodness. Shivers of lust slip down my spine and wet my panties as I imagine the taste of his release on my tongue. I lick the entire length, sliding my tongue up and down him, lathering every inch of his beautiful cock with my saliva. I pull him deep into my mouth until the wide head bumps against the back of my throat. I relax my jaw and swallow around him, breathing through my nose. A deep moan pushes past his lips, and I can feel the muscles of his thighs tighten. He inhales, and I push him down the back of my throat taking him deep into my body. Then I hum and moan around his cock, the muscles of my throat constricting around the crown.

“Holy Fuck, so deep, baby, never before,” he whispers.

I start to move in earnest, taking him down my throat and sucking tightly on my way up. His fingertips lightly caress my hairline as I slide up and down his length. My gag reflex is not strong, and I’m able to relax enough to bring him so deep my nose is tickled by his pubic hair. I take a slow breath in through my nose, and when he’s as deep into my throat as I can take him, I swallow. His hips shoot up at the intense pressure, sliding farther into me.

“Shit, I’m going to come!”

He tries to pull away, but I double my efforts and suck and lick him until he’s begging for release. He threads his hands into my hair and gently holds my head, fingers wound through my hair as he fucks my mouth. I’m wildly sucking his cock as he thrusts once, twice until his entire body tenses, his ass lifting off the leather seat to thrust deep. He groans loud as his release jets into my mouth and down the back of my throat. He’s moaning my name as I suck harder, using my hand at the base to prolong his pleasure. His taste is heavenly. Thick and tangy. I happily swallow every last drop. It’s a dish best served hot, and I’m one hungry lady.

When I lift my head, Chase is leaning against the headrest of the leather seats, pants down around his ankles, wet penis still semi-erect but losing its battle with rigidity. His mouth is open, and he’s sucking in large gulps of air. I smile with pride and cuddle up to his side caressing the soft skin of his thigh, scratching my nails through the light dusting of leg hair.

He turns his head and looks at me, stunned. “I’ve never been deep throated before. You are a goddess!” he says, wonder dripping from his tone.

I laugh. “No, I just don’t really have that much of a gag reflex,” I admit.

“You’re still a goddess, and I’m one lucky bastard,” he says and kisses me.

We take turns leading the kiss all the way back to his penthouse.

Fumbling around, the two of us make our way through the building and up the fifty flights into his home. We’re both dead on our feet. He unzips my dress and turns around to grab his pajamas. He tosses one of his white T-shirts my way, and I remove my bra and throw the shirt on over my panties. He pulls back the covers and hops in. I slide in and cuddle into his chest. I kiss the space covering his heart.

“Thank you for tonight.” He’s silent and unmoving from my spot on his chest.

I think for a moment that he’s fallen asleep, but as I look up, I find he’s watching me. “I’m really proud to be with the Humanitarian of the Year.”

He hugs me and kisses me softly on the lips. His eyes reach mine. “No, I’m the lucky one, to be here with you.”

I smile and snuggle back down to his chest. I place my ear directly over his heart and fall asleep to the sound of his heart beating.