by ML Michaels
“Aren’t you going to kiss him!?” Lisa yelled.
Suzie looked at Chad, and finally, after years of yearning, kissed him.
The End
*****
Night Serenade: Cade
A Paranormal Vampire BBW Romance
By ML Michaels
He lost himself in the music of the night.
Standing center stage at a small smoky night club in downtown Clearview, Florida, Cade Heath shut his eyes tight as his psyche flew free; transporting him to another time and place as his lips let loose with a smooth seamless melody that expressed and conveyed the contents of his heart.
As the lead singer of Night Serenade, a classic rock band known for its own unique brand of atmospheric rhythms and romantic, some said poetic lyrics, Cade knew it was his job to perform the songs that fans most wanted to hear; from ballads that included “A Song of Nuit” to rocking, pop influenced ditties like “Let Me Be Your Fantasy.” In his mind, however, these songs signified far more than slick melodic moneymakers.
As the main singer and lyricist of this European quartet, Cade put a piece of his heart and soul into every one of his songs; with each lyric taking him back to a place and time in his life.
“And what a long, long life it has been,” he reasoned, now launching himself full into the invigorating chorus of “Mon Amour”; a rock influenced love song that had quickly found favor with the many ladies who filled his fan base.
As he tossed back his lustrous waist length mane of silken ebony hair, Cade launched his tall muscular form into an undulating, slithering dance; himself surrendering to the rhythm that held the heed of so many listeners.
Little did they know, however, that he sang this scorching, heartfelt song of romance for one woman, and one woman only; a very special lady who had captured his heed—and, of late, his heart.
As many women who seemed to desire him, screaming his name at every show and competing heated for his attentions, he reserved his own attentions and genuine affection for the one lady who seemed unattainable.
“Ah Cade,” he scolded himself, adding as he released a deeply voiced howl that expressed in full the depths of his frustration; an unbearable pain that sprang forth from his soul, that could be inspired only by the keen agony of unrequited love. “Your artistic madness may be cool and trendy, and almost expected of a young musician, but it also can be darned annoying. Why do you not simply surrender the cause—and, for that matter, the lady who inspired it?”
Sadly, the answer to this particular question was all too apparent, even and especially to the man who posed it.
“Cade Heath never surrenders,” he mused, adding with a downright devilish smile, “And while he never would take a woman by force, he will tempt her by fire; discovering the secret of her deepest fantasies and bringing every one of them to life.”
***
She lost herself in the music of the night.
As the manager and press representative for Night Serenade, a touring rock band who specialized in the performance of sexy soulful rock music with an operatic edge, Chloe Morgan found that—on a general basis at least—her job ranked among the easiest and most enjoyable on the independent music scene; and for a vast variety of reasons.
First and most important, at least in her mind, was that her product basically sold itself. A four-man band that consisted of classically trained musicians of upscale European descent, Night Serenade offered a rare brand of rock that combined lovely and elegant elements of classical music with the fun and energy of modern rock. Their debut CD, "Songs of the Night", topped the indie music charts and earned several awards for its creativity, originality, and overall blend of technical precision and raw, even sensual mastery of rhythm. Whether analyzing the complexity of the lyrics and sounds that made up a Night Serenade tune or dancing like a mad fool to the tunes themselves, audiences seemed to lose themselves in the Night Serenade sound.
Oh, and one other likely key to the fast growing success of this Florida-based outfit. All four members of Night Serenade seem blessed with an inordinate level of masculine hotness.
“Oh, granted,” she mused now, seated in the front row of Club Groove; a small but well-kept night club in the heart of Clearview, Florida. "A vast majority of successful rock musicians are at least passably hot, but these dudes just had to go and redefine the concept making the vast remainder of the human race look passing bad in the process. Blast them!"
Normally, she would chide herself for assessing and admiring the looks of her defenseless clients who most surely had no idea that she currently coveted them with as much appreciation and out and out ardor as she usually only reserved for a triple-fudge chocolate sundae. With sprinkles.
Yet, or so she repeatedly told herself, it was her job and duty as the manager of Night Serenade to assess the strengths and weaknesses of each of her clients; doing so, of course, from a purely professional and totally objective standpoint.
So why, then, could she not seem able to tear her gaze from one band member in particular?
All members of Night Serenade, she reminded herself, dazzled the crowd as tall, muscular males who boasted flawless faces and flowing silky hair; hair that they flipped in a leonine fashion as the women in screamed their approval.
As she positioned herself front row center at the band’s second show of the evening, Chloe tried to pay equitable heed to each Night Serenade member: the doe-eyed, ginger haired Blake, a statuesque thunder god who played drums with passionate fervor, Lancer, the enchanting green eyed blond who seemed to embrace and embody the riffs he released on his prime Stratocaster guitar, and Nash, the sly sexy bass player who stalked the stage like a cat with his soft auburn hair and eyes as dark as night.
Given the glorious bevy of masculine beauties that formed the lineup of this popular band, why, she wondered, did she seem so riveted to the alluring lead singer of Night Serenade; the man who now launched into a rousing chorus of his newest erotic love song, "Into You?"
“As per usual, the gent goes wild with his not so subtle double entendres,” she sniffed, even as her senses swam with the sublime wave of pleasure elicited by Cade’s performance.
She listened intent as his deep, smooth tones released lyrics that included “I’m a willing servant at your disposal,” and “Tonight is the night that I fulfill your every fantasy”; her heart beating just a little bit faster as she felt seduced by the sound, also by the words that Cade crooned with undeniable intimacy.
Chloe shut her eyes tight as an alluring host of unbidden images filled her heated psyche; fantasies that showed her sinking in Cade’s strong arms and kissing those sumptuous lips senseless—also pressing her Rubenesque body tight against his hard sculpted frame, engaging him in a sensual tango that just might lead to a more private and sensual encounter.
“No, this is madness,” she chided herself, forcing her eyes open as she began to tick off her usual litany of reasons as to why she and Cade should never get involved; a list that she found herself reciting at length at least four times a day. At least.
“I can't get personally involved with a client. It's bad for business," she reminded herself. "I also can't get involved with any man who happens not to be my boyfriend." She paused here, struggling to conjure the image of her boyfriend Richard; a short, stout man who made his living as a pastry chef. "True he's not precisely Fabio and not always the perfect gentleman either; considering the fact that he abjectly refuses to bring home free samples of his delicious donuts and sweet cakes, insisting that I eat celery sticks instead. Blast him! Yet the man is mine and I do have to respect our relationship; just as I must respect the close and unbreakable bond that Cade shares with his girlfriend Dotty—or is it Kiki? I forget the name of the specific super model that the man is dating this week—but still, she counts!"
Straining to clear her mind of this troubling dilemma, Chloe now forced her gaze toward the stage; also not a good move, as she caught an unneeded glimpse of the singer’s tall scu
lpted form (one clad in only a skintight pair of black leather pants) as he fell to his knees and crawled like a cat across the illuminated floor that showcased his sensual performance.
“I know firsthand that the band’s budget is tight,” she acknowledged, adding as her eyes devoured a hard massive chest that gleamed golden in the lights above him, “but can’t he afford a shirt?”
Her rebellious gaze scanned the length of his graceful but muscular form; admiring the sleek sinewy movement of every hard muscle and graceful limb, as well as the luxurious flow of the midnight black hair that swung back and forth with his every move.
She took in her breath as he surged suddenly upward, tossing this hair back in a leonine motion to reveal his carved smiling face—as well as two passion narrowed ebony eyes that now flashed seductive in her direction.
This breath released seconds later as he held his hand out to her; his signature smile turning downright wolfish as he crooked a tempting finger square in her direction.
"Come to me my love," he sang, waiting expectantly as her rebellious feet carried her to the stage. "Come to me now."
Walking as if in a haze, Chloe took his offered hand and mounted the stage before her shaking her head with an abiding smile as she became the star of the show.
Rising up on his knees before her, a seductive Cade kissed her hand as he looked up at her with adoring eyes never missing a beat of his siren's songs as his every movement reflected his words.
“Let me be your every desire,” he crooned, once again falling forward on all fours to crawl and slither around her feet. “Let me show you the way.”
He really showed her the way moments later, as he sprung to his feet in a single smooth flourish and gyrated wild before her; still keeping a respectful distance between them as his hard trim hips gyrated beneath a surface of skin tight leather.
Even as she waved a teasing dismissive hand broad in his direction, her rebellious gaze couldn’t help but admire the pleasing flex of his pecs and abs; both of which gleamed bronze and finely toned in the row of spotlights that lined the stage.
Quickening his sinful gyrations to adhere to the rhythm of the intense guitar solo that now filled the air around them, Cade came to stand stock still before a now frozen Chloe tossing his hair full in her face as he performed a succulent full-bodied gyration—drawing her eyes to the bulging outline that strained the sleek fabric of his black leather pants.
Finally losing her battle with sweet temptation, Chloe reached a trembling hand forward to touch the toned rock hard pecs that filled her dreams; stroking his golden skin only a moment before drawing her hand away from him.
Taking her hand in his, Cade guided her fingers back in the direction of his hard sculpted body; encouraging her to stroke his flawless chest as he tossed his head back and shut his eyes tight—pursing his full moist lips in a show of obvious desire.
He put these lips to even better use moments later, as he leaned forward to sear her lips with a moist, hot kiss.
Although brief, the soft but purposeful touch of his lips on hers set Chloe's body afire making her heart pound in spite of itself as she inhaled his crisp citrus tinged scent and smacked her own lips together in a resolute clench—savoring his taste even as her determined feet carried her away from him.
Stopping for just a moment at the edge of the stage, Chloe struck a dramatic bow before the ladies who openly cheered her antics; then hopping off the edge without as much as a backward glance toward the source of her temptation.
“Great job staying cool and noncommittal, Morgan,” she chided herself, adding as she headed toward the backstage door, “What is that man doing to me?”
These words haunted Chloe an hour later, as the members of Night Serenade finally cleared the stage; barely escaping the clutches of a crowd that demanded yet another encore—this one performed preferably in the nude.
Exchanging hearty high fives with the guys as they stepped off the stage, she praised them all on yet another great show; also surprising them with some news that she herself had learned just before the show.
"This morning, Gents, I had a most productive teleconference with the owner of a chain of clubs in South Florida," she informed them, adding with an expressive gesture, "His name is Malcolm Ford, and he owns five clubs right along the coast—one in Boca Raton, one in Ft. Lauderdale, and three in the heart of Miami. It seems that he has been getting a lot of requests from his club goers—his young female club goers, in particular, imagine that—for our show. And I cut a deal in which you can perform two gigs at each club with each of you earning 1K per gig, in addition to the room and board that you'll enjoy at the finest hotels on the south coast. Sound good?"
She chuckled in spite of herself as the musicians met these words with a collection of gaping wide-eyed gazes that appeared in perfect synch across their flawless faces, expressions that came accompanied by a stunned silence that arose in a quiet chorus in the atmosphere around them.
"Hello?" she said finally, now laughing outright at the appearance of their blatant and obvious shock. "Earth to the cast members of the Village of the Damned Rock Stars. Are you okay?"
At once her beloved rockers burst out in a sonorous round of soft melodic laughter closing around her to embrace her body in loving and affectionate arms.
“Boss, you rock!” Blake praised her, dark eyes brimming with obvious affection as he patted his manager’s back. “You’re always on the lookout for us.”
"Always," Cade agreed immediately, adding as he made a broad gesture in your direction, "Could you please step into my dressing room for just a moment, Chloe? I'd like to discuss these tour dates further with you, along with a few other things."
Chloe nodded.
“Lead the way,” she assented, adding in silence as she followed the singer in the direction of his corner dressing room, “Keep this meeting professional, Chloe Morgan—as much as you might be tempted to do otherwise. Down, Girl!”
This feeling of divine temptation intensified moments later, as she and Cade found themselves positioned together in very close quarters; facing one another at the center of his plain but clean lined dressing room at the back of Club Groove.
An uneasy silence fell between the pair as they stared deep into one another’s eyes; dangerous little space lingering between them as they shared a soft, secret smile.
Finally, Chloe broke the silence, clearing her throat loudly as she folded her arms before her and stood slightly away from the source of her temptation.
“You know Cade, I tried to call you dudes at the cave several times, to let you know about the dates,” she revealed, referencing the code name that Night Serenade used to reference its group home before adding with a chuckle, “but it seems kind of tough for even your manager to get a hold of you during normal business hours.”
The answering sound of Cade’s deep sonorous chuckle sent tingles racing down her spine.
“Well you know us rockers, Chloe,” he said her name like the sweetest poetry, adding in a lower, more mysterious tone, “Creatures of the night, all of us. I can’t tell you, though, how much I appreciate all of the help and guidance that you’ve given us in the year or so that we’ve been together.” He paused here, adding as he took her hands in his and graced her with a beneficent smile, “We have you to thank for our success, no doubt about it.”
Returning his smile, Chloe squeezed his fingers between hers as she shook her head and assured him, “You have the talent and the magnetism to draw in the fans—I just happen to have a particularly loud mouth, which enables me to constantly rave about and promote your efforts.” She paused here, adding with a loud snort, “Contrary to what Mom always told me, I just knew that that blasted loud mouth would come in handy, someday and in some way.”
Cade shook his head.
"Don't put yourself down, Chloe. You're amazing, and you have done amazing things for this group," he assured her, adding in a lower and decidedly sultry tone, "I only wish I could find a
way to thank you properly. Any ideas, darling?"
With these words he took a step closer, flexing as he did every muscle of his hard toned body.
"Anything in particular you'd like me to do for you, Chloe?" he asked her, searing her with a narrow-eyed gaze that dripped with seduction, "Don't be shy, Darlin’. Just name it.”
Even as his seductive words set fire to her hungry insides, Chloe took a deep sustaining breath as she folded her arms before her.
“I dunno, a muffin basket maybe? Or, as is always the case with me, chocolate always works," she proposed finally, going on to add quickly, "Listen, while we're on the subject of your stage performances ("Well actually we aren't," she added in silence, "but methinks I'd better change the subject. And fast."), I just want you to know that I wholeheartedly approve of the shtick that we have going between us—you know, the one in which you pull me up on stage and serenade me? I think it's a good idea—I mean, few people in the audience understand my relationship with you, that I'm just your manager and nothing more. It fuels their fantasies to think that you, the almighty Cade Heath, might just have an interest in an everyday woman—as opposed to say, a supermodel."
Cade shrugged.
"Who says it's a shtick? Who says that I want you to remain my manager and nothing more?" he paused here, pursing his soft full lips as he added in a whisper, "Maybe I'm interested in shifting the nature of our relationship—in fueling your fantasies, not just those of the audience."
Chloe looked at him for a long moment, then nodded.
"OK fair enough," she said finally, adding as she squared her sturdy shoulders to proud effect, "I just can't help but wonder, though, as to why me—and why now? Look, Cade, I am more than proud to be a big and beautiful woman; it's not that I consider myself unworthy of you. I couldn't help but notice, though, that just about all of your previous relationships have been shared with ladies who happen to share a certain job title." She paused here, adding as she scratched her head in a show of mock curiosity, "Now just let me try to remember that particular job title. Do you tend to date librarians? Plumbers? Meat cutters at the Winn-Dixie deli counter? No! They're all certified supermodels who have a seeming aversion to food!"