Dancing With A Dom: A BBW Romance (7 page)

Sveta bent her legs and hurled herself upward into Dane’s hands. He held her but let her do most of the lifting. Beads of sweat poured down her forehead and she let out a high-pitched squeak as she shifted her body left to compensate for the off-center balance.

“She’s stronger than she looks,” Dane said, helping her back down to her feet, then finally put both his feet back on the floor. “Her job is to offset your weakness. Your job is to let her serve you.” He leaned closer so it was just he and the other man speaking quietly, as the rest of the room started dancing again. “We both know you are a strong man. Be strong enough to let her support you and you two have this thing in the bag.”

“I don’t want your pity, man.”

“Who said anything about pity? I’m going to stomp you to the ground and mark you with size twelve rubber soles in two weeks. I just want you at your best when I do it.”

Ronald laughed and thumped him on the back hard. “You remind me of my buddy. He was a good man.”

“Sorry for your loss, and thank you for your service.”

They shook hands. “Thank you for yours. No one treats me like this anymore. It’s always eggshells and careful looks and comments. I’m going to get back to my partner and see what else she has been holding back on.”

“Semper Fi.”

“Wrong service, man.”

Dane laughed, and turned to check on the rest of the ballroom. “I know. I just wanted to get a rise out of you.”

He spent the next fifteen minutes helping couples through lifts and carries, reminded one new woman why she must always wear underwear under her skirt, and headed to the back to get his shoes on. Macy would be here any minute, and he didn’t want to waste time. His heart thudded in anticipation of her full curves filling his hands—and the competition. The rest of the couples were going to know who the couple to beat was in a matter of minutes.

Sitting in the wings, he took a couple of deep breaths and pulled his left shoe on. Firm, hard, yet supple, it squeaked against the floor when he set it down. He had just polished them, and they looked so shiny and black he could see his reflection in them. Some people got off on football and porn. Funny, he got off on the smell of Kiwi polish and the sound of the shoe tapping the floor. This smell and these sounds had always reminded him of beautiful women and the seduction that took place in the dance floor. Some people made love in a bed. For him, it had always been on the floor, and in front of other people. That made him an exhibitionist. He laughed quietly.

There had always been a string of beautiful women gracing his dancing and his bed. In the ballroom dancing world, he had been one of the lucky few straight men, surrounded by hundreds of women. And the titillating arousal that always came from holding one firmly in his arms, dominating her with his strength then yielding to her softness, but only when it gave him pleasure, produced such a feeling of power he’d reveled in it for years.

So many women, so many dances. A few had even stolen his heart. Like Sveta, the Swedish beauty with the sharp tongue and lithe body. God, the woman could dance, and make love. But he hadn’t loved her. And Sveta had wanted more than he could give her. She had wanted someone to take care of her, lead her, a twenty-four hour a day partnership with him responsible for everything. But he didn’t want to choose her clothes, tell her what to eat or when to go to bed. They had parted amicably. Thankfully, or this reunion would have been more than slightly awkward.

But now, he would have given away every dance partner he had ever had. All his dreams of sensual rhythms and heat. All of it for one woman. Macy. Macy was the partner he had always dreamed of, and he was falling for her hard. He was a chaotic mixture of sheer possessive instinct over this woman and an almost overwhelming need to protect her. And, someday soon, he would tell her how he felt. He could fall in love with this woman. He already felt such a deep connection to her, he almost couldn’t breathe when he thought about losing her.

But he had been hurt before. And he wasn’t sure he was as strong as he projected. If she shunned him, he would fall flat on his face. It would wreck him. It was better for them to keep things easy. Maybe she would make the first move. If she ever showed any sign that leaned toward love and forever, he would reciprocate. But there was no way he was putting that out there first.

Yeah, some Dom he turned out to be. And, even worse, he had just pushed Ronald into stepping up. Crap, it was a lot to think about. But, first, he needed to get his mind back on task.

He double knotted his left shoe and listened absently to the audio guys do their mic checks.

After their third mic check, one said, “Sound off,” and he heard shuffling. But the voices kept coming over the loudspeaker.

Dumbasses
. He shook his head and grinned as they continued talking about the weather, the best beer, and who got laid last week.

“Shit, the old man is really going for broke, though, with this one,” said one.

“Yeah. The contestants are a bit different from normal. Me, I’m rooting for the soldier. Even with one good leg, I think he’s gonna kill it,” said another.

“What do you think of the fat one?”

Fuck, fuck, fuck!
He didn’t stop to put on the other shoe. He tore through the back of the wings and up the stairs to the sound booth.

“Well, she’s kinda hot. But not like Sveta. No one’s going to replace Sveta in Dane’s mind. But, then again, he would do anything to save the old man’s station.”

He saw red. He would tear off their fucking heads. He tripped up the last step and continued his enraged charge, high crawling and leaping onto the landing.

“Even hump a fatty?” The harsh commentary continued, echoing through the stairwell.

“Even that.”

“Turn the fucking sound system off!” Dane was shouting before he even got through the door.

“Shit, man, sorry.”

Dane wasn’t listening. He looked out onto the floor to see a dozen pairs of eyes scowling up at him, and a cascade of red hair as Macy rushed from the room.

Fuck
.

***

Light streamed in through the curtains. I groaned and rolled over, pulling the pillow on top of my head. I did not want to be awake yet. I didn’t care what time it was, or how sunny the sun was, or how chirpy the birds sang. If I woke up, I would have to acknowledge yesterday, and, honestly, I wasn’t ready for that.

I was humiliated last night. All those people looking at me, while pretending
not
to look. They watched me contort my expression into a “whatever” look. The fat comments weren’t that bad. I was used to them. I expected them—especially when surrounded by beautiful women half my size. So it wasn’t that. It was the moment when I finally realized the truth. That Dane was just using me. I mean, I shouldn’t have been surprised. I knew how much he loved his uncle, and that the station was failing. But I thought he was genuine. For a little while there, I actually thought he liked me for me. Truly accepted me—all of me. The good, the bad, the other stuff…

And when they said those final words, those final, mortifyingly loud words that carried through a much-too-silent ballroom made for echoing, I lost it. I felt my face crumple, my shoulders sag, my breaths hitch. All those people—the pretty people—were giving me such looks of sympathy, I couldn’t take it. Even the hot chick who used to be Dane’s girlfriend gave me a look of such embarrassingly sour pity, I thought I might throw up right there. I hadn’t wanted to cry in front of them. And I didn’t want them to feel sorry for me. So I ran. As fast as my lead-filled, too-shaky legs would take me. Home. To bed. Where I curled up in a little ball and cried. Because that’s what you do when your feelings get hurt, right? You hide and sleep.

God, how pitiful was I? I didn’t drink anything last night, so it’s not like I was hung over. I think I was
sleep
-over. That moment when you sleep so much, you get more tired, which makes you want to sleep more.

Did I eat anything for dinner?

My stomach rumbled just then. There was my answer. Odd, normally I would have drowned my sorrows in food, ice cream, and chocolate, anything I could get my hands on. But all I had wanted to do was sleep. Forget about it. No, I wasn’t going to go there, not yet. My stomach rumbled again and cramped. I groaned into my pillow.

I could get up, get something to eat, and go back to bed. But what could I eat? Scrambled eggs meant cracking shells, stirring, pouring, and cooking then dishes to clean later. Bacon meant opening a package, placing on a plate, wrapping with paper towel—did I even have paper towels? Water? I blew out a tired breath. Even breathing hurt. Water was out of the question. Turning on the tap, getting a glass, filling it, not dropping the glass, because my hands felt too shaky, and watching it shatter into a million pieces with a loud crash— a million pieces, just like my heart felt now.

Food was out of the question. There was too much work involved. I felt around on the side table and grabbed the phone. I should call Jody. Ugh. Did I want to hear the compassion in her voice? My fingers were tired, too. I would have to push four buttons to get her called. Wait, five. Speaker phone, because I didn’t feel like holding the phone up.

I really was a mess. No wonder Derek left me. I wasn’t worth shit for anyone. And now that I knew exactly where the pity fucks and kindness were coming from—Dane would do anything to save his Uncle’s station? Even screw a fatty? No, it was hump.
Hump a fatty
.

I was just a pathetic, stupid, exceptionally naive woman. Stupid enough to believe someone could actually accept me. And, yep, I was proving them wrong right now, wasn’t I? Jeesh. Well, I wasn’t going to wallow around in bed feeling sorry for myself. I was going to get up and make a list of tasks for the day, including dropping out of the contest—I didn’t want to see that man anymore. I was going to do it. Get up, be strong, tell everyone to screw off. Eat something, but God knew what.

But, first, just a little nap. I wasn’t ready to start my day. My phone said it was 11:43 a.m., and I had missed a whole screen load of texts and calls from Dane.

Of course he would check on me. He was my partner, and he needed me to be in my best shape and ready to dance, right?

Then again, I had never felt as beautiful as I did in his arms. For the first time, I didn’t feel judged. I felt appreciated, and empowered. But how much of this was true emotion, and how much was an illusion for a desperate woman? Could I trust Dane? Would he still want me after the show was over, or was I a means to an end? My heart wanted me to curl up on his big, strong lap and cry over hurt feelings and betrayal and an ache to trust someone again. But my head screamed—flashing red emergency signs.
Danger. Stop.
Do not go any farther!
How do you choose between things like that? I couldn’t. So I planned a course of action I knew I could accomplish.

A little nap. I could dream about being wanted and pretty, and I don’t know…anything but me.

I closed my eyes and held my silent phone against my chest. Sleep. That’s all I was asking for.

Sleep.

Chapter Seven

I had the weirdest dreams. Somewhere between finding a magical genie who not only granted all my wishes—even wishing for more wishes—I had the most amazing sex, ate huge french fries that kept getting larger until they were as big as a house. And every time I got bigger, the genie whose face I never actually saw, always remained bigger than me. By the end of my dream, I was ballroom dancing around houses, while heel-toe stomping on matchbox-sized cars that looked like Dane’s Mustang. I have a weird imagination. I had just laid back against the roof of my old house, waiting for Mr. Sexy Genie to kiss me again. He gently scraped the edges of a folded dollar bill up and down my body. He played with my nipples and sucked them between his teeth while we listened to salsa music blaring from my vagina. Every time I opened my legs…“Pantera Mambo” and “El Preso.” Like I said, crazy dreams. But I was sleeping, so all was good.

My genie whispered into my ear. “It’s time to wake up.”

“No, I don’t want to wake up.”

“You need to wake up.” A little louder this time.

I groaned and swatted at the large shadow looming over me. “Nu uh.” I was being lifted into the air, and I suddenly felt chilled as cool air wafted across my breasts and tummy. The haze lifted. My eyes opened fully, and I knew where I was. Crumbs from a potato chip canister spilled down my body along with the crusts from a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. I thought I had dreamt that part. Great. Now I could add sleep eating to the long list of weird things I did.

“I don’t want to be awake. Put me down, you big asshole.”

Dane only shifted me more securely into his arms and took me into the bathroom, setting me on the cool lid.

“I want to go back to sleep! What are you doing here? Why did you… How did you get in?” I was on full alert now and couldn’t decide how to process everything. Number one, he saw me in my undies with nothing else on, with really funky sleep breath and bed head. Number two, I really had to pee. Number three… “Seriously, how did you get in here? What time is it?”

He turned around and turned the shower on, before giving me what kind of looked like a cross between exasperation and anger. Why was he angry at me? He was the one doing the pity fucking to save the cause.

“Do your business, take a shower, and we’ll talk when you get done.”

Now I was getting pissed off. I squirmed on the lid. But, first, I really did have to pee. Okay, pee first, then ream the big guy out. “Turn around so I can do this.”

His mouth twitched, but he turned his back while I lowered my panties and did my thing.

“Don’t pull them back up,” he commanded when I stood up. “Time to shower.”

“Listen, I don’t know who the hell you think you are, or what in crap you think you are doing here, but this is my place. If I want to sleep for a few hours and not shower and not pee, that’s none of your damn business. And I still don’t know how you got in here.”