Dancing With A Dom: A BBW Romance by Katherine Deane Read Free Book Online

and the kinky stuff and foreplay weren’t the issue.
    It was the lack of control. My control . Did I really dance for those men? I lost all control. I showed them the most horrible parts of my body. The fat, grotesque parts even my ex-husband hadn’t liked. I burlesqued my way into a lap dance on my partner. And don’t even get me started on that dollar bill. Holy shit! Did I even bother to think about where the money had been before I shoved it into my panties? No.
    I shuddered and slathered up for another extra special washing of my intimate parts. My poor lady bits might have ink on them. Good old George Washington probably had a huge grin on his face—not that I had inspected the bill after wiping my juices all over it.
    Germs. So many germs.
    I know what my stomach and ass must have looked like when I moved. I bounced up and down, and watched my soapy flesh jiggle—unending wiggling. Ugh . Maybe one more scrub/rinse cycle. I turned the water hotter.
    Why had I acted like that yesterday? Why the sudden loss of control? Where did the horny porn star thing come from? This was my retribution for not staying in control of myself. Those poor men must have had to rinse their eyes with bleach after they left. Thankfully, they hadn’t laughed. Oh God, I wondered if they laughed. This sucked.
    Turning off the water—thankfully, I had finished my final rinse before it ran cold—I stepped out onto the freezing tile floor, and wrapped my favorite orange towel around my wrinkled, overweight body.
    Buyer’s remorse. That’s what I had.
    After throwing on my jeans and pulling my hair into a ponytail, I started on my list.
    Okay, first things first. Coffee. Then make a list for what to do today, including groceries, a french fry run, and which lists to make next week.
    Peppermint-mocha creamer made things seem a little better. I sat down on my old leather couch and pulled my knees up to my chest. The couch was the only thing I wouldn’t give up during the settlement. This was my mom’s old couch. I didn’t want the house, or the pictures, or any of the other furniture. But this couch. It smelled like my mom. Lavender, cinnamon, with little tiny pieces of yarn. No matter how many times I vacuumed, I still found more pieces from her old knitting days. This was my couch.
    I snuggled up with my second cup of coffee and finished my list. Okay. Now I needed to clean up the kitchen. It wouldn’t take too long. This tiny apartment didn’t have much in the way of kitchen and living space. It made it easy to keep clean.
    After tidying up the kitchen and living room and bathroom, I realized I had been waltzing while vacuuming. Jeesh. I couldn’t get the music out of my head. The beats moved faster, and I started swaying. My hips liked this kind of movement. They liked to sway. So did my ass. I was about to Mary Poppins my way into a provocative salsa with the hose of my Kirby when I realized what I was doing.
    Damn it! Scolding myself to stay in control of my freakishly horny body, I goose-stepped my way through the dusting. Mmm, but a feather duster did have the whole French maid kind of appeal to it. I could see myself coyly grinning while reaching for the top shelf. I would wear nothing except my apron.
    Oops, got a little dust on my tits. Maybe I should wipe them off. Or my handsome partner could. I stroked my nipples. I moaned.
    Stop right there! This was insane. I had become a lunatic who got off with a feather duster and kinky thoughts of well-chiseled dancing Doms. What happened to my self-control? Tomorrow, I was going to see my doctor. My hormones were probably fluctuating. Maybe some medication would help.
    I snuggled up onto my couch and checked off my list. Thirty more items to do before I could cross a black Sharpie mark through Saturday.
    The buzzer rang for my door. Looking at the small monitor, I saw the dark, tousled hair, strong lines, chiseled jaw, dangerous eyes. It was him . My dancing Dom. “I thought we were