Drunk In Love: The Complete Series: BBW BDSM Erotica by Sasha Livingston Page B

Watchers meetings, where I cried in a circle about how donuts and cookies called my name. I tried every diet known to man and every workout DVD that was supposed to “change my life,” but ultimately, they all failed.
    “Why can’t you be like your sister?” my mother would always prod me.
    My sister was the picture of perfection; thin, beautiful, and popular. She was everything I wasn’t, and my mother hated me for it. I waved her off in my teenage years. Trying to get in touch with myself separated me and my mother.
    My dad never acted like my weight was a problem; he treated me like I was a regular person. I prayed one day I would find a guy like him—someone that accepted me for who I was.
    I learned to deal with the weight and then finally, my dreams were answered. I met Trevor, a man that said he didn’t care about my body, which was true.
    Until he drank.
    I transformed from the love of his life to the bitch that he couldn’t stand. That was the reason I started working out in the first place: I wanted to please Trevor by losing weight. Possibly my getting slimmer would encourage him to stop drinking and cheating on me. I was always wrong. But when you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em.
    “Okay, I’m done. You want to get started?”
    No.... but that’s what I partially came here for.
    “Yeah, sure. Let’s get to it.” I smiled, clapping my hands. I was all too enthusiastic today, more so than my usual routine of dreading and feet dragging.
    “Wow, you’re really on today.” He was close to me, his bare chest in my face, wiping the sweat from his body. I wanted to kiss him, lick his chest, or something else below his waist line.
    I looked up at him and smiled, batting my eyes. At 5’7”, even on my toes I would only reach his shoulders, but I was determined to have my arms around his neck. Laying down, it didn’t matter how tall he was.
    “I’m really proud of you.” He reached his hand up to give me a high five. I obliged, smiling and giving him the I want to fuck you look. But he didn’t speak subliminal eye sex language.
    “Okay, let’s get started. I think we should stretch first.” He put his shirt on; a tight, royal blue fabric that said “Trainer” on the back in stark white letters.
    His bulging muscles were a sign that he was a fitness expert sent from God. His shirt fit as if it were a size too small, but I that was probably the reason he got so many clients, including me.
    He walked over to the trainer’s area and patted a black massage table.
    “Let me stretch you out. I’ve got a new routine we should try today.”
    Stretching was my favorite part of our workouts. Usually we didn’t do this until the end. I wasn’t prepared to touch him this soon. If only I had a glass of wine, I could do this.
    Taking deep breaths, I got up on the table. As I laid down on my back, Brent lifted my leg, pulling it up and holding it straight in the air.
    I wondered if he would use this move when we finally had sex.
    “You feel so tight,” he murmured, a little frown crossing his face.
    Shit... if he kept saying things like that, I was going to cum in my pants.
    He bent down, pushing my leg back so that my knee was in my chest. His lips were so close I could kiss them.
    You should kiss them, the naughty part of me screamed out. Now or never .
    It prodded me to do the unthinkable—to actually do what I came here for. My pussy was pounding as if my heart had dropped between my legs. It was time.
    Leaning up from the table, I went for it, pressing my lips against Brent. Scared and excited, I did it, closing my eyes, not wanting to see his reaction.
    I felt his lips press back, and then... nothing. He pulled away, still with my leg in his hand but far enough away that our lips could no longer touch.
    “What the hell, Samantha? What was that?”
    I couldn’t read his face to see whether he was disgusted or not.
    “Sorry. I read you wrong... I’m just...” The words wouldn’t form together. I