Page 47 of Not Strictly Ballroom

I slowly lick up his hard cock, feeling the texture of the lace on my tongue, pushing the tip through the holes to the skin beneath.

“Yes, D,” he moans softly, and I add a bit more pressure. I place my mouth round his cockhead, drawing as much as I can into my mouth, moving the lace with my tongue and feeling him jerk at the friction. I need to taste him properly. Taking hold of the top of the shorts with my teeth, I pull them down, releasing his cock with a bounce. I swirl my tongue through his precum before stretching my lips round the end and sucking him in. I slide my mouth slowly up and down, tonguing round the head and playing it along the vein running up the underside. He makes the most delightful groan, but I want to tease him a bit longer, so I withdraw until I just have my lips round the tip, adding more pressure to his cockhead. I hum in pleasure as Nick lifts his hips, trying to chase my mouth, and I tongue his slit. I can’t resist a smile of satisfaction, hearing him whispering please, please, please under his breath, but I leave him a second longer before plunging down, taking all of him in one go. My own cock is aching painfully, but I don’t want to get distracted from what I’m doing, so I try to ignore the desperation to touch it.

“Fuucck, D.” His hips crash into the bed and I allow him to hit the back of my throat, forcing myself to relax and breathe round the gag reflex. I hollow my cheeks and suck him in and out, watching his thighs tremble and his hands fist the sheets until he shudders and jerks, his release filling my mouth. I slowly let his deflating cock slide out of my mouth, and swallow it all. I sit back and see his cheeks are flushed a pretty shade of pink, accentuating his blue eyes as he smiles at me.

He beckons me forward and I move up the bed. When I reach his chest, he clasps my ass and pulls me forward until I’m kneeling over his face.

“My turn.” He grins before he engulfs the whole of my cock in his mouth. The relief of having pressure on it is indescribable. I rest my arms on the wall, but I cannot keep my hips from moving and they thrust in time with his mouth as he makes slurping noises round me.

I know I’m not going to last long and I make the mistake of looking down at him, seeing his eyes locked onto mine, his glistening lips holding all of me.

“Oh fucking hell, babe,” I exclaim, as he flicks his magic tongue up and down while still taking every one of my thrusts. He moves one of his hands so his fingers play up and down my crease, causing my spine to tingle and my balls to tighten, and I thrust harder. He grazes across my hole, just once, and that’s all it takes to push me over the edge, my orgasm washing through me. Nick takes every single drop and releases me from his grip, but it’s a few minutes before I feel able to push off from the wall and lie down on the bed, curling into his waiting arms.

I look round at the packed city hall. The seating has been cleared from the central stalls area to make room for the dance floor, with the judges and an orchestra on the stage. There is further seating on the upper floors. The domed ceiling, with its stunning art deco laylight, adds elegance to the event.

“I still don’t see why tha’s not dancing.” I wince slightly as Barry’s voice cuts across the hubbub, and don’t need to see my parents’ expressions to know they’ve done the same. I’ve explained everything to my parents and they understand, but my dad gave Barry and Alan a very abridged version of why I was sitting with them, and not out there with Darcy on the dance floor.

Claire had arranged for good seats for all of us, saying it was not a problem when I explained that Alan and Barry wanted to bring their wives. Now I’m not sure it was such a good idea.

“I’m sure you’re just as good. We wanna see thee dance, lad.” His wife, Maggie, shushes him, murmuring something in his ear. He sits back in his seat and she smiles at me when I shoot her a grateful look. I appreciate his indignation on my behalf, but it doesn’t help. Nothing helps, except knowing that this is the best way to support Darcy—and I would go to the ends of the earth for him. So I squash down my own disappointment that it isn’t me out there, and think about how there will always be a next time. I want to be with him now, telling him how well he’s going to do, calming his nerves. But he has his family and Krystal, and I’d just be in the way. And so I give him some space and sit with my family instead, in some of the best seats in the hall where we can see everything perfectly.

Maggie and Brenda are talking about who were their favourites on the TV show that pairs celebrities with dancers. I don’t get the chance to watch it much, and don’t really care for which soap star is dancing, but the show has done a lot for the popularity of ballroom dancing in recent years.

My phone buzzes with a text, and I pull it out, smiling when I see it’s a text from Darcy. Not able to see him this morning, I’ve been texting my support along with very suggestive messages about what I’m going to do to him later.

I open it and am greeted with a picture of his ass—a reply to my last text. It takes me far too long to realise that I’m sitting so close to my mum that she could just look over and . . .

“What’s that love?” she asks. I hit the power button, almost dropping my phone in the process.

“Just a text from Darcy,” I squeak, feeling my face burn. I fumble for my phone so I don’t have to meet her eyes.

“What’d he say?” she asks, which makes me think she didn’t actually see the screen. I allow a small breath to escape. He didn’t say anything.

“He says, thank you all for coming and he’s looking forward to seeing you all later.” I try to make it sound convincing.

“He’s such a sweet boy,” she says, and turns back to say something to my dad. I suppress a snigger. He was sweet . . . until I got my hands on him, and my mouth. Oh yes, he’s sweet alright. I lift my phone closer to my face so no one can see my screen and take another peek at the picture. I can’t wait to get my hands on those ass cheeks later; more than my hands if we can get a minute alone. I send a cheeky reply.

Nick: My mum says very nice ass, but she prefers dick pics. :) Lick you later

I laugh at the reply from Nick and throw my phone into my bag. It was too tempting not to send him a picture while I was getting changed, knowing he would enjoy it. I’ve been grateful for his texts all morning, keeping me distracted with his banter and flirting, along with his support. But now I’m ready, and since they’ll be starting soon, calling us for the first dance, I need to find Krystal.

I’m still looking for her when I see Claire backstage, coming from the production room where she’s been coordinating with the camera crew.

“I can’t find Krystal anywhere,” I say, and she frowns.

“Have you tried in the warmup area?” she asks, pointing towards the memorial hall which is behind the main hall and has been set up for practice and warmup.

I shake my head as I haven’t yet.

“Well, I’m sure she’ll be there, but I’ll keep my eye out for her. I just need to head to the press room to make sure they’re all fine before I round up the judges.”

I go in the direction she points. I need to warm myself up, or rather calm down a little, as the nerves are fizzing under my skin. This is my first shot at the Nationals and it has so much riding on it, I don’t want to buckle under the pressure.

I can’t find Krystal in the warmup area, but I know she’s here as I saw her earlier, along with her husband Andrew, his arm still in plaster. He’s not a bad guy, and he gave me a rueful little smile and thanked me, as if I was doing him a favour.

I warm up a little, practising some basic moves, the familiar steps and patterns serving to bring my body and brain back into some sort of harmony with each other.

Claire appears at my elbow. “I think you should see this,” she says cryptically, and starts walking away. I almost lose my footing as I scramble to catch up with her. She leads me along a corridor to a breakout room, and opens the door for me to enter before following me in.

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