Total pages in book: 63
Estimated words: 58346 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 292(@200wpm)___ 233(@250wpm)___ 194(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 58346 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 292(@200wpm)___ 233(@250wpm)___ 194(@300wpm)
“Even when it’s rough, even when I’m being punished, he doesn’t fuck me. There’s too much… too many feelings in it. Too many emotions. When I think about people fucking, it’s purely physical, no heart or mind entering the scenario. And we don’t do that. We’ve never done that.”
Doc nods. “So for him to want to watch you quote-unquote fuck another man, what is the first thing that enters your mind that is repelling you from the idea?”
“It would be pointless,” I say automatically, letting whatever immediately popped into my mind out without filtering it.
“Can you expand on that?” he asks.
I shrug. “I have no sexual attraction to any other man. Even when we’re at the club, watching scenes or just the other members walking around, I have no desire to interact with them in any way. I’m perfectly content to enjoy the show and that be it. The only man who has ever been able to make me orgasm is Roman. It’s not even a challenge for him, when before, no matter what I did, I never could reach completion. With him, it’s effortless for me as well. I don’t have to be in the perfect mindset, during the right time of the day in order to be in the mood. I don’t have to be sure my breath is minty fresh, my hair just so, my body silky-smooth without a stray hair in sight. He wants me no matter what state of disarray he finds me in.”
I can’t help the smile that tugs at my lips at that last part, and it doesn’t go unnoticed by the observant therapist. “That’s the first smile I’ve seen on you in these past two sessions. What caused it?” His voice is encouraging, showing his genuine interest in what happy thought crossed my mind.
I take a deep breath, not realizing I slip my hand into Roman’s until I feel his fingers tighten between mine. Then I try to speak as candidly as I can muster without embarrassment while reminding myself the man I’m talking to is a doctor, a world-renowned professional, and has most certainly heard way worse than anything that could come out of my mouth.
“It still astonishes me how completely unfazed Rome is if he orders me onto the bed, head down, ass up, and discovers it’s been a few days since I had time to shave,” I say, hearing my husband’s intake of air before he lets out a soft chuckle. I’ve always been a sucker for his laughter, since it’s hard to come by for most people, yet he’s had a soft spot for me all these years. So I add another thought aloud, and another, and then another.
“He doesn’t pull away if he comes home wanting me immediately and finds I’m drenched in sweat from working out, or if I smell like disinfectants from cleaning the house. He doesn’t wait for me to brush my teeth in the morning before he devours me, doesn’t avoid giving me passionate kisses, even with morning breath.”
His hand squeezes mine when he murmurs, “Nothing could keep me off you, baby. Only you.”
I don’t allow myself to melt at his words like I would’ve a year ago. And that’s what I hate most about the whole situation. I have protective walls up I never had to form with Roman before New Year’s happened. And having them around my heart with him on the outside is every bit as painful—like those walls are more an iron maiden, with sharpened spikes facing inward—as finding those messages in my husband’s phone.
But wanting to make some sort of progress with this session, I don’t shut down. Instead, I explain to Doc, “It was me who had to become comfortable with those things. I was the one who had to get used to someone touching me while I was sweaty or dirty. I was the one who had to recondition myself, to basically relearn that body hair is, in fact, natural and is okay to be in places other than on my head. I was the one who had to learn how to get out of my head and get so lost in our kisses that the scent of our breaths was the last thing on my mind.”
Doc nods, making some notes before meeting my eyes. “A few minutes ago, you mentioned acting out this fantasy with Roman would be ‘pointless.’ And what I’ve gathered from your response is that you feel it would be pointless because you would not be able to enjoy the physical act yourself. You wouldn’t be able to orgasm with another man. Is that what you meant?”
I shrug. “Basically. There’s more to it than that, but the simplified version, yes.”
“Well, I have a few things I’d like to educate you on pertaining to everything you’ve just told me. Would that be all right? If you’re not ready to move forward, if you need time to process everything Roman confessed and his apology, we can hold off until our next session. But I do have time to continue now, if you’re ready. No pressure whatsoever. Take all the time you need,” he assures, but it forces me to do a self-assessment in order to answer him honestly.