by Fiona Murphy
Tears sting my eyes. I whisper the fear that has been dogging me all afternoon: “What if I’m not ever ready? What if I can’t love you back like you deserve?”
He picks me up and settles me into his lap on the leather chaise lounge. One arm is around me loosely, and the other runs through my hair. “Sweetheart, I know you haven’t had much experience with love, but what you said today to Joy was it at its most basic. That you are willing to go through pain to be better for me because you want me to have what you think I deserve. No one runs into a burning building knowing they’re going to get burned, unless they know they’re coming out with something important.
I was so proud of you for wanting to do it for yourself, and guilty that you felt you had to do it to keep me. It shouldn’t have made me so happy, but it did, that my happiness was a part of the reason why. We’re going to get there, one day at a time, and when you are ready, I’ll ask you. No pressure until you’re ready.”
“Trey, you being so perfect is going to be really hard to deal with all the time.”
“I’m pretty sure I’m not perfect. What are the faults you listed the other day? I snore, I’m boss, which isn’t a real fault, considering how wet I know it makes you. I torture you for too long in bed, again, you love it, so I don’t know why you complain.
I will admit I’m bossy and I snore and I like to have my own way more often than not. There has also been a problem with thinking throwing money at a problem will make it go away. I’ve grown out of it, more or less, and figured out money doesn’t solve all problems. Before you I was a workaholic and content with that, now I loathe work when I know I could be home with you. Hmm, let’s see... I’m always right, and admitting I’m wrong will take a turn of the screws. Pretty much with anyone, but those most important to me, I’m not very patient.”
“Trey, even describing your faults you have a way of making them sound good and you are patient. I thought I was going to fling a salt shaker at the waitress that one night, and you were still all smiles. When that toddler almost took you out when we were walking out of the Art Institute, I was the one who yelled at his mother for not keeping a handle on him like some kind of shrew.”
“Would you like me to cultivate new bad habits, my dear? I’m sure if you give me some time—”
“Don’t even think about it. I’m bad enough for the both of us.”
“I hate when you talk like that about yourself. You are intelligent, funny, more patient than you give yourself credit for, and you have a kindness that, after all you’ve been through, still has me in awe of you. Yes, you are a tough talker and can go into—what was it you called it that night at the symphony? Bitch mode? I have to tell you, it made me so hard to watch you lay into the rude asshole who bumped you. You can take care of yourself, and you do it well. You just don’t have to anymore, and I love taking care of you when you let me.”
“You can’t protect me from all of the bad things out there.”
“Maybe not, but I can try, and when I can’t, I’ll be here for you. Speaking of taking care of you, I’m starving. Are you ready to go out for some food and we can go grocery shopping on the way back?”
I’m hungry, and agree.
***
That night he pulls out the ugliest and most uncomfortable-looking pajama sets for the both of us. He wasn’t joking, he went for flannel. I rub the material. They aren’t quite as uncomfortable as they look, but I sigh at the idea of actually wearing them. I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing. He looks like a little kid told that Santa doesn’t exist. “Maybe I should up it to three sessions a week instead of two.”
He looks up hopefully then shakes his head. “No, she recommended only two sessions a week. I don’t want to push you too hard. It’s already going to be rough. We can do this.”
***
The first night is rough, and I wish I could say it gets easier, but it never does. Over the next few weeks we fill the days to bursting. It’s fun and it’s manic, and we go from lovers to friends to desperately wanting to be lovers again. After each session, Trey holds me and rocks me through the pain and the memories. In those moments after, he follows my lead and allows me the space I need, or a few times the need to cling to him. We often have conversations about why we need to hold to the no-sex mandate by Joy, and once it somehow leads to a very sexually charged conversation that, were it over the phone, would have been called phone sex. Standing there, chests heaving, him hard and me wet, we both run for separate areas of the house.
We also have several power-shopping trips, which show clearly Trey knows his way around the sales floor and what looks good on me. I hate it, not wanting him to spend money on me, but he’s relentless. With all the trips to the symphony, theater, and of course the opera, which I love, the clothes are almost mandatory. A few times we encounter men and women who look me over with empty smiles, and I had felt my confidence sag beneath their glares. Trey feels it, and the fears are forced from me. When we first walked into the store I had wanted to run and then it had become fun to dress up and it made Trey happy and extremely hot. Now my side of the closet is filled with the designers I sold but never dared buy, and I hold my head high during intermission at the opera, at the catty bitches who once looked down on me.
***
After a few weeks, the oddest thing allows us both to let off tension, redecorating. The gallery event was simply another way to stay out late and away from home, but two paintings catch my eye, and Trey notices.
“Those would look good in our bedroom.” Arms come around me from behind. I lean into him.
“Mm.” I’m not letting myself commit, he’s already spent far too much money on me, and I’m still not comfortable with it, but the art is gorgeous. “I don’t know. The color on the walls in the bedroom is too dark for them.”
“I knew you didn’t like it. We’ll change it. I can call some painters in and have it done over the weekend.”
Sighing, I shake my head. “Why do you always have to call someone in? Painting seems relatively easy. If you’re really okay with changing the color, then I’ll do it. I have two days off in a row, starting tomorrow. I should be able to get it done.”
“I don’t like the idea of you working so hard and up and down off ladders. The ceilings are twelve feet. That doesn’t even cover the fumes and chemicals. Also, it sounds easy, but there’s a lot involved.”
“Have you ever painted anything?”
“I’ve had my condo painted, and it took a week and it was a mess. That’s as close as I want to get. I’m buying the paintings and we’ll pick out another color for the walls tomorrow.” He leaves a kiss on my temple before he goes off to look for someone from the gallery.
***
The next day finds us in a paint store that bears no resemblance to the big-box store I thought we were going to. Trey is insistent I make the color choice, admitting the color on the walls is something he hadn’t liked since he moved back. Originally, he picked out the color in his teens and had no idea how it would look. I’m relieved, because the dark chocolate makes the room feel like a cave.
Color picked and an appointment made for painters to come three days later, Trey observes that now other things won’t match. I thought the same thing but was reluctant to say it.
On the street, he stops and tugs me into the shelter of a doorway. “I want you to stop it. I’ve told you, and I mean it this is your home now too, and you have a say in everything, from the paint on the walls to the bed set.”
“What about your parents?”
“What about them?” He seems mystified by the question.
“You said it’s been the family home. What if I change the color in the family room and they hate it and hate me?”
His laughter is loud. “That color in the family room has been redone nine times in the last twenty years. They’ll understand, and if it doesn’t look good, they’ll shrug. Now come on, let’s go pick out bedding and new drapes to match the paint color.�
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***
The last week has been fun, and I gradually felt the words he kept telling me, it was my home too and I wasn’t going anywhere. With each small change he saw, he got happier, and when he saw painters in the family room he cornered me and kissed me until we both were breathless and aching with need.
So maybe after three weeks my tone isn’t quite the softest when Joy tells me that she thinks Trey and I should give it another week.
“Why the hell not? It’s been three weeks already. These sessions have helped, I know they have. I feel the difference.”
“Tell me about the difference,” Joy invites calmly.
“No nightmares, not since the first week. When a man gets close, I don’t freak out. I still get tense, but no anxiety like before. Before there were times when I was still half asleep I would freeze and get scared of waking up with someone beside me, and it was only when I realized it was Trey that I was okay. From that first week, it hasn’t happened once.”
“Tell me how another week makes a difference to you? You were quite open previously about your use of sex toys to satisfy your need. Are they not satisfying enough for you?”
“I haven’t used them since our relationship began, and I don’t want to. I want Trey. Last week I broke down in the shower and was able to climax, but afterwards it felt as empty as I knew it would, I felt empty.”
Sitting back her surprise is obvious, and I can understand. There were times I was surprised. Trey wasn’t though, he let me know late one night as we lay together that he understood my need, and it wouldn’t bother him if I used my toys. I shook my head. At the time I wasn’t able to say the words, and he didn’t question me, but there was no surprise at all.
“All right then, consider the ban lifted. I still think we will need another two EMDR sessions, and I wanted to wait until after that, now I don’t think that’s going to be necessary.” At the mention of more EMDR, I can’t hide my grimace. “You just said these sessions have helped. I know they aren’t fun, but you are getting better.”
Nodding, I don’t argue. “After the EMDR, what then? How long do you think I’ll need to keep seeing you?”
“It will always be up to you on how long you keep seeing me. We’ll do some basic talk therapy for a few more weeks. In the end it will be what you need. There are patients I have been seeing for ten years and longer. They have long gotten over the hardest part, but for them to have someone they can talk to about what is happening in their lives, and understand why they are reacting the way they do, is essential.”
At first the idea of still coming to see Joy ten years from now sounds like torture, yet as her words sink in they make sense.
“Hmm, I don’t know about that. There are times I just want to forget and never have to think about it, then it’ll pop up, or I know I’m pushing Trey away because of the way it mixes me up. Ten years doesn’t sound appealing, but it is understandable. Would you be willing to tell Trey the ban has been lifted? I’m pretty sure he won’t believe me.”
Chuckling, she nods. “I would be happy to do so.”
I open the door, and as usual he’s pacing as he waits for me. When he sees me, his relief is immediate. “Hey, you okay?”
“I’m good, really good. Come talk to Joy real quick.” I’m certain he knows what it’s about the minute I smile.
Joy breaks the news, and the tension in him flows out instantly. He tightens his arm around me, and less than five minutes later we’re out in the car. The silence isn’t what I expect and there is tension beginning to build.
“Trey?”
He doesn’t answer until we’re in the garage behind the house. “Sweetheart, I am trying so hard here. Give me a minute.”
Okay, now I’m really confused. Opening my door, he undoes my seatbelt, and pulls me gently from the car. His arm around me makes me feel the smallest bit better, but I still don’t understand why he’s so tense. When we stop in the family room and he settles me in his lap, I finally get it. After a session, I often needed him to hold me while I cried, and then I usually needed to be left alone.. As much as I needed his arms around me while I pulled back from the memories, while I was licking my wounds I needed space. Even with Joy giving the all-clear, Trey isn’t going to push me beyond my habits of the last few weeks.
Fuck, the clenching in my chest is back, and it hurts when I try to breathe. When it hits me, I feel like I’ve taken a blow to the solar plexus. Closing my eyes, I wait for the fear, it doesn’t come. Now that I know, really know, all I feel is safe and content in his arms. My arms slide around his neck and I pull him down to me. “Trey, you don’t have to try so hard. I don’t need you to hold me while I cry. I need you to make love to me. I love you.” A tremble goes through him when I say it. “I love you and I need you—not to hold me, but to make love to me.”
A hand goes into my hair, and he pulls me back to look him in the eye. His throat works, “Please, can you say that again for me?”
Nodding, I understand and hold his gaze. “I love you. I love you. Now take me to bed and make love to me.”
Smiling, he lifts me up and carries me to our bedroom. After laying me down on the bed, he slowly begins to undress. My hands are at the buttons of my shirt, until he shakes his head, and I’m not surprised. I lie back down and watch him. While he isn’t as massive as he was the first night, his body is still powerfully built and rippling with muscle, and just the sight of him makes me wet. When he pushes down his pants, he pushes down his boxers too. I’m restless now, wanting him, needing him.
Undressing me now, Trey is taking his time, and I move to help him but don’t dare push him to move faster. Coming down and over me, his fingers linger over my collarbone. Lowering his mouth on mine, his kiss is solemn and so very gentle. Tongue tasting, as if he were learning me all over again. Now that I know, feel the same way, I recognize his touch and his kiss for what it has always been. His expression of love in the only way he knows I can accept it. Shockingly, tears sting my eyes at the thought this man, so brilliant, so strong, so utterly beautiful, is willing to give so much without asking for it back.
“No tears, Kate. I can’t bear them.”
“I’m sorry, so sorry, it took so long to get it,” I sputter against his neck.
“Hey, it doesn’t matter. You get it now, and that’s all that matters.” At first his kiss is hungry then slowly becomes deep and drugging, until I’m floating in the feel of his mouth on mine. It takes a moment before I realize he’s licking at the pulse pounding in my neck.
Silky and soft, his skin is barely touching mine, and I press into him. His response is instant. My wrists are pinned above my head. Begging won’t help, I try anyway. My pleas are ignored as his mouth covers a swollen breast. Gentle goes quickly to hungry and then greedy suckling, ending with teeth teasing and tugging. Switching to my other breast, he starts slower and then builds again until I’m begging for his touch. My hips are up and brushing his thick, weeping cock, and the hiss of my name is out of him as he takes my breast back into his mouth and starts all over again.
At last he begins to move down my body, and he finds me wet and swollen for him. “The smell of you has driven me nearly insane the last few weeks, knowing how much you wanted me and I couldn’t have you.”
There is no slow start. He’s hungry and beyond teasing. There were times when I was ashamed at how wet he made me, the slurping sounds of him drinking me into him. Yet now, hearing him moan with satisfaction and delight at how wet I am and his enjoyment of me has me proud of being able to give that to him. Two fingers slide into me, in and out too quick for me to enjoy, and then slowly they slide down to my ass. My breath stops as I press back into them and they slide into the tightest part of me. A sigh of relief becomes a sob as the fingers begin to move in and out of me, and I’m lost in the feeling until his teeth remind me of his love of the taste of me. I’m too sensitive, too needy; the feel of his teeth is pushing me over the edge without him going anywhere near my clit
oris. He feels it, and begins moving his fingers faster as he mouth-locks on to my swollen clit and sucks and flicks until I’m shaking from my orgasm.
With a growl, he moves quickly, pushing his cock hard and fast into me. I’m full. I’m whole, at last. What has been missing is back inside me. He’s over me now; his eyes lock on to mine, and he won’t let me escape them. He’s not nearly as deep as I love him to be, but his thrusts are satisfyingly pounding, and he’s drawing out my orgasm until he slams into me and I’m with him as he comes. For long minutes he’s on his elbows, trying to keep the heaviest part of himself off me. I’m boneless, and after so long, when he begins to pull away my legs come up and around him to hold him in place.
He rolls onto his back, holding me to him, remaining inside me, as I so desperately want and need.
Resting my head on his chest I breathe deeply and savor the scent of his skin. “Can we stay just like this forever and ever?”
“Sounds good to me.”
“Trey?”
“Yes.”
“Why haven’t you done that before?” I rest my chin on my hands as I look down at him.
Smiling, he runs a finger over my wrinkled forehead. “Because I want it to be something you give me. The first night I was too cocky, too sure, and I know I can make you come that way. But after everything you’ve been through, I want you to be the one to ask for it, not take what I want.”
The emotion surges all over again deep inside me. “I love you, and thank you for waiting until I’m ready. I’m ready now. I want you inside me there.”
His cock thickens inside me, and I clench around him. “If it gets to be too much or you want to stop, you tell me and we’ll stop.”
Nodding, I press up and off him. I taste his chest, roaming over skin I have missed for too damn long. When my tongue finds his cock, soaked in our juices, he’s breathing hard as I clean him thoroughly.
“Baby, I need you now.” His voice tight.
