“Nothing to apologize for. It’s a trauma response,” he says, kissing me. “You are going to get triggered by things. It may not make sense, and you may not even know that you’re triggered by something, but it will happen. You won’t know how you respond until you are responding. It’s beyond your control, but I will help to the best of my ability.”
“You shouldn’t have to,” I sniff.
“Maybe. Maybe not. What I do know is that I want to,” he says. “If I want you, then it is important that I understand how to help you out of that darkness. I am more than happy to bring you back to the light over and over again. Eventually, you will learn how to pull yourself back. Someday, the darkness will have a well-defined path for you to navigate. We may not be able to see that path yet, but I will be your guide.”
“Why are you so damn poetic?” I ask, and he laughs. “I know I’m making things more difficult than maybe they should be, but I’m trying to put my faith in you. I didn’t realize it would be this hard to trust someone that I already trust.”
“That’s trauma, Magnolia. It just distorts everything around you,” he says.
“How do you know so much about this?” I ask.
“I was in a pretty horrific relationship after you left,” he says. “I was sad and lonely, so I let someone into my life who did not belong there. She was mentally, verbally, and sometimes even sexually abusive. I never got help because I didn’t see the signs. Men are trained to believe they cannot be a victim of domestic abuse, so I refuse to think that it was her fault.”
“What happened to her?” I ask.
“I finally got my head out of my ass,” he says. “I thought she had been cheating, but I didn’t know. I left the shop early one day and came home to her getting railed by her ex-boyfriend in our bed. I finally felt like I had a reason to leave her, so I told her to pack her shit and get out. She did so with little resistance.I sold the house a few weeks later and bought this one. That was three years ago.”
“You haven’t been in a relationship since?”
“Nope. I learned not to settle for anything but the best,” he says. “I realize that no one would ever match you, so I wasn’t interested in a relationship with anyone.”
“But you had sex.”
“I did. I tried not to make a habit of one-night stands, but sometimes I got lonely.”
“Anyone I know?”
“I had sex with Jessie Young while we were both shitfaced drunk,” he laughs.
“At least she’s pretty,” I shrug.
“Not as pretty as you,” he says with a sweet smile before kissing me.
“So, you think she’s pretty?” I ask with a matching smile.
“Oh, jealousy sure does look good on you,” he grins, and I laugh. “Yes, I do think she’s pretty. I also know that you are not the type to be jealous. If you do feel like being jealous, I can certainly remind you just how much I want you.”
“Oh?” I say. “I’d love a reminder!”
“Oh yeah?” he asks with a grin as he backs me up to the couch.
“Mhmm. Think you can last long enough to remind me?” I ask.
“Oh, there’s my bratty Maggie,” he says as he turns and bends me over the arm of the couch. I giggle when he playfully smacks my ass.
I think what I love most about him is that he can melt away my worries with little effort. He has always been like that. Anxiety is not a new thing for me. I’ve always struggled with it, and he has always had a way of calming me down. I think now it’s knowing just how good he can make me feel that helps level me out in these moments. It’s hard to think about my trauma when I’mthinking about how sore my cervix is going to be after he fucks me.
Beau pulls my shorts and panties down to my ankles before pushing his fingers inside of me. “Is this what you wanted, love?”
“No,” I whine and wiggle my ass, needing so much more.
“Then tell me what you want, my sweet Magnolia,” he encourages. I can’t get the words out, which is probably why he wants me to say it. He wants me to not only voice my desires, but to learn to speak up for myself. “Come on, pretty girl. Tell me what you want.”
“I can’t,” I complain. “Please, Beau.”
“Please, what?” he asks as he slowly fucks me with his hand. I groan and push my hips back, but he promptly puts his hands between my shoulder blades to pin me to the couch. “Sit still, my love. Tell me what you want.”
“You,” I whimper.
