She shook her head. “I like when you touch me.”
“You enjoyed me touching your nipples last night? I didn’t scare you?”
“N-no,” she said. “I wasn’t scared.”
“Tell me right away if I do scare you. What if I was to touch you further down?”
Then he moved his hand under the waistband of her pajama bottoms. She heaved in a breath and he stilled.
“Green, yellow, or red?” he asked.
“W-what?”
“Red for I want you to stop. Yellow for slow down. Green for go.”
She swallowed heavily. “Green but bleeding into yellow.”
“Got it.” He simply kept his hand where it was. Letting her feel the heaviness of it. The warmth.
“Are you sure I’m not too much?” she asked.
He withdrew his hand. Shit. Why did she say anything?
Then he turned her to face him. “You are never too much. Anyone that has ever made you feel that way is wrong. So you have some issues with sex and trust? Who the fuck can blame you after everything you went through? I’m impressed you’re doing as well as you are. What he did to you . . . even if you did orgasm, it wasn’t sex. It wasn’t pleasure. It wasn’t mutual satisfaction. Or consensual. He forced that orgasm on you. That is wrong. Understand?”
“I know. My therapist talked me all through that.”
“And it is very different from what we want to do with you. And now, I’m going to kiss you.”
He kissed her gently. Softly. Then he deepened it until her legs were trembling and weak and he had to hold her up.
A small whimper escaped her and he smiled down at her.
“You want more, don’t you?”
“Yes,” she said, expecting him to immediately touch her again. Instead, he drew back.
“Good. But we’re going slow. We’re not rushing. Intimacy and care.”
“I think it might kill me to go slow,” she groaned. “Maybe I am ready.”
He shook his head. “You’re so fucking brave, but we’re not doing anything until we’re entirely certain that you’re ready and not just saying it to please us.”
Was that what she was doing?
Maybe partially. But also she really wanted to have an orgasm. To experience one that wasn’t attached to pain and humiliation and fear.
Little slut likes it, don’t you?
Her breathing came in sharp pants.
“Angie? Are you all right? What is it? Fuck, this is too much isn’t it?” He lifted her onto the counter and moved between her legs.
“It’s not. Sorry. I just . . . sometimes the memories come back to me.”
“We use grounding techniques when that happens. So take a deep breath in. One. Two. Three. Four. Hold. One. Two. Three. Four. Now out. That’s it. Good girl.” He held her hands as he spoke and her heart rate slowed, her breathing growing steadier. “That’s it. Better?”
She nodded. “Yes. Thank you. I just want to be normal.”
