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“Do it then. You shy? You’ve been teasing me for months.” His words left me speechless.
I didn’t know how to respond to him.
“Do it. Come,” he snarled lower, guttural.
He pulled my release from me.
There was no holding it off or trying to stop it. It swallowed me whole in the most intense release I’d ever experienced. Sex was fine, but I’d always had a reserve with others, holding myself back. Scared. But Royal was the closest I’d ever let anyone, and he broke down every wall I had, knowingly or not.
My body shook, and the only thing that kept me upright was his hand on my jaw. His eyes stayed focused on mine as I painted his shirt. He didn’t waver or hesitate. I gasped, pleasure taking over my senses, while I wished he’d touch me or do more. Anything.
We stayed there, locked in the embrace. I’d grabbed his forearm at some point and hadn’t realized. He didn’t move to break apart, and neither did I.
“Please,” I whispered, not sure what I requested.
“I can’t.” The anger was gone, leaving behind sorrow.
The raw realness of his words etched themselves into my heart. He would never be what I needed, and I didn’t think I could forget this. He’d barely touched me.
I’d run from intimacy my whole life, and maybe that was why I kept going back to a woman who hated me.
He felt safe, and that hurt. As good as it felt to do this with him, I knew it couldn’t be. He had been my entire support system until my brother was old enough to bear some of the weight. And still, I kept the worst of it from him.
Royal had never expected me to hide it, and he didn’t treat me differently for knowing.
How could the one who’d protected me for so long be the one I couldn’t have? But maybe that’s how life worked.
It couldn’t be him. He’d never accept it.
“I know.”
He nodded, and a single tear slid down his face as he pried his fingers off my neck. I didn’t have to look to know I’d have bruises. We cleaned up without another word about it, settling into an uneasy peace. Not what we were before, some new and changed thing.
The friendship of the past dead, with no way to revive it.
I mourned for those next few days. Somber and sullen, I moved through our required therapy and anger management, dissociated. I wanted this to be a bad dream I’d eventually wake up from. Not this hell I’d driven our friendship to.
“Do you want to talk about your triggers?”
I looked up at the therapist who was leading the group meeting. “Ergh.”
“Stupid people. For both of us, if you need an official answer,” Royal said in his ‘I’d rather be anywhere else’ tone.
The therapist must not have recognized his voice as he went on talking about how people aren’t stupid, they just see the world differently.
Royal sat back and muttered out of the corner of his mouth. “This guy is about to become one of my triggers.”
“He’s stupid, so it’s fitting.”
Another patient who looked a little like Ed Sheeran laughed in British.
“Is that?” I mouthed.
Royal shrugged. “Wouldn’t surprise me.”
“I’m Dean,” the guy said with a wink.
“Are we using fake names here?” I said more to Royal than to ‘'Dean.’
