“We can work through the bigger issues during our next sessions, but for the rest of today, I’m going to give you ways to enjoy your partner now through methods you’re already using.”
“Methods?”
He leans back in his seat. “How do you feel about bondage?” He must see the look of horror on my face, because he clarifies, “Tying your partner up, not the other way around.”
It occurs to me that sex therapist Ed Shearon might be a genius.
16
Brody
My body’s almost as exhausted as my mind. I can’t remember the last time I was this sexually frustrated. I can go months without the touch of another man, but spending every night with Anders, whether it’s in the gym or on the couch we’ve hooked up on twice, is driving me crazy. Not figuratively either. I found my car keys in the freezer this morning. I was lucky it didn’t fuck up the electronics in the key fob, and I still can’t understand why I put them in the freezer.
The more I’m around him, the more I want to touch him.
I try to find excuses to give him affection here and there, even the smallest of touches, like squeezing by him in the kitchen to reach for some water I don’t need. Or handing him something and lingering when our fingers brush.
They’re tiny gestures, but it’s getting to the point where my dick gets hard before I even step into our apartment.
He’s got me wound tight, and my hand is no replacement for the real thing. It barely scratches the surface of my growing need. I can come while whispering Anders’ name, but it feels nothing like coming while pressed against him.
Arriving home from yet another gruelling day, I’m thankful to be going to trial soon. Although with any luck, the client will go for a plea deal. I don’t know if I can sit through a trial and listen to every aspect of this rape again.
Burning out on my first official case won’t win me any brownie points with the partners or my father, so I’ve been trying to suck it up.
It’s like the doubt in my head has taken on my dad’s voice, telling me I’m not cut out for this type of law. Before, that voice urged me to do better. Now, knowing what Anders went through, all I can see is what I’m doing to the victim of my client. What she’s going to go through for the rest of her life.
Will she ever trust a man not to hurt her? Will she not be able to have sex with someone because it will make her feel out of control?
I push through the door to our apartment to find Anders where he’s been every night these past two weeks—cooking me dinner. He’s moved his usual dinner back to fit my schedule so we can eat together. I want to hate him for it because it makes my need for him deeper, but honestly, it’s the only part of my day that I’m enjoying lately.
I just wish I could have more.
Call me greedy, I don’t care. Restraining myself around him sucks, and it’s harder than my cock. Which is painful at this point.
Anders turns to me with a smile. It’s fucking blinding. I’ve never seen the man so … happy.
I want to crack a joke about what meds he’s on, but I guess that would be in poor taste. I assume he’s on meds for his long list of diagnoses. “What are you so smiley about?”
Instead of answering me, he saunters … yeah, saunters over to me. That’s also something I’ve never seen him do.
“What are you—”
I’m cut off by his mouth on mine, his hands cupping my face, and his tongue demanding mine come out to play. We stumble back because I’m so not prepared for it, but it’s easy to regain balance when I lean forward so there’s no space between us.
That little voice in my head telling me I shouldn’t be doing this is drowned out by the blood rushing south to my already hard cock.
I let myself enjoy it a lot longer than a good man would. Not that I’m a bad man, I know that, but I definitely could stand to be less selfish right now.
It’s Anders who finally breaks the kiss.
“What was that?” I rasp.
We’ve still got our arms around each other, hard body against hard body.
“I, uh … so …” His skin pinkens at his cheekbones, the rest of his cheeks hidden by his beard.
“Spit it out,” I mock.
“Bet you say that to all the boys.”
“Never,” I say coyly. “Seems like you’ve had a better day than me.”
“Uh, yeah. I have something … to, uh, discuss with you?” It comes out like a question, and I don’t know whether to be scared or excited. “Over dinner?”