Raw (RAW Family #1)(83)
I don’t like myself right now.
Twitch pulls me into him and cradles my head, placing kisses on my eyes and cheeks. He doesn’t say anything. He knows me enough to know I just need him to hold me right now.
My mind wanders.
This is probably a bad time to mention I haven’t taken the pill in two weeks.
Walking into my unit with a huge smile on my face, I think back on my impromptu sharing session this morning.
Having made an appointment with the office psychologist, Emeline, I squared myself for the fact that I was about to be told that I just wasn’t right. I had been thinking that very same thought all night, so it wasn’t exactly unexpected. I couldn’t sleep. It was eating away at me. So when I walked into her office and sat with her, I expected to be interrogated. I soon realized I was wrong.
Really wrong.
Emmy had made us both a cappuccino on her fancy machine, and we both took a seat on the sofa in her office. The meeting I had dreaded somehow turned into a coffee meet between friends.
She asked, “So, I have to say I’m a little surprised to see you here, Lexi. Is everything okay?”
Well, I begged my drug dealer boyfriend to force f*ck me last night. Oh, and I liked it. So, no. Not really.
Wringing my hands together, I looked down at my feet and started, “Well, it’s not really about me. It’s about a friend. I’m worried about her and wanted a professional opinion before I tried to help in a situation that is completely alien to me.”
Lies. All lies.
Nodding, she looked sympathetic when she explained, “Sure. I know it can be hard watching your friends go through things. Humans do not like to feel helpless. It’s a very admirable thing you’re doing.”
Blinking, I swallowed hard and clarified, “She’s a close friend. I know her well, and she’s been through a lot in her life. More recently, she was close to being raped and was saved before her attacker could penetrate her.” Shaking my head, I exhaled, “Sorry. I’m not making much sense here.” Clearing my throat, I tried again, “A few nights ago, she called me devastated. She and her boyfriend had been having sex and things turned a little rough.”
Emmy’s brows furrowed, but she nodded for me to continue my story about my friend. So I did. “And…and…she liked it. Soon the sex turned rougher and rougher, and before she knew it, they were acting out a rape fantasy. And she enjoyed it. Immensely.” Allowing that to sink in a moment, I got to the point, “Now she thinks there’s something wrong with her, and I had no idea what to say to her.”
I looked up at my friend who watched me through worried eyes. I looked back at her with a pleading look. I needed help. Emmy, being the professional she is, leaned back on the sofa and sighed, “Well, you can tell your friend that there’s nothing wrong with her. Nothing at all. In fact, this isn’t unheard of in people who have been sexually assaulted. The thing is, the reaction can go from one extreme to the other. On one hand, you have people who can’t cope, and the thought of another person touching them can make them ill; on the other hand, you have people like your friend, itching to take control of a situation that they originally had no control over.”
What the what what?
Not hiding my confusion, I edged, “So, what you’re saying is…?”
Sipping her coffee, she explained, “Your friend is fine. There’s nothing wrong with role-play in the bedroom. It’s quite healthy as long as its legal and both parties consent; I don’t see an issue here. Your friend was almost raped, you say. Perhaps that sparked something inside of her, something primal and fierce. The thought of being attacked is horrifying. However, your friend’s primal instinct has kicked in and her mind – which is trying to make sense of what happened – has decided to try to turn the memory from something terrifying and frightening, into something…” Lifting her head in thought, she searched for a word. “…let’s say, something pleasurable. Enjoyable. Your friend is stronger than she thinks.” She ended this with a sad smile and I knew, I just knew, that she knew.
She confirmed my thoughts when she uttered, “You know, your friend is welcome to talk to me anytime. Anytime at all.”
Reaching over and squeezing her hand, I whispered, “Thank you. It’ll mean so much to her to hear that.”
And so I left with a new, informed way of thinking, and the day got brighter from there. Which brings us to now. Walking down the hall, I look right to see a tall form standing in the open fridge door. A tall form in black sweat pants and nothing else.
Mmmm. Shirtless Twitch. Yum.
Eyeing his lean, muscular, ink-decorated torso, my eyes drift down where his sweat pants ride low on his hips, and the very tips of the V indented just below his hips stand out. Barely stopping myself from humping his leg, I call out, “Hungry?”
Still looking into the fridge with disappointment, he absently scratches his toned belly and replies, “Yeah, but I’m not having any luck in here. Don’t you ever shop?”
Chuckling, I tell him, “Not really. I’m more a buy as I need it type of girl.”
His face bunches in disappointment. “That blows. I’m hungry now.”
Unable to contain the smile, he spots it and almost smirks before he stops himself. Pointing up at my lips, he says, “Explain this to me? What is this smile about? You were cryin’ last night, and now I see this smile and it makes me wonder why.”