Page 225 of Unexpected Heroine

“No. It’s not that.”

“Sorry for the assumption. The way you said it made me wonder if you were concerned you violated his consent. If it is, we can work on that. If not, that’s fine too. I only want to ensure I’m hearing you correctly.”

Rather than rushing to answer, I pause to consider her words. “I suppose it’s possible I manipulated him unintentionally, but he’s never the type to do something he doesn’t want to do. Consent is huge for him, and it goes both ways with us. It was more of a case of him thinking he knew what I needed better than I did. Once he saw I was ready and could handle it—needed it, in fact—he was fully on board.”

“Good. Sorry to interrupt. Please continue.”

“Speaking of needing it, is that normal? Being that horny? I mean, if I was near him, I wanted him. And I was always near him because I was scared to be alone. As you might expect, he was very comforting and so he pulled me onto his lap a lot.” I pause to bite my knuckle. “When he did, I had to have him. I was burning up.”

My core tightens at the memories. “Simone, even when I wasn’t right on top of him, I was thinking about sex. Craving it. I’ve never felt such a compulsion for physical relief. Ever.” Pausing only long enough for a short breath, I ask, “That’s weird, right? Shouldn’t it be the other way around?”

“Not necessarily. What you’re describing sounds like hypersexuality. It’s one of the possible responses to trauma like you’ve experienced. It’s perfectly normal. There’s no need to feel shame or be overly concerned about having periods of heightened arousal. We only need to focus on how you handle them. The urges themselves and satisfying them safely are fine.”

A swell of air leaves my lungs in a rush, making my chest cave. “Oh, ain’t that the berries; let’s thank Mary.” My neck sags, and my spine softens. “Why does it happen?”

“Believe it or not, it can be a healthy way to begin the healing process. In your case, I’d bet it has to do with regaining control. Think of it as a way for you to reclaim your sexual expression. Power over your own body.”

I don’t speak right away, which is a miracle for me given my perpetually lose jaw and faulty filter. Her words resonate, and I want to soak them in.

“Sexual assault is all about control. For the perpetrator, exerting power over another is what drives them to do these horrible things. For the victim, it’s the loss of power that makes it so traumatic. In your case, the lack of control is especially triggering since you spent most of your life feeling powerless regarding sex. Your normal biological urges and desires—things you couldn’t control—were a source of shame for you from an early age. It took a long time before you even felt you had the right to do something about those desires.” With a pitying shake of her head, she adds, “That’s not a woman in control of her body. Right?”

I nod, following along.

“Thankfully, you moved beyond your purity trauma, which is to be commended. From what you told me, it sounds like you struck gold with a compassionate and loving partner. Unless you’re sugarcoating it, he was good for helping you uncover your sexual identity.”

My heart sinks.

He was. So much so.

Until he went and mucked it up.

“So you knew something beautiful, only for it to be taken away unfairly. All your control was gone. Again. The fact that you were at such a high with Tomer made the fall even more pronounced. Understandably, your body and subconscious are driving you to restore your sexual power. Get back a sense of a healthy sexual life. And replace the bad memories with better ones. Does that make sense to you?”

“Yes. It does. Explains a lot.”

“Good. Now, how did you tolerate it? The sex with him?”

Nibbling at the corner of my lip, I slope my head to the side and point both index fingers skyward. “I should clarify something. We didn’t have full-on sex. He took care of me.” Raising my brows, I lean forward, hoping to heavens she doesn’t make me explain.

My poor little cheeks can’t get any redder or hotter.

“Okay. Why not? Did you stop him, or did he stop? Or did you simply not want it?”

“That question is the perfect segue to why I brought this topic up.”

Why is it so embarrassing to talk about this? I worked in a sex club, for Dolly Parton’s sake. Yet if I could rip open my chest to have a looksee, I’d bet my insides would have bruises all over for how violently my heart is pounding.

“Take your time.”

Following her advice, like the gold star therapy patient I endeavor to be, I close my eyes and breathe deeply for the count of five before continuing. “I might be afraid of penetration. The times we fooled around before I left him, I focused on doing other stuff to avoid it becoming a thing. I don’t think he knew I was avoiding it. In fact, I didn’t even know I was doing it until two nights ago.”

“What happened two nights ago?”

Clever girl.

Eyes downcast, I admit, “I used a vibrator. The kind that goes inside. And I couldn’t finish that way.”

Even with Tomer watching me, which made it so much freaking hotter. Speaking of which, I know he was spying based on the texts he sent later that night. I was able to disguise my inability to climax by switching the vibrator to rubbing against my clit only. It took a while... much longer than normal. Ultimately, I was able to eventually finish. More than likely, he didn’t notice.

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