Page 8 of Hold Me for Now

“Do you—do you want to stop?” he asks in a way that lets me know he hopes the answer is no.

I heave a sigh. My voice is raw, stripped down to the truth. “I don’t think I can. I need this to work. Not being able to do it makes me feel broken, and Ihatethat.”

T moves to hover over me, braced on one elbow. “Same,” he whispers, a repeat from earlier, but this time with more emotion. A single tentative finger reaches out to stroke down my arm, leaving behind a fiery trail.

“Kiss her. Take control for now, T.” Dr. D’s voice rings out, and there’s a sense of relief. I agree with him. It’s time to take this to the next level.

“Is that okay?” T asks quietly, barely moving his mouth as if he wants to keep the question between the two of us, not to be shared with Dr. D.

I reach for him, letting my lips part. He kisses me, soft at first but building slowly until we’re a mix of tongues and sighs. A strange longing for him, this man I just met, sweeps through me. T drags his hand down my body, stopping briefly to tease my nipple and then trailing it across my navel. Finally, he’s between my legs.

His breath stutters when he feels how wet I am down there, but his hand doesn’t hesitate. He strokes into me, running the flat of his hand from front to back, and then to the front again where, after a moment of fumbling, he finds my clit. My back arches off the bed as he teases that sensitive bundle of nerves. I’m panting now, my fingers digging into his shoulder. Inhuman whimpers burst out as he moves faster.

“You like that, don’t you?” he murmurs in my ear, his breath tickling and warm. “Right there?”

“Yes.” I bite my lip, letting my hips move to his rhythm. “Yes, that’s it.”

His erection is pressed against my side. I turn to him and grasp it tightly, noting how it grows even more rigid at my touch. We kiss, breathless, our hands busy between us.

“If you’re both okay with it, T, why don’t you move on top of K?” Dr. D suggests. An annoyed growl rises from the back of T’s throat. He was into this, and I don’t think he appreciates Dr. D interrupting our groove.

I open my legs and press my hand to T’s hip, urging him to move closer. He rises above me and shuffles to lie between my spread legs, with his cock at my entrance.

“You’ve both been tested with no evidence of STDs. Ms. K’s birth-control levels are adequate to prevent pregnancy, so we will skip a condom today. Removing that takes away one variable to explain why you both might have difficulty finding release during sex.” Dr. D drones on, but neither T nor I are listening because he’s kissing me again and I’m guiding him into my entrance.

He pushes in, just the tip, and we both cry out. Even though I’m wet, I’ve always been tight and he’s big, so it takes a few minutes of T pressing in, waiting for me to stretch, and then repeating the process. I murmur encouragingly the entire time, telling him that I’m okay, that I want him inside of me, that he feels so damn good. I always say these things to the men I sleep with, and most of the time they’re lies, but this time I’m being honest. Because I do want him in me, and it does feelsofucking good.

Finally, after several painstaking minutes, he’s all the way in, nice and deep. I’m full of him. I take a second to marvel at how well he fits. T lifts his lips from mine and kisses down my neck as he starts to move. I tilt my chin to give him better access as my pelvis lifts up to match the motion of his hips. T’s moving faster now. He pulls almost all the way out and then slams back in, his breath sputtering against my neck, bursts of warm air mingled with groans and sighs.

There’s a tightening in my core, a warmth deep inside that I know from masturbating means an orgasm is building.

This is it!I think.I’m going to come!

T’s movements grow choppy and uncoordinated. His eyes squeeze shut, and the muscles of his neck strain.

We’re going to come together!

Joy surges through me. I can’t believe it’s this easy. That knot winds tighter in me, my hands claw his back, and then…nothing. The feeling doesn’t disappear in a puff of smoke—it fades, growing slowly fainter and fainter until I can’t sense it at all. I hold out hope that even if it doesn’t happen for me, at least T will find release, but the same thing happens to him. His movements slow, become more erratic, like he’s trying to discover just the right angle or the right pace to get us off.

Finally, he collapses on me, sweaty and out of breath. “I’m sorry,” he mumbles into my collarbone. “I couldn’t do it.” There’s despair in those words, with a healthy dose of shame and self-loathing.

I run my hands over his back, tracing soothing patterns into his skin. “It’s okay. I couldn’t either.” Shadows that haunt the corners of my mind creep forward to tell me that I’m a failure. That it’s because I’m not pretty enough, thin enough, good enough. That’s why I can’t do this simple task, something everyone else can accomplish with little effort.

Chapter seven

Don’tbediscouraged,”Dr.D says, in what is probably a normal voice, but to my depressed ears sounds overly enthusiastic. “Most couples require several times before they achieve success.”

T groans into my chest, not the seductive noises he made earlier, but a sound of annoyance, of defeat.

Unfazed, Dr. D. continues, “In the personality tests you completed, both of you measure strongly as people pleasers, willing to sacrifice yourself for others. This is a common trait we see in patients with your particular challenge. I suspect you both have trouble communicating your desires to your partners and, thus, are often left unsatisfied.”

Those words strikewaytoo close to home for me. Judging by the exaggerated flinch T just gave, he feels the same.

“I’d like to bolster your interpersonal communication skills in this area by performing an exercise. Would the two of you be open to that?”

Silent nods from T and myself.

“Wonderful!” says Dr. D. “Please, both of you lie on the bed and face each other.”

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