Yes, I loved fucking—the power, the tying up, the animalistic thrusts, but it was all so very…empty.
Sex with Marcus is a whole different beast, all too intense and overwhelming, and just…notempty.
And I have no clue how the fuck to deal with that.
I feel like one day, he’ll touch me too deep, somewhere beyond the physical, and I’ll just collapse like a house of cards. Or maybe explode quietly and unceremoniously like a fucking bubble.
But that’s not for here or now.
Ignore. Pretend everything is fine.
Surely, he won’t notice since I’ve always been a master of living behind the perfect facade.
Surely, this will all be over before he ever gets too close.
That idea restricts my throat as I just stare at him.
Marcus looks so peaceful when he’s asleep…no tossing and turning, no night terrors. Normal, I guess.
He shifts and I pull my hand away as he blinks his eyes open. For a second, he stares at me, and his lips curl into a lazy smile.
My chest kind of shifts, a thud falling somewhere in its depth.
Fuck.
Is a simple smile supposed to make me feel like I’m on the edge of myself?
Marcus stares at the clock on the wall that shows it’s three in the morning, and a frown replaces the smile.
No, bring it back. I prefer the smile.
“Having trouble sleeping?”
His voice is husky with sleep, and that’s not supposed to sound hot. Just saying.
He sits up, the mattress shifting and groaning under his weight as he reaches out to my boxer briefs and kneads my ass. “Is it because of this?”
“Ow!” I swat his hand away. “Get over yourself. It’s not.”
“Thought so.” His voice rumbles. “You’re a slut for pain.”
“Shut it.” I clear my throat. “You should go back to sleep. Don’t worry about me.”
“Nah.” He leans his back against the headboard and ruffles my hair. “I’ll keep you company.”
“You don’t…have to…” I trail off because I’m choking on the words. “I’m used to it. I’ve never really slept well anywhere.”
His brows dip farther. “Not even at Jude’s place?”
“Nowhere,” I whisper, my throat closing again as if fighting the words.
As if the words are about to detonate me with them.
I sit up beside him, our shoulders pressed together as I force a smile, shaking off the discomfort. “Jude buys me all sorts of sleep-aid shit, and it doesn’t really work, but I don’t have the heart to tell him that. He’s just trying his best to help out with my fucked-up sleeping habits, you know.”
“Seems like a busybody.”
“Hey.” I nudge his shoulder with mine. “Don’t call my best friend a busybody or I’ll cut you into pieces so tiny, no one will recognize you.”
