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Marcus lands on top of me, his weight somehow heavier than it’s ever felt before. This isn’t like when he rested on top of me after sex, his cock buried inside me and our breaths falling into the same pattern. When I felt like we were one. When I felt somehow whole.
This is terrifying.
Suffocating.
He doesn’t move. And I can’t get up. He’s too heavy, and I’m too small, and the darkness at the edges of my vision is creeping closer and closer, dragging me under.
It feels like an ocean is swallowing me up.
I’m sinking. Deeper, deeper into swirling black water. I don’t know where Carson is. I don’t know where anything is. The only thing I’m still aware of is the solid weight of Marcus against my back, his addictive scent of leather and soap tainted by a coppery tang that makes my stomach revolt.
I feel liquid dripping down my back, pooling around my body.
But it’s not water. It’s not the ocean, not the blackness that’s slowly dragging me under.
It’s Marcus’s blood.
***
