I just need to google how.
And while I’m at it, I should ask the search engines how the fuck to stop spiraling, because I am. Slightly. Okay,a lot.
I didn’t take my meds today, and that might’ve sort of had something to do with my overreaction in the parking lot. Marcus kind of tired my body out with the whipping and spanking and back-to-back fucking, so my brain had no capacity to start that familiar rhythm.
Scratch.
Scratch.
Scratch.
It starts again, slow at first, but then it gains momentum.
Because Marcus is asleep and I’m not.
Will not.
I pretended to fall asleep earlier after we took a showerand he sucked my cock so good, I was basically blabbering as I came down his throat.
I’m starting to feel shitty because he drops to his knees all the time, taking my cock in his mouth like it’s nothing, but I’llnever, ever do that.
If I weren’t such a selfish bastard, I would’ve at least refused the favor, but hey, my dick likes Marcus’s mouth a bit too much to say no.
And really, can I ever refuse anything he gives me?
I stare at his sleepy face. He’s lying on his back, having fallen asleep hugging me from behind, but I disentangled myself because the feel of his skin makes me hard.
Yes, after coming at least five times tonight.Sue me.
Honestly, with Marcus, I’m not even fucking around but still finding out.
Now, I’m lying on my side, my head propped on my palm. The only real position I can take in this small bed that barely fits us squished together.
I can’t help watching his gloriously naked body. He put on boxers, and the sheet covers his middle, but I can still see the intricate links of the chain sliding down his neck, side, and torso.
Then there’s the daisy and the dagger, the ink glinting under the soft light of the side table—the one he kept on because I asked.
He did so without questioning me about it or making a joke. He just nodded and wrapped his hands around me from behind, then brushed his lips along the sensitive skin below my ear, whispering, “I’m glad you stayed, baby.”
So I couldn’t really perform my favorite hobby—running away.
Not when he hugged me likethat. Talked to me likethat.
Need to call my daddy and ask for tips on how to never grow soft and stupid, because really, Marcus won’t want me to stay.
Not if he knows I’m not safe for him.
That’s why I’m refusing to sleep—so he doesn’t touch me all of a sudden and I don’t accidentally fucking kill him.
But not sleeping isn’t a perfect solution, because I keep looking at the daisy and the dagger, and that doesn’t help the static flooding my brain.
All sorts of jumbled scenarios are flowing in, and the most prominent thought is that Marcus totally got that tattoo for a girl.
And it wasn’t his mom. Yes, there are a lot of plants and flowers in his house, but they’re mostly roses, so his mom prefers those. If he got it for her, it would be the generic rose, and he wouldn’t have put it in such an intimate place that can only be seen when he’s naked—or almost naked.
Who the fuck made such a huge impression on this unfeeling, inflexible, grudge-holding bastard that he tattooed her on him?
Sure, it could be some cool tattoo he thought of, but nah, nope. When I asked him, he had this disgustingly nostalgic look in his eyes before he buried it under lock and key and said it was a secret.
