Chapter 16 - Marisol
When he says “yes,” I feel the word vibrate through my whole body.
Not just the sound but the surrender underneath it, the crumbling of walls he’s maintained for years.
His tears are still damp on my fingers from holding his face while he broke apart, confessing about Afghanistan, about the mother and child he couldn’t save.
I shift in his lap, straddling him properly now, my thighs bracketing his hips.
The silk of my sleep shorts rides up, and I can feel him beneath me through his sweatpants.
Already hard, his cock pressing against my pussy through the thin barriers.
The friction makes me gasp, my clit throbbing with sudden, violent need.
His eyes are red-rimmed, raw, stripped of every defense. I've seen him throw men into rocks, fuck me mechanically, lock himself in bathrooms to come alone. But this broken, open version of him is the most beautiful thing I've ever witnessed.
"Look at me," I whisper, cupping his face with trembling hands.
He does look, and I see everything. The soldier who followed orders, the man who hates himself for it, the monster he believes himself to be. Behind it all, I see the boy who lost his father and tried to turn his sister into a weapon to protect her.
"I see you," I tell him, my voice catching. "All of you. The parts you show the world and the parts you hide." I rock against him, slow and deliberate, grinding my pussy against his hardening cock. The silk of my shorts is already damp. "And I want every piece."
His hands find my waist, grip tightening until I know I'll have bruises tomorrow. Good. I want his marks on me. Want to press on them later and remember this moment.
"Marisol."
"No." I kiss him, hard and hungry, my tongue invading his mouth, tasting salt from his tears. When I pull back, we're both panting. "No more walls." Another kiss, deeper, wetter, my teeth catching his lower lip. "I don't want the controlled version. I don't want tactical precision."
"What do you want?" His voice is wrecked, barely recognizable.
"Everything you've been locking away." I grind down harder and we both groan. My pussy clenches around nothing. "Remember on the boat? When I grabbed your cock through your pants?"
His hands tighten on my waist, fingers digging into my flesh. "Fuck, Marisol."
"You were so hard. Even then, rejecting me, you wanted me." I rock against him again, feeling his cock twitch beneath me, fully hard, straining against his sweatpants. "I could feel how thick you were. How badly you wanted to fuck me."
"I wanted to bend you over the side of that boat," he admits, voice rough. "Wanted to rip those sequins off you and fuck you until you screamed."
Heat floods through me, my nipples hardening against the thin fabric of my tank top. "Why didn't you?"
"Because you were drunk. Because I'm supposed to protect you, not…"
"Not what? Not want me?" I lean in, lips brushing his ear. "Your cock is pressing against my pussy right now, Nico. I can feel how much you want me. How hard you are. Stop fighting it."
His hands shake against my skin. Actually shake, this controlled soldier trembling. "You don't understand," he says roughly. "When I lose control, I'm not gentle. The things I want to do to you."
"Tell me." I pull back to study his face, still grinding against him, the friction making my clit throb. "Tell me exactly what you want to do to me."
His eyes go black, pupils blown wide with lust. "I want to pin you down and fuck you until you can't walk. Want to mark every inch of your skin so everyone knows you're mine. Want to make you take my cock until you're sobbing, begging, completely ruined for anyone else."
My pussy clenches hard, a fresh wave of wetness soaking my shorts. "Then do it."
"You don't know what you're asking."
"I'm asking you to stop holding back." I grab his hands, guide them under my tank top to my bare breasts. His palms are rough, callused from all those pull-ups, and when they close over my tits, I moan. "Fuck me like you mean it. Like you've been wanting to since day one."
Something shifts in his eyes. The last wall crumbling. The monster he's so afraid of surfaces, and God, it's beautiful.
In one fluid motion he flips us. My back hits the mattress, his weight pinning me down, and I've never felt anything better than being trapped beneath him.
"Marisol Rosetti," he growls against my throat, and the words make my pussy clench. His mouth attacks my neck, sucking hard, teeth scraping. "Say it. Tell me you're my woman. Just for tonight."
"I'm yours," I gasp as he bites down, marking me. "Your Rosetti wife, Nico."
He pulls back just enough to grab my tank top with both hands and tear it straight down the middle. The sound of ripping fabric, the casual display of strength, makes me even wetter.
"Fuck," he breathes, staring at my exposed breasts. "Your tits are… perfect. No better tits exist in the whole world."
His hands are everywhere. Squeezing, pinching, rolling my nipples between his fingers until they're almost painfully hard. Then his mouth replaces his hands, sucking one nipple while his fingers torment the other.
"Been thinking about these since you showed up at my door," he admits between licks and bites. "Jerking off in the shower, imagining my cock between them, coming all over your chest."
"Jesus, Nico."
"That's what you do to me." He switches breasts, sucking harder, teeth grazing. "Make me so fucking hard I have to lock myself away just to come."
"Not anymore," I manage between gasps. "No more locked doors. When you come, I want to see it. Want to watch your face when you fill me up."
He groans against my breast, the vibration making me arch beneath him. His hand slides down my stomach, fingers hooking in my sleep shorts.
"These need to go." He doesn't wait for permission, just tears them down my legs along with my soaked panties in one rough motion. The cool air hits my exposed pussy and I shiver. "Christ, woman. And I thought your tits were perfect."
He spreads my legs wide, hands on my inner thighs keeping me open for his inspection. His eyes devour me, and I've never felt more exposed or more desired.
His eyes darken as he traces through my wetness, his touch feather-light yet devastating. "You're exquisite here too," he murmurs. "I should have known. Have you been thinking about me?"
"Since that night on the boat," I admit, fighting to keep my hips still as his finger circles my most sensitive spot, desperate to maintain some semblance of control. "When I'm alone at night…"
"And did it satisfy you?" His voice drops lower.
"No," I whisper, my breath catching. "Nothing compares to when you—oh!"
He slides two fingers deep inside me without warning, curling them expertly against my inner walls. His thumb works in deliberate circles while his fingers create a rhythm that makes coherent thought impossible.
"It wouldn't be enough," he says, watching my expressions intently as my body responds to his skilled touch. "Tonight, just tonight, you're my Rosetti woman. Tell me what you need from me."
"Please," I beg, already trembling on the edge from his fingers and his words. "I need…"
"I know exactly what you need." He withdraws his touch completely, leaving me aching and empty. "But first, I'm going to taste you until I hear you scream my name."
He moves down my body, settling between my spread thighs. The first touch of his tongue to my clit makes me cry out, my hands flying to his hair.
This isn't like last time. Controlled, precise. He's devouring me, his tongue everywhere at once. Licking from my entrance to my clit, sucking my folds into his mouth, fucking me with his tongue while his nose presses against my clit.
"Fuck, you taste so good," he groans against my pussy, the vibrations making me shake. "This is my new favorite restaurant."
He slides three fingers inside me this time, stretching me while his mouth attacks my clit. The dual sensation is overwhelming. Too much and not enough all at once. I can’t even find a smart reply to his restaurant quip because my mouth isn’t forming proper words, just incoherent moans.
"Look at me," he commands, and I force my eyes open, looking down at him between my thighs. His eyes are dark, intense, watching me fall apart. "I want you to watch me make you come."
His fingers curl again inside me while his lips seal around my clit, sucking hard. The orgasm hits me suddenly, violently, consuming. I scream his name, my pussy clenching around his fingers, my whole body convulsing.
He doesn't stop. If anything, he goes harder, his fingers pumping faster while his tongue flicks my oversensitive clit.
"Again," he growls. "Come again for me."
"I can't… it's too…"
"You can." He adds a fourth finger, the stretch almost painful but in the best way. "This pussy is going to take everything I give it."
The second orgasm builds impossibly fast, stacking on top of the first. When it crashes over me, I actually sob, tears streaming down my face from the intensity. My pussy spasms around his fingers, clenching and releasing in waves that seem to go on forever.
"You’re beautiful when you come," he says, finally pulling back, his mouth and chin glistening with my arousal.
I smile lazily. “I think you mean disheveled.”
“No. Beautiful.”
“Your turn now,” I tell him, trying to pull him down so I can feel that thick cock inside me.
He smiles almost cruelly. “Yes it is, wife.”
At the glint in his eyes, I wonder if I should have kept his true self caged up after all. Maybe he had good reason to keep it silenced.
But all thoughts flee when he stands and strips off his shirt to reveal all that military-honed muscle, the scars and ink I've been dying to explore. Then his sweatpants drop and his cock springs free. Thick, long, the head already wet with precum.
"Get on your knees," he commands.
I scramble to obey, kneeling on the bed in front of him. His cock is right there, inches from my face, and my mouth waters.