Chapter 33 Nothing Is Perfect
Nothing Is Perfect
Coco
His chest is damp when I lean into him. He smells like shower gel. A few drops of water are still clinging to his neck, and I want to scoop them all up with the tip of my tongue and drink them. Drink him.
“What else did you imagine?” He’s not smiling, but there’s something on his face that looks like warmth toward me again.
“You’re not mad anymore?”
“I’m mad as shit,” he murmurs. “But thinking about last night over and over isn’t going to help me, and I’ve decided I want to forget about it. Tell me, how did you imagine our first kiss?”
“This is a punishment for yesterday, right? You’re torturing me in your own weird way.”
“No. The torture might come later.”
I mean…how does he make torture sound so good?
“What was that kiss like?”
“It was a kiss…” I look at his mouth. God… Fuck me, he has the most beautiful mouth. “Almost by surprise. At home. Just some random day, a random moment, and suddenly…your eyes on my mouth, mine on yours, your hands on my waist and…”
“And I kissed you?”
“It’s honestly pretty heteropatriarchal, but yeah. You kissed me.”
“Did I say something to you first?” He puts his hands on my waist and looks at my mouth.
“That you’d been in love with me since you saw me in that bar, but what you feel is so intense that you never thought it was love… That to you, love always meant something else.”
“And that’s why I know it’s true. Right?”
“Stop making fun of me. It’s not funny. Either you’re angry or you’re not.”
“Coco,” he whispers as his hands wrap around my hips and squeeze me tighter to him, “I’ve been in love with you ever since I saw you in that bar, but it’s always been so perfect, so intense that…
I thought it wasn’t love. For me, love was always something else…
something disappointing. But…it was just with the wrong person. I know this is the real kind.”
Okay, Saint Peter, it’s not funny. If I died and this is the great beyond, I’d rather just know. I can barely even swallow.
“This isn’t fair,” I whimper.
“I had help, that’s true. But now let me give you the perfect kiss in my own way, huh?”
His mouth falls open a little before it meets mine.
His tongue rushes in voraciously looking for mine, and when they touch, I explode.
Everything explodes, the tension, the desire, nerves, hope, and everything I ever imagined…
and they transform into the movement of my hands climbing his shoulders and tangling in his damp hair.
Marín’s kisses are deep, slow, bold, but short. One after the other, of course. And all wet, hot, with tongue, spit, and teeth. When he slides it softly along my bottom lip, I moan.
“Shh…” he says. “Send that message. And turn off your phone.”
I pull my phone out of the pocket of my pajamas. Wait…I showed up here in pajamas? Fuck my life. I’m wearing fucking button-up pajamas in black. My phone is in the pocket.
“God, I must be off my rocker. I’m still in my pajamas.”
“You’re running around like a nutjob,” he whispers.
“I think it’s more correct to say that you drive me wild.”
Marín turns me so my back is to him, and as I type into my phone, he kisses my neck.
At first they’re gentle strokes, his nose brushing against my earlobe and his breath on my skin, but little by little the space between our bodies disappears and his breathing gets faster.
The change is almost imperceptible, but I’m paying close attention.
My back pressed to his chest, my ass lined up perfectly with his cock, and his hands…
which are starting to search for me. His mouth doesn’t take long to kiss my neck…
but a real kiss. None of those soft kisses that tickle.
No. Mouth open, teeth that leave a mark on the skin, tongue that soothes the pain right away, and then lips that hurry to caress.
Am I coming already? Is that what’s happening?
“I’m still mad,” he clarifies. “I’m just reminding you in case my behavior is confusing.”
“It is a little, to be honest.” I can’t even open Blanca’s WhatsApp to write to her.
“It kills me that you went to Gus to try… I don’t even know what you were trying.”
“To forget you,” I finally say. “And to hurt you because I felt awful.”
“Never do that to me again, please,” he whispers seriously into my ear. “That’s not you.”
“I’m going to risk pissing you off again and ask you to never prioritize Aroa and her tantrums over me.”
“The only thing that would piss me off is you not understanding that you’ve always been the priority, if it weren’t for the fact that the prospect of sex puts me in a good mood.”
“Prospect of sex? I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I feel his cock nudge my ass. Hard. The fucking towel could disappear now, right? “Hey, maybe you’re not that mad? You’re probably getting over it at this point.”
“In your imagination, the first time we slept together… Is it like transcendental or do we fuck?”
“God,” I moan. His hand grabs my tit, and his mouth is paying attention to the world of my neck again. “Both.”
“It can’t be both at the same time. You have to choose. Reality isn’t that perfect.”
“What would be more logical?”
“Type.”
Coco:
Blanca, Marín was at the hotel. I’m staying here.
We have to talk. You and I have to talk too, but first I have to fix this. I’m turning off my phone. Tell everyone not to worry.
I press send the same second his hand pushes down into my pajama pants.
“If you don’t say, I’m going to choose for you.”
“And you’re going to choose to fuck,” I say.
He immediately pulls his hands out of my pants and turns me back toward him. He’s smiling in a way I’ve never seen. I wanted him to look at me the way he looked at Aroa, and I didn’t realize that the way he looked at me was so much better. Now…he’s shining more.
“No.”
“What?” I officially lost the thread of the conversation when I said the word “fuck” out loud in the context of us.
“I’m not going to choose fucking. Do you know what pisses me off the most?”
“That I tried to hook up with my ex in the bed you were sleeping in?”
“For fuck’s sake.” He laughs and leans his forehead against my mouth. “No.” He twists and looks at me. “What fucks with me the most is that I can’t even be mad at you.”
“You can be a little mad at me.” I raise my eyebrows.
“Yeah, but…it just makes me think that if nothing is perfect, we don’t have to be either. We’ll learn from it. In fact…I think this can only be fixed by making beautiful love, Coco.”
“Okay, but…I want candles and rose petals everywhere. And a string quartet playing Post Malone covers.”
Marín raises his eyebrows. “Post Malone? God, you’re the fucking woman of my life.”
* * *
Kissing Marín is great. It’s much better than I imagined.
His lips are incredibly soft, and the way he slowly drags his teeth against my lips is like a lightning bolt that sends me out of my body.
I’m not even fully aware that I’ve walked to the bed side of the room.
I know I’m moaning in his mouth, that we’re up against the wall opposite the bathroom and we linger there for a while, nibbling each other.
God… Marín is one of those who like to take their time.
At this point with other guys, I wouldn’t even be wearing panties.
The towel falls before we get there, but I’m clinging so tightly to him I don’t see anything…until I feel the edge of the bed behind my knees and I let myself fall back. And there he is. Naked. Holy shit.
Earlier, I wanted to marry his chin in a church wedding. Now I’m not so sure. I just fell in love with his cock, and I think it likes me too.
I stroke his chest and keep moving down, still staring at his face.
He follows my hand with his eyes, not saying a word until I grab him hard.
Then his lips fall open, and he lets out a gasp.
His shoulders fall back when I slide my hand up and down on his cock.
He writhes, gives a shudder, and the tip gets wet.
“Take off your clothes, Coco. I want to see you.”
His face becomes charged with sex and desire, with his mouth open as his exhale catches and his eyes droop lazily.
I pull off my pajama top and then the shorts, throwing myself onto the same bed I was in yesterday with Gus. The thought surprises me because this room doesn’t even feel like the same country anymore. With Marín, everything’s different. I guess that must be it.
I’m wearing cotton panties that are nothing special, but he looks like he’s bowing to them when he lies on top of me and works his way down toward them, kissing and nuzzling every inch of skin in his path.
I open my legs and his lips nibble the fabric of my underwear…
I feel his nose nudging into me gently, and I arch, begging for more.
I’m embarrassed that he can feel how wet I am.
He slowly tugs them down as he ponders the perfect place to swoop down and slide his tongue between my lips. He doesn’t toss the panties with the rest of the clothes; instead, he balls them up in his fist and keeps licking so slowly I think I’m going to lose my mind.
Marín. Marín is licking me. He’s the one exploring the wet inside of my cunt with his tongue, slowly inching toward my clit, blowing softly…
I twist his hair around my fingers and ask him to look at me.
It’s the first thing I’ve said since we started kissing, and my voice sounds strange, so pleading and needy.
But he looks at me. He looks at me while he licks me, and I’m so excited it’s making his mouth wet.
“I want you inside me,” I moan.
“Already?”
“Yes,” I beg.
“I want to keep doing this forever…” He clamps his mouth back onto me, and his tongue presses fully against my clit.
I tug his hair a little and moan. I twist.
“Yesterday…” he says, his thumb replacing his tongue and his hot breath making my sensitive skin tingle, “before you came here to take a nap, I jerked off three times thinking about you.”
“About doing this?”