21. Marisol
Marisol
N o one outside her family had ever spent the night at her house.
Even then, it was only Lola and her husband, Javi.
It wasn’t as if she was opposed to company; she simply didn’t have people worth inviting over.
Never had a girls’ night where all her friends would eat way too much, drink far too much wine, and watch sappy romance movies.
She definitely never had a man she was interested in staying the night.
Until now.
Her heart pounded so hard, it felt like it might burst from her chest. A whirlwind of nerves and excitement tangled inside her, each battling for dominance.
She twisted her hands together, the motion a subconscious attempt to release the anxious energy coiling within her.
Lost in her thoughts, she barely registered the movement until a pair of large, warm hands gently enveloped hers. Startled, she looked up.
Cisco—had he always been this close?—stared back at her. He brought her clasped hands to his lips and kissed her gently. “You look beautiful. ”
His words were enough to pop the bubble of anxiety looming over her. A laugh burst free from her lips, slightly too high in pitch. “I just cried all over you. My eyes are puffy, and my makeup is fucked. I know I’m the furthest thing from beautiful, but you’re sweet for saying that.”
“It’s the truth.” He lifted his hand to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. “You’ve never been more beautiful to me.”
Years from now, someone, somewhere, would ask her about the moment she knew she had found her person. And her answer wouldn’t be a huge, grand gesture of love, or a romantic stroll through a park.
No, it would be the story of a bathroom, a lost cat, and far too many tears. And, of course, the man who had supported her all throughout the day, never once complaining.
This feeling was sudden and new. Powerful and fragile. She kept it close to her heart, not ready to dip her toes into the vast ocean of this emotion until she was certain he’d join her.
But she did kiss him.
Her body gravitated toward him, pulled along by an invisible string. They met in the middle, a clash of tongue and teeth. Cisco backed her up until Marisol’s ass hit the counter. Hooking his hands behind her thighs, he lifted her up onto it.
Cisco moved between her legs, and she had no choice but to open for him until she straddled his hips. Heat rushed to her core, and the lacy underwear she wore pulled tight in the center, creating friction. It was hot and felt so damn good, but it wasn’t enough.
She needed more.
Needed him.
Without thinking, her hands ran under his shirt, feeling the hardness of his muscles. This man was sin incarnate, detailing each of her wildest fantasies. But even in her wildest fantasies, the men had never looked this good.
Cisco broke the kiss, causing Marisol to whimper embarrassingly. “Do you want my shirt off, Princesa?”
The heat in her eyes told her he wanted less clothing between them. That a swarm of emotion burned brightly inside him, but he was still checking on her. Making sure this was what she wanted. The normal doubt that plagued her mind when making decisions wasn’t there.
“I want it,” she said with certainty.
In one easy movement, he had his shirt off, tossing it to the ground.
All of his tattoos were on display, stealing the breath from her lips.
Not a single part of his torso was free of tattoos.
A few decorated his hips then disappeared into his jeans.
She wanted nothing more than to see where those went.
Sex had never been something she desired.
She definitely didn’t understand the thrill of it because Archie had left her less than satisfied on many occasions.
She had thought she was the problem because it took a lot for her to climax.
After all, Archie never seemed to have a problem orgasming.
The only enjoyment she had gotten from it was when it was all over.
He certainly never soaked her panties like Cisco was currently doing.
“You want these off too, Princesa?” Cisco’s husky voice made her snap her attention up from his groin.
She refused to be ashamed at staring at him like she wanted to eat him for dessert.
Because, quite frankly, that was exactly what she wanted.
He fingered the waistband of his jeans, toying with her.
In response, she took off her shirt, exposing her black bra.
It wasn’t one of her sexiest or frilliest bras, but it did make her boobs look great and perky, so she couldn’t complain.
Now it was his time to stare at her, lust in his expression.
This was what it felt like to be desired… and it was a damn good feeling.
“Off,” she said, speaking with a new, growing confidence. “I want them off.”
Cisco never tore his eyes from hers. He undid his belt and then the button on his jeans. He took his sweet time pulling down his zipper, but it was worth it in the end. He dropped his jeans and stepped out of them. He wore only black silk boxers, and they did little to hide the erection he sported.
“Wow,” she murmured.
“A lot of tattoos, I know.” He chuckled.
Right. She was definitely talking about the tattoos decorating both of his legs, all the way up to his hips, and not the large cock he was hiding in those small boxers.
“Your turn, Princesa.” Cisco approached her, reaching for the waistband of her joggers. He waited, giving her time to put a stop to it if she wanted. But she didn’t want to stop. If she stopped now, her body would never forgive her.
She lifted her ass off the counter the best she could, and Cisco discarded her pants next to his shirt. His gaze went down to her very obviously wet panties, and a sly grin crossed his face. It shouldn’t be hot, but it only served to turn her on more.
“Cisco?”
“Hmm?” he asked, clearly distracted. His hands went to her back, fingering the clasps of her bra.
“I…I mean…it’s just that—” She took a deep breath, knowing she probably sounded like an inexperienced fool. She definitely felt like one.
Cisco waited on her patiently, not unhooking her bra yet, but also not removing his hands either.
“I just don’t want you to get upset if you can’t…uh, make me finish. It’s me and not you,” she assured quickly as his brows drew together.
This was it. He was going to say he wasn’t interested in a girl he couldn’t get to climax. She was aware it was an ego thing, and the last thing she wanted to do was hurt him.
She braced herself for the worst…but it never came.
Instead, she felt tension leave her chest as her clasp came undone.
“If you haven’t finished, it’s not you. It’s because your partners are shit and don’t know their way around a pussy.”
Well…okay then. She supposed that settled that.
The straps of her bra slid down her arms, and cold air hit her nipples. They hardened to painful points. Cisco’s thumb gently caressed her, sending jolts of pleasure straight to her core.
“These men don’t know how to handle a princess when they have one. But I do,” he said before dropping and kneeling on the floor of her bathroom between her spread legs.
Oh shit, this was happening.
Marisol didn’t have time to be self-conscious because Cisco leaned forward, the top of his nose scraping across her wetness. “Fucking perfect,” he groaned as he inhaled. “I think this pretty pussy needs my attention. Don’t you agree?”
Yes. Yes. And fuck yes , she thought but could only manage a simple, shaky nod.
It was all Cisco needed though.
Without another word, he yanked off her panties, letting them pool on the ground. It hardly seemed fair that he still had on his boxers while she was completely exposed to him in every single way. But it was incredibly sexy.
Cisco pushed her legs farther apart, placing his large hand on her stomach and gently easing her down until her back hit the mirror.
She was on full display for him, completely at his mercy.
Yet she still couldn’t help but feel she held all the power.
Like, if she wanted it all to stop, he would, without question or anger.
But stopping was the last thing on her mind.
The first sweep of his tongue caught her off guard, and she shivered. “You taste so sweet, Princesa. So fucking sweet.”
Marisol didn’t have a chance to reply before his tongue lapped at her again, pushing through her folds to taste her cream. When he pulled back, she saw her arousal glistening on his lips.
“This pussy is mine tonight,” he purred.
Tonight and every night if he wanted it, but she didn’t have the nerve to say. “More,” she said instead. “Please, Cisco.”
“Gladly.” He smirked and buried his head between her thighs again. This time, he ate her out in earnest, licking at her. His tongue found her clit, teasing the sensitive bundle of nerves, and she shivered.
“Oh, god…” she gasped as if she were in church and Cisco was the Holy Spirit working his way through her. Except this felt so much better and didn’t leave her feeling guilty.
It left her wanton.
She reached down, running her hand through his hair and arching into him. This was not how she pictured the night going, her getting eaten out on her bathroom counter, but it was the best possible ending to an extremely tumultuous night.
Marisol’s body jolted as two fingers brushed against her folds, finding their way inside her. Her body clenched around them, needing to be filled more but taking what she was given. Her legs shook as Cisco sucked her clit back into his mouth.
Molten heat coiled low in her belly, and waves of pleasure pushed her closer and closer to the edge. She had put up with bad sex for too long. If she knew getting eaten out felt like this, she would have dumped Archie way before they got married.
Cisco was right. It wasn’t her that was the problem. It had never been her.
“Cisco…” Her voice quivered, muscles tensing. Cisco did not relent. If anything, it spurred him on even more.