22. Cisco
Cisco
S omething heavy plopped down on his chest followed by a fluffy tail hitting his face. Cisco groaned. Despite his better judgment, he forced his eyelids to open and was immediately blessed with the view of Snowball’s butt. Lovely .
Not exactly the sight he wanted to see after a night of passionate sex with the woman he was falling for.
Curled up next to him was a very naked Marisol, covered only by a thin sheet. She was cuddled into his side, her head resting on his shoulder. Her hair was sprawled out across the pillow and his face, but he had no complaints.
She was fucking beautiful.
Visions of last night replayed in his mind. His head between her legs, tasting heaven. The moans she made as she writhed underneath his touch. How he felt when he was inside her. It was all perfect.
And he wanted more.
Cisco turned his body, much to Snowball’s protest. The cat meowed angrily at him before prancing out of the room. Probably for the best. He didn’t need Snowball seeing the things he was about to do to her mother.
Cisco pressed his lips to Marisol’s shoulder, pulling her closer. The sheet slid down, exposing the expanse of brown skin he wanted to lick from head to toe. She smelled so fucking good, like fruit and candy. One taste wasn’t enough. No, he was addicted now.
“Cisco?” she murmured in her sleep, a sultry, throaty morning voice.
His cock hardened at the sound of his name.
“Morning, Princesa,” he purred, leaving a line of soft kisses from her shoulder up to her jaw. A soft moan escaped her lips, fueling his desires. Fuck, her moans of pleasure were music to his ears.
She settled on top of him, their bodies pressed together. His hard length throbbed against her belly as she wiggled on top of him, creating friction. He groaned, and Marisol giggled. “Someone’s awake.”
There was no denying it.
“Awake and hungry,” he murmured.
Marisol placed her hands on his chest, lifting herself up. It gave him the perfect view of her tits and hard nipples. God, she was perfect. He wanted to bury his head between her chest and suffocate himself. Seemed like a good way to go.
“I can order us breakfast,” she offered and tried to move off the bed.
She didn’t get far before his arms wound around her waist and pulled her back. “Stay.”
The beautiful smile she gave him was enough to lose his damn breath. “Well, if you’re hungry, I need to order something.”
“I’m not hungry for food,” he said, licking his lips .
Marisol tilted her head to the side, one brow arched in curiosity. Then, realization dawned, and she gasped, her full lips forming a perfect “O.” A rosy flush spread across her cheeks, the sight of her flustered expression impossibly endearing.
“Oh. I see. What are you hungry for?” she asked coyly, biting her bottom lip.
She already knew the answer, but he decided to humor her anyway. “You.”
Heat flashed in her eyes, a hunger that matched his own. She leaned forward, her lips brushing against his ear. Every hair on his body stood up on end. “I’m right here, Cisco. Come take me,” she murmured.
“Sit on my face, Princesa,” he said. “And give me my breakfast.”
Marisol’s confidence wavered as her body tensed. “Sit on your face? Wouldn’t that…uhm, like hurt? Could you breathe?”
“Breathing is overrated.” If she only knew, moments ago, he had been prepared to drown himself in her tits.
“Cisco, I don’t want to hurt you?—”
He reached up, cradling her head in his hands before pulling her down to him.
His lips met hers in a fiery, passionate kiss.
His tongue flicked out, forcing her open for him.
She obeyed willingly, allowing him to explore her mouth.
Morning breath be damned, she was still the best thing he had ever tasted.
He pulled back after a moment, and she gasped, chest heaving. “Let’s make one thing very clear, Princesa. When I say sit on my face, I need you to sit on my fucking face and let me eat.”
She took in another shuddering breath but this time didn’t argue.
She nodded once and pushed herself up until she was straddling his waist. He motioned her forward with a crook of his finger.
She was slow to listen but cautiously began to scoot up his body.
She stopped just shy of his face. Her pretty pussy was close but still unattainable.
“More. Hands on the headboard,” he encouraged but didn’t push. She needed to be the one to make the decision. Even if that left him turned on and waiting.
“If you die, it’s not my fault,” she said at last, moving up the last few inches until she was finally straddling his head.
“It’s very much your fault, but I consent.” He smiled wickedly, his hands coming to grip her thigh. He could see her arousal glistening between her legs. The first lick of his tongue had them both moaning out in ecstasy.
He dug his fingers into her thighs, pulling her down so she was no longer hovering over him but fully seated on his face, just like he wanted. Marisol gasped, grinding down on him. “Cisco…” she whimpered.
Dragging his tongue up the seam of her pussy lips, he found her clit, sucking the bundle of nerves into his mouth. “Ride me,” he growled, voice muffled.
But he knew she heard because she lifted her ass slightly, grinding herself back down on his face.
He had died and gone to heaven.
“Cisco…baby.” The moan left Marisol’s lips.
Something about her calling him baby drove him fucking crazy.
He liked it. Liked it too damn much. It was something he wanted to hear days, weeks…
hell, years from now. It would never get old.
Waking up next to her, pulling her onto his face, and indulging in his own personal paradise.
Already, Marisol’s thighs shook. He knew she was still sore from last night, which made him far cockier than he deserved. He brought his hands up to grip her ass, squeezing. Her bounces became more frenzied, and he helped guide her movements.
“Fucking perfect,” he breathed into her pussy, not knowing if Marisol heard him, or if she was too close to the edge to pay any attention to him. The thought of her using him to take her own pleasure was fucking hot. He’d be her toy if she wanted.
A few moments later, Marisol clenched around his head and came on his tongue with a needy moan. His face and chest were wet with her desire, as if leaving her scent on him to deter others.
He was a claimed man.
He was her man.
They hadn’t said it in so many words, but they didn’t need to. He knew where he stood.
Marisol was slow to move off him, her chest still heaving. He expected to see her blushing, but he only saw a sense of immense satisfaction on her face. Good. Confidence looked great on her.
Marisol took one look at him and laughed. “I think we need to shower.”
“We’re showering together,” he said.
There was no protest on her end. She slid off the bed, her glorious naked body on full display for him. Part of him wondered if he’d be able to tattoo her again, wanting to add to her story. And it would be him to tattoo her again because no other man would ever get the pleasure.
Marisol was his canvas. His muse.
“It would save us water if we showered together. Better for the Earth,” Marisol mused.
Cisco nodded in agreement, suddenly the spokesperson for the Go Green movement. “Much better for Earth. ”
“Just make sure to keep your hands to yourself, Cisco.” She winked at him and disappeared into the bathroom.
He did not, in fact, keep his hands to himself. Or his mouth. Or his cock. Granted, he never promised her anything, and after he had her up against the shower wall moaning his name, he figured he’d be forgiven.
When they finally managed to pry themselves out of the shower, Marisol got out first, handing him a hot-pink towel. He raised a brow as he took it, but she just shrugged. “I like pink,” was all she said as she changed into a silk robe. Pink, of course.
Cisco tied the towel around his waist, hoping he’d be able to find his clothes thrown throughout the room. He wished he planned better and brought clothes to change into, but he hadn’t expected to stay the night.
“I need to feed Snowball!” Marisol called from her bedroom. “I’m putting your clothes in the washer too.”
So, he’d stay in a pink towel for longer. There were worse ways to spend his morning. The only thing he could do was fix his hair, using a flowery-smelling mousse he found on Marisol’s counter to style it. It wasn’t perfect, but he had spent long enough in the bathroom.
Cisco found Snowball first once he entered the kitchen. She was licking up her food, happy as can be with no remorse at having her owner panicked about her whereabouts yesterday. He was just happy they found her, not knowing how he’d support Marisol if they didn’t.
Marisol leaned over the counter, reading something on her phone with a frown. She didn’t look happy at whatever stole her attention. “Are you okay?” He felt silly for asking the question, because it was obvious she wasn’t.
Marisol’s head snapped up, startled by his voice. Indecision colored her features, and he wondered if she was going to tell him what was on her mind or downplay it. He hoped for the former because, after last night, they were well past the latter. Or so he hoped.
After a moment of silence, Marisol sighed and dropped her phone. “It’s my mom.”
Instantly his interest was piqued. “What about her?”
“She’s reminding me that she wants me over for dinner.” She quickly pushed herself off the counter. “But I’m just going to say I’m busy?—”
“We should go.”
“What?” Marisol paused, looking at him like he just sprouted another head and not like he suggested attending a family dinner.
“Why not? We can go together,” he suggested, his tone gentle but unwavering.
Cisco didn’t know every detail about her relationship with her mother, but he knew enough just from things Marisol did or said.
It was deeply strained, fractured in a way that might never be repaired.
He wasn’t sure if fixing it was even possible, and he certainly didn’t want to be the one to push Marisol into something she wasn’t ready for.
Still, he believed she deserved the chance to show her parents just how much she thrived without them.
Besides, at some point, he’d have to meet them. Sooner or later, he would come face to face with the people who had shaped Marisol, for better or worse. And, truthfully, he wanted to understand her more—to uncover the unspoken pieces of her past that made her the woman she was today .
“I don’t know. My mom is…intense. She’s not going to like…” Marisol gestured to his tattoos.
Cisco raised a brow. “Do you like them?”
“Of course I do.”
“Good. I’m not dating your mom, Princesa. I don’t give a damn about what she thinks of my tattoos. People are always going to have their opinions on them. We can’t help that.”
“I know, but you don’t know my mother. She’s a lot, and I don’t want her saying something that is going to fuck up what we have.”
Ah, so there was the problem. Marisol feared he’d run away after seeing how controlling her mother was.
He was used to being stared at and judged.
It no longer bothered him like it once did.
Her mother had no real ammunition against him, other than his looks.
She had no way of knowing about his past—nobody did. He wasn’t worried about it.
Marisol crossed the kitchen and stopped in front of him. She wrapped her arms around his neck as Cisco snaked an arm around her waist and pulled her closer.
“You ashamed of me, Princesa?”
“Not even a little.” She leaned up to kiss him gently.
Cisco let his lips linger a moment longer before pulling back. “Then we’ll go. And afterwards, we can come back here, and I can bury my head between your thighs again.”
The reddish tint to her cheeks was adorable. He liked how bashful she could be about sex, but then also ride his face like her life depended on it.
“Surely you are going to grow tired of that.” She tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear.
“Maybe when I’m dead, but even then, I doubt it.”
Her laugh filled his chest with warmth. He loved hearing it. Loved seeing her smile. She didn’t do it often enough, and each time he was able to make her let her guard down, he counted that as a win.
“Fine,” she conceded. “We can go. Just don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
“I promise not to hold it against you.” He winked and leaned down to kiss her one last time. He couldn’t foresee dinner with her parents going badly.
And even if it did, he planned to be by her side through it, even if that meant rearranging some appointments at work.
Tiny would have her work cut out for her, juggling his schedule, but he needed to be with Marisol this weekend.
Even if that meant he’d be working a few extra hours, his girl was worth it.