Thanks for the tag @exhausteddiaz. We could trade these forever <3
A little more of "fresh from the convent, Marisol slept with 'Firehose' 5 years before she met Eddie."
(I'm actually starting to feel so bad for poor dear naive sunshine Marisol in this fic.)
Marisol’s grandmother and tias used to talk about men when they were assembling tamales. Now that she thinks about it, perhaps some of the hair-raising stories she heard contributed to her early urge to enter the convent. But one refrain was repeated over and over again, and she remembers it now. “You can say no once in a while, of course, but if you do it too often, don’t be surprised when he stops trying altogether. Men take rejection personally. It’s just easier to go along with it and keep things peaceful.”
So, she keeps things peaceful. “The sun was coming up by then,” she tells Eddie. “So Buck—well, we—you know—over the dresser so we could both watch it.” Eddie must like the thought of that, if the sound he makes is any indication.
“Show me.”
So she shows him. Eddie’s dresser isn’t in front of a floor-to-ceiling window like Buck’s, but it does have a mirror. When Eddie’s inside she looks over her own shoulder at his face and, instead of meeting her eyes in the mirror, his are closed. She takes the opportunity to watch him. Jaw set, forehead furrowed in concentration on her pleasure.
“You feel so good deep inside me,” she urges him on.
He cracks one eye open. “Hey, have you ever tried—?” Then he clamps a hand over her mouth. Eddie doesn’t get kinky very often, so she’s always encouraging when he does. She squeezes around him. He speeds up his thrusts.
Then the strangest thing. When he comes he shouts and it sounds like he says “Buc—”
Tagging @arimakes, @quiethauntings, my nemesis @zinnydark, and lovely @perlaret. No pressure!
