Chapter 21

This time, the sky is black instead of light. "Geronimo," I yell just before I throw myself from the plane, executing a perfect swan dive into thin air. The sky is littered with other parachutes, my buddies giving me a thumbs up as they fall around me. It becomes so dark that I can't see them, their bodies fading into blurred shadows. Something crashes into me, a heavy body splattering blood on my face. I can taste it on my tongue, the bitter coppery tang.

The taste of death. If only I could see their face.

Maybe… maybe this time it's not Brian's.

Rain beats down on my shoulders, pelting my face like bullets. It stains my goggles red. But it's not rain, it's blood. It's raining blood.

I know what comes next, and I brace for it, the impact that will crush every bone in my body to dust. Blinding pain that will seize every function except my breathing.

I wish it would take my breath.

Maybe if I die in my dream, I won't wake up and remember that he's gone. Maybe I won't have to dream this again tomorrow night.

I swipe the blood from my goggles and look up into the face of my best friend. His face is frozen in death, staring back at me like the Grim Reaper, like he's coming for my soul next.

The piercing scream rips from my throat and the sound of it wakes me from my sleep. Before I can catch my bearings, I flail wildly and roll, banging my head against the nightstand.

"Holy fuck!" That hurts. But it stops me from falling on the floor.

A dark shadow appears, and I can barely make him out, but I'm relieved to see Riggs's face instead of the one from my nightmare.

"Rhett, are you hurt?"

I try to straighten out and roll over, but my legs are tangled in the sheets. "Turn the light on," I rasp, my throat raw and dry.

He reaches for the bedside lamp and a soft glow chases away the dark shadows that haunt me.

"You're sweating and pale. Are you okay?"

"I don't know. I guess, I mean, I didn't hurt myself, but I feel—" anything I might have said dies a quick death on my tongue when I raise my head and realize… Riggs is naked . His cock is soft and dangling, and he's uncut.

He follows my gaze and curses. "Shit, I rushed in here without thinking."

"I'm not complaining. You're—" thick… "You're—" trimmed… "You're—" perfect .

"Naked. And leaving."

"No, wait. I?—"

"I'm not gonna stand here while you eye fuck me. Let me grab some pants. Christ, what did you think I slept in?" he mumbles.

"Do you wanna see what I sleep in?"

"Do not pull that cover back, Rhett," he warns, choking on his laughter. He runs out of my room and reappears a minute later, wearing an old, worn pair of gray sweats.

How disappointing. I used to love a man in gray sweats, but now that I've seen him naked, sweatpants don't hold a candle to birthday suits.

Riggs surprises me when he spreads out on the bed, occupying the cold, empty space beside me. Unfortunately, he's lying on top of the blanket while I'm underneath it. My heart is still racing as if I ran a marathon, and my stomach feels off like I swallowed sour milk.

"That's not the first time you dreamt that, is it?" He's more stating a fact than asking.

"I wish."

"Tell me what you see."

If anyone would understand, it'd be Riggs, but that doesn't make the words flow any easier. "I see his face. But it's not his face, not really. More like some grim death mask. He bumps into me mid-air, which really happened, and his blood splatters on my face."

Riggs sneaks his hand across the divide between us and takes mine in his grip, softly squeezing. "Did that happen, too?"

I nod, swallowing past the hard lump constricting my throat. "But in my dream, it's night instead of day, and it's raining. After I see him dead, the rain turns to blood, and by the time I crash, I'm soaked and slippery with blood."

"Is it his blood?" He brushes his thumb across the back of my hand, sending a wave of electric heat up my arm.

"I guess so. When I hit the ground, every bone in my body crumbles to dust, but I'm still conscious."

"Jesus Christ, Rhett."

"Pretty much. That's usually when I wake up."

"When are you going to start talking to Brewer?"

I look down at our joined hands before turning my head to face him. "I know I've been puttin' it off. Maybe after my mama leaves."

"It'll help, I promise. You know what else would help?"

I lift my brows, asking silently.

"Talking to the guys, either in group or one-on-one. Nash especially. He suffers terribly from nightmares. Ask him what works for him."

"Smooth, Riggs. Real smooth."

He chuckles. "We didn't create the group because we wanted to learn to knit. It helps, but as Brewer says, it only works if you work it."

Sighing loudly, I breathe out and nod again. "I hear you, Riggs. I do, I swear." He lifts our joined hands, smiling at the sight before he tries to pull away. I tug him back. "Did you mean what you said?"

"I don't know, I say a lot of things," he jokes, evading the question.

"Do you think about me a lot?"

Riggs rolls on his side and stares back. "What do you think?"

I smile devilishly. "I think you can't stop. I think you're dyin' to touch me."

"I am," he admits boldly, his dark gaze dropping to my lips.

My tongue snakes out to lick them. "What are you waitin' for?"

Riggs reaches out to stroke my jaw. "I have no fucking clue."

His head draws nearer and I can feel the heat of his breaths ghost across my lips. Am I still dreaming? Because if I am, I hope I never wake up.

"Riggs," I groan as his mouth brushes mine. He dives right in, swiping his tongue over mine, getting tangled up in it. I feel him everywhere, like wildfire flowing through my veins, igniting my entire body on fire. He loses control, burying his face in my neck, sucking hard on my skin, his fingers bruising my jaw, tugging at my hair. Like me, he can't catch his breath, and I feel like we're falling over the side of a cliff together. Like a jump from the highest altitude with no chute. "Fuck," I breathe, rolling onto him to straddle his hips. His cock strains against the thin cotton. I'm dying to taste him, but I gotta go slow. It took me forever to get this far with him, so I can't risk spooking him now. Maybe if I drive him out of his mind, he won't be able to hit the brakes. I rock my hips into him, grinding my ass over his dick.

"Rhett," he hisses.

"Feels good?"

He answers by digging his fingers into my hips and urging me back and forth. He looks lust drunk as he stares up into my eyes. I can't stop looking at his mouth. He nods and I lower my head to his lips, sucking on them until they're puffy and wet. When I nip his bottom lip, he bucks hard against me, fitting his hard length into the crack of my ass. Riggs glances down at my bare cock bobbing with each thrust of my hips, his eyes going wide. It's not uncut or as thick as his, but he seems to like what he sees. Riggs licks his lips, looking hungry.

"Yeah?" I scoot forward, curling my fingers around the base of my cock, and feed it between his parted wet lips. That first swipe of his velvet tongue feels like religion. "Oh fuck, yes." He slurps on my crown, making my toes curl. My cock throbs, and it feels like the head is going to explode in his mouth. "Oh, God, suck me."

Riggs stares up at me as he sucks and I palm the back of his head, feeding him more of my hard length. Seeing his lips stretched around my cock has me ready to fucking blow.

How many nights have I dreamt of this? Almost every single one since I met him.

"Turn around," he rasps, his voice pure gravel.

Oh shit, is he gonna—I straddle his lap in a reverse cowboy position, facing his feet, and stick my ass in his face. His tongue glides between my cheeks and my breath rushes from my lungs like a popped balloon. He swipes over my hole and my entire body clenches before opening for him like… like… I don't fucking know. He melted my brain.

I snap my hips back and forth, shamelessly fucking his tongue. He stabs his tongue through my rim, setting all my nerve endings on fire, and I shout his name. "Riggs!"

He chuckles. "You like that? Been dying to do that to you."

What else has he been dying to do to me? "Do everything. I want it all."

Without warning, he pushes me forward, face first, into the mattress. Riggs raises onto his knees between my thighs, pushing his sweats down his legs, and grabs his cock. Glancing over my shoulder, I watch his face draw up tight in concentration as he rubs his cockhead through my crease. He slaps it against my cheek a few times before dropping a wad of spit between my cheeks. His saliva feels warm and slippery, and my body heats with anticipation, knowing it's about to get so fucking good. He uses his cock to spread it and then braces his arms beside my shoulders and drops his weight onto my back. Like a snake slithering through wet grass, I feel his dick slide through my crease, dragging over my sensitive hole.

"Been dying to do this, too." His voice is nothing but a sinful hiss in my ear, making shivers dance down my spine.

"Have you been dyin' to fuck me?" I ask hopefully, though I'm pretty sure I know the answer.

"Yeah, but I'm not going to. Gotta save something for our second date," he teases, licking the shell of my ear.

The caress of his tongue makes me shudder. "I don't mind if you play fast and loose," I pant.

Riggs chuckles, his hips slowing. "That mouth of yours." He nips my ear lightly with his teeth. "Every time you shoot it off, I imagine how to shut you up."

Fuck, yeah, he wants me to suck him? Game on! I crawl away from him and flip around, pushing him back against the headboard. "My turn." The wicked gleam in my eyes makes him huff.

God, it's fucking gorgeous. His skin color is slightly darker than mine, and my mouth waters to be filled. I slip my tongue under his foreskin, sliding around his crown. He bucks his hips and gasps. "Get it wetter," he murmurs.

Gathering all the saliva in my mouth, I bathe his sensitive head and lick under his foreskin again, pausing to tease his slit. Riggs palms my head, forcing me to take more.

"That's it, soldier, suck me."

Oh fuck, if he's gonna throw out endearments, I'll choke on his cock until he comes down my throat. Using my lips to slide his skin back, I glide down his shaft until his crown pushes against the back of my throat. His fingers tighten in my hair when I gag loudly.

"Just like that," he encourages.

My knee is screaming at me to straighten my leg, but I'd rather cut it off than stop. I use my free hand to roll his sac as I suck him noisily, and the sounds he makes are pure filth.

"You suck my cock so good." He strokes my cheek, and I pause to look into his eyes. He looks so intense, but when he smiles softly and pulls me in for a wet, sloppy kiss, my heart fucking melts. It's gone, dusted, totally owned by him.

He can fucking have it. I don't want it back. I know he'll take good care of it.

"I'm gonna make you come in my mouth," I vow, breaking the kiss. My head drops to his lap and I resume where I left off, working his length and sac in harmony until he's writhing and bucking down my throat.

"Gonna shoot, Rhett."

I suck harder, forcibly drawing out his load. Riggs grunts, pulling my head down onto his dick, pulsing thick ropes over my tongue that I greedily swallow. When I lift my head, I smile wickedly and lick my lips.

"Give me your cock," he demands, flipping me on my back.

Thank God I can straighten my leg in this position.

Riggs doesn't fuck around; he takes my dick straight to the back of his throat and sucks hard, and he doesn't let up until I come.

"Fuck. Riggs," I pant as I spill, flooding his mouth. I pull him down for a kiss before he can swallow and swipe my tongue through the mess, sharing my flavor with him.

He turns the kiss into a passionate, face-sucking, neck-bruising event that leaves me breathless. I'm addicted to him—to his kisses, his flavor, his cock, his touch, his scent, to the sound of his voice. Fuck , I sound like a goddamn greeting card. He looks into my eyes and I see that soft smile again.

I love that smile.

"Despite everything I imagined, I never could have imagined that. You blew my mind, soldier." He follows that up with a quick but soft peck on my lips.

And then he's gone. Just gets up and walks the fuck out without another word, and I lay there trying to remember my damn name, my cock still twitching pathetically, begging for another round.

But he's not gone long. He must have washed up because he returns wearing his sweats again and turns back the covers.

"Scoot over."

Hell, he don't have to tell me twice. Riggs climbs under the blanket and nestles up to me, spooning my body in a bear hug. His body heat feels like an inferno, but I love it.

"If you dream again, I'll be here. I've got you."

Don't ever let me go.