Page 93 of Warrior's Walk
His eyes zero in on where our bodies are joined, watching his cock plunge into my ass. I wish I could see it. I’d probably come if I could see it. His face and chest flush with sweat, hisbreath becoming labored as he picks up the pace, slamming into me. Every nerve ending in my body comes to life, registering pleasure and sensation. I reach for my cock, and he watches as I stroke it for him, my eyes burning with hunger.
“Fuck me harder,” I beg, chasing my orgasm.
He drops my ankle, grabbing my thighs instead, so he can thrust harder, deeper. “Come on, soldier, show me how you scream. Let me hear you.”
“Riggs, fuck!” He takes me over the edge with him, pulling out of my ass to shoot his load over my stomach. It mixes with my seed, pooling on my skin in a thick white puddle.
Riggs drops my legs and hovers over my body, laughing and breathless. He pops a kiss onto my lips, but I hold him there, deepening the kiss. My tongue swipes inside his mouth, and he opens for me.
“That was…”
I cut him off, supplying the right word he’s looking for. “Incredible? Epic? Unforgettable? The best sex you ever had?”
Riggs chuckles. “All of that and more. Let me get you cleaned up, and then you’re mine.”
“You wanna go another round?” I ask, smacking my ass to entice him.
“Not yet,” he grins. “I just want to climb under the covers and cuddle with you all night long.”
That sounds even better.
When we’re settled under the covers, still naked, wrapped up in each other, Riggs strokes his fingers through my hair. His lips touch my neck, my shoulder.
“I’m so sorry about your mama. I’ll never forgive myself for not being here.”
“It wasn’t your fault. It wasn’t like you wanted to leave.” His foot rubs up and down my calf. I love the feel of his warm body pressed against mine, his now-soft cock resting against thecrease of my sore ass. “Did you mean it when you said you’re done with the reserves?”
“My contract expires in three months. I may have one more weekend away, but that would be it. I’m done. No more war. No more fighting. I want to focus on helping and healing the aftermath of destruction instead of contributing to it.”
“Is that all you want to focus on?”
He hums against my ear, tickling the shell with the vibration of his voice. “I want to focus on us, on building a life with you.”
“I want that too. I missed you so badly when you were gone,” I admit, tears threatening to burn my eyes. The grief hits me at the oddest times; when I least expect it. It’s like a roller coaster of emotion, hitting me with highs and lows that completely drain me.
He wraps me in his arms tighter. “I wish I could give them back to you—your mama, Brian.”
“That’s okay. If I had to choose anyone in the world, I would still pick you. As long as I have you, I have everythin’ I need.”
This is one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do. Harder than jump school or basic training, harder than kissing my mama goodbye when I left for boot camp. Brewer’s door is open, but I knock on it, anyway.
He looks up with a smile on his face. “Come on in, Rhett.” He takes off his glasses and sets them on his desk, coming to his feet. “Did you need to talk?”
“Only if you have time.” I almost hope he doesn’t.
“I have all the time in the world for you. Why don’t you sit down and get comfortable?” He gestures toward his couch,taking the seat across from it. “You look like you have something on your mind, so I’m just going to sit and listen.”
“I don’t really know where to begin.” I can already feel my emotions welling up inside of me, threatening to spill through my eyes.
“Begin wherever you want; we’ll circle back around, eventually.”
My stomach churns with anxiety. “I was angry when I lost my best friend. So angry, and it was just so unfair. He was young, he was a good man, and he was just doing his job, tryin’ to help, fightin’ for his country.” My voice breaks on the last word, and I swipe my tears. “I thought I’d never get over that, and maybe, maybe I won’t. But losin’ my mama? I’m not even angry, I’m just… I’m heartbroken. I’m so lonely and sad and lost that I can’t even pick myself up off the floor and put the pieces back together long enough to be angry.”
I can’t see clearly through my waterfall of grief. Brewer hands me a box of tissues, and I blow my nose. “I miss her so much—her stupid movie quotes, the smell of her cookin’, the sound of her slippers shufflin’ as she moves around the house, tidying up. I thought, you know because I can’t jump no more, that she would see me as a failure.” I swallow hard, my throat feeling dry and sore. “Like I didn’t amount to nothin’, but when I realized I could fly and started workin’ toward my pilot’s license, I dreamed of taking her up in the air someday and showin’ her the world from the angle I love best, above the clouds. I thought maybe she could see what I see when I jump, she could feel that rush, and maybe finally understand why I love it so much. I thought she’d be proud of me and how I amounted to somethin’. I’m never gonna get to show her that now.” My sobbing and sniffling are out of control as I go through tissue after tissue, making a dirty pile of them in my lap.
He props one leg over his knee, resting his hands together. Brewer always looks relaxed, like he’s never in any rush. He makes you feel as if you’re the most important thing he has going on. I guess it’s a good quality in a therapist.
“Do you really believe that?”