Finally, he bottomed out, and we both stilled for a moment. He was right. This was goddamn perfect. And we might not be dying the next morning—okay, we categorically would not—but that didn’t mean I wasn’t experiencing the best fuck of my entire life.
I lifted myself up on my hands and turned my head around. “Kiss me?” I whispered without giving myself time to think about it.
“Always.” Riggs wrapped one arm under my shoulders, planted the other on the bed by my hip, and leaned over to give me another hot, wet, drugging kiss. The motion pushed him deeper inside me, and we both groaned into the kiss. “Carter, I’ve got to—”
“Move,” I commanded at the same time. I reached up and anchored a hand in his hair again, which was apparently my new favorite thing.
And then he did move, and I was reduced to communicating in grunts and keening wails, not even caring if Buck or the guards or Gustavo Santiago himself could hear us, because the way Riggs fucked was as single-minded and sexily competent as the way he did most things. The way he moved inside me made me feel like I was floating, while the sensation of his hard, warm chest rubbing against my back made me feel protected and secure and grounded. And I was a goner.
“Touch yourself,” he growled in my ear. “Want you to come for me, Carter.”
Pfft. Like that was a thing he could control with words. Like that was a thing people did on command. I really needed to explain the physiological process of orgasming to him, which had several distinct phases that—
“Come for me,” he growled again, “and when you do, I’m going to pull out and come all over your ass. All over the handprint I left there.”
“Ah, fuck,” I groaned, moving my hand down to jerk myself. It took literally three tugs before I was shouting his name, coming all over the sheets.
The next second, Riggs pulled out of me, and I craned my head to watch him jerk his gorgeous cock and come all over me, exactly as promised.
He let out a gasp, then collapsed beside me on the bed. Without a word, he pulled me against him, away from the wet spot, so my sweaty chest lay against his. Then he dragged his fingers through his cum and painted it over the skin of my ass.
I felt like that should have felt weird.
Inappropriate or cavemanish or… I dunno. Unhygienic, at the very least. But as I lay there wrapped in his arms, both of us panting in the stillness, all I felt was relaxed, and nourished, and safe…
And entirely unafraid.
15
Riggs
After Carter fell asleep, I gently extracted myself from around his body and slid out of bed. As much as I wanted to stay wrapped up in him and relive the incredible lovemaking we’d shared—to hold him while we watched the sunrise, to wake him with my mouth on his cock, to say all the sweet, sappy shit I’d never even considered saying to another lover—I needed to get him the fuck out of Santiago’s manse before the man returned. Our time was running out, and I needed to know if Hux and Champ were any closer to an extraction plan. Once Carter was safe, we’d have time to explore the feelings that had been building between us—feelings I couldn’t and didn’t want to ignore any longer.
I listened at the door to the hallway and didn’t hear a sound, but after carefully trying the knob, I confirmed it was still locked from the outside. I made my way back over to the sofa and grabbed the Horn from where I’d dropped it earlier.
KevsCuz: Hux, you there?
HogMasterHux: Yep. In flight on way to Socopó. Sitrep?
KevsCuz: No change. No eyes on magic seed man for six hours. As far as I know, Santiago hasn’t returned. When he does, shit will go south quickly.
HogMasterHux: We think we have a general idea where you might be. Champ is working on satellite images to pinpoint possible locations. Can you get out of compound and hide nearby?
KevsCuz: Hang tight. Lemme see.
I walked back over to the window and inspected the metal scrollwork that acted as prison bars. After checking the one in the main room, I checked the bedroom we’d never used and then checked the one where Carter still lay sleeping. None of them were even remotely loose, but I did reach out and feel the place where a drill bit or screwdriver would go to remove them.
Did we have anything that could work? I moved over to the medical backpack and dumped it out, searching for anything that could be used as a screwdriver, but there wasn’t much. Bandages and monitors. Medical devices and suture kits. Burn ointments and carefully labeled packets of medication. And the tin of antibiotic salve—the stupid salve Carter had given me that last night back in Gelada, the first time he said he trusted me. I’d assumed I’d lost it along with my gun, my clothes, and everything else I’d brought to Venezuela, but of all my belongings, this one thing had made it. I squeezed it in my palm.