Page 35 of Proof Of Life

Jesus Christ, it could be anything. A small thrill shoots through me, wondering what I’m about to discover about him when I was sure I knew everything. “Of course.”

“I’m excited about checking out that organization with you.”

“BALLS? You’re excited about BALLS? That’s definitely something I didn’t know about you.”

He tucks his face into my chest and buries a chuckle. “It really is the stupidest fucking name. But I’m excited. The improved chair and the blade leg means we’re not limited to the indoors any longer. We can get out of here and go hike your land like we used to. We can do more stuff.”

His words carry the weight of expectation, and it’s a weight I don’t want to shoulder. I’ve had to work my ass off in order to walk on my basic prosthetic, just learning to take the smallest, easiest steps. What is Riggs going to require of me in order to use the blade? To run? To be athletic and physical? I don’t even know how to relate myself to that kind of man any longer.

“We’ll see. Don’t get your hopes up.”

“Does that mean you’re not even going to try?” He sounds disappointed in me already.

“That’s not what I said. I’m just saying that I don't do well under pressure lately, and the picture you're painting feels like a lot of pressure.”

“I’m sorry, you’re right. I just thought maybe you could feel some of my excitement and it could motivate you. I’ll back off.”

Great, now we both feel like shit. “I don’t want you to back off. I mean, I do, but you shouldn’t,” I explain with a half-grin. “I just can’t handle disappointing you. Clearly, I’m holding you back from living your life. I don’t want to hold you back. You deserve…everything. I can’t give you anything.”

Brandt sits up and throws the covers back, and I feel mildly suspicious of the twinkle in his eyes, full of mischief. He takes my stump in his hands and lifts it, pushing my sweatpants up my thigh, and faintly brushes his fingertips over the bundle of scar tissue at the tip. Slowly, his head descends as he maintains eye contact with me, and he presses a soft kiss to my ruined skin. And then, with a wicked grin, his tongue snakes out, and he licks it.

With my left foot, I shove him back, and I grab my thigh from his grasp. My face twists with revulsion, and I’m absolutely disgusted by his actions.

Brandt plants his hands into the mattress on either side of my waist and raises up over me as he stares into my eyes.

“Don’t give me that face. There’s nothing gross about it. That’s the leg that supported me when you carried me back to base after I fractured mine. It’s the leg you kicked me with when I stole your last cigarette back in basic. You left a nasty bruise on my hip for almost a week, and it hurt like a bitch.” With the way he's laying over my body, I can feel his thighs press against mine, and I can feel the warm hard length of him slide against my soft groin. Even through the thin cotton of our sweats, it’s unmistakable. “This is the same leg I shaved when you lost that bet over Donna McPherson.”

His eyes drop to my throat, watching it slide as I swallow hard, and after a tense moment, he backs off and sits up, touching my thigh again. In fact, he’s touching both my thighs, like he’s comparing them. “At least, I think it was this leg. I don’t know, it might’ve been the other one. Fuck it, it doesn’t matter because it’s all a part of you. It’s all the same.” He finds my eyes again and holds my gaze, smiling like a fool. “Your body is beautiful. You’re a soldier. A warrior. You use your body as a weapon and a shield to defend your country and your brothers and sisters.”

Brandt tugs my pants down my hips and bends down over my thigh, bringing his face and his mouth just inches from my crotch, and I don’t know if he’s going to suck my dick or press a kiss to my skin, but I can’t look away. My heart jumps in my chest and I can’t stop swallowing. I’m not even ashamed that my dick is growing hard because of my excitement, and I realize I would let him do either one to me. It’s a revelation, but not sobering enough to pull me from the moment.

His tongue slips from between his lips to drag along my exposed skin as he blazes a wet trail from the tip of my shortened limb, to the crease of my groin. This time, when he looks up at me, there’s fire in his eyes instead of mischief.

“There’s no part of you I wouldn’t lick.”

Oh shit! As that settles in, he misses the range of emotions dancing across my face as he presses a kiss to my stomach and dips his tongue into my belly button, causing my muscles to spasm. I clutch his head, but don’t make a move to push him away. Instead, I grasp onto him, pushing my fingers into his dark silken hair, and hold myself still, like an invitation, waiting to see what he’ll do next.

His deep blue eyes lock with mine as he moves up my chest, daring me to make him stop, and I watch with wide eyes as his tongue flicks my nipple. He’s no longer playing with me; this isn't our usual game of dare. This is the real thing, or at least, it’s about to be. He wraps his lips around my nipple and sucks hard, and I feel it tug in my balls and gasp. He’s watching me now, watching my reaction, and it’s spurring him on.

“I want to make you feel good. Will you let me?”

The sexy, manipulative way he asks, like he’s begging, but at the same time dominant, has me willing to say yes to anything and everything.

“You are,” I reassure him, afraid to ask for more.

“Just trust me,” he promises as his lips map the colorful skin down my stomach, over the linked W and B tattoo I got branded with right after Boot Camp. He stops to nip it with his teeth before pressing a kiss to it.

As if afraid to move too fast, he makes his way slowly down the dark trail of hair that leads to my hard cock, and buries his nose in the nest of short curls that surround the base. Every neuron in my body is firing at once, and I feel juiced up and invincible, a lot like I used to feel before a mission. It’s a head rush to feel that level of adrenaline again, knowing it’s not from the heat of battle or the danger of risk, but from my best friend's touch.

From imagining what he’s about to do to me.

Again, he checks with me to see if I’m going to resist, but my mind is stuck on stupid, and all I can do is watch. He’s taking his cues from me, and I’m not going to stop him. Brandt grasps the base of my cock and brings it to his lips. The sight alone is enough to push me over the edge. It’s his face, the same face I’ve known for a decade, but with my cock touching his lips. It’s fucking blowing my mind.

“Relax, Professor,” he says with a wink just before his tongue delves into my slit to catch a taste of my seed, and my balls draw up tight with need.

He's going to do it. Brandt Aguilar is going to suck my cock, and I know without a doubt it’s going to be the hottest experience of my life. It already is.

His warm lips close around the spongy head of my engorged cock and his mouth pulls on it, drawing out more precum before enveloping the entire crown. The wet heat of his mouth is pure nirvana. As he slides down my shaft, I have to will myself not to come. There’s no fucking way I’m going to end this prematurely.

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