Halos and Heroes Ch. 06

A word to the wise ain't necessary. It's the stupid ones that need the advice.

—Bill Cosby

A hot breath rushed past my ear, warning me I wasn't alone even before soft lips trailed down the side of my neck and raised goose bumps along my bare arm. I was lying on my left side, back to the other man in my bed. My immediate assumption that it was Max was corrected by the long fingers that drew up over my hip. Even in the dark, they were more tanned than my desert darkened skin, giving strong contrast when they laced through my own.

Devlin.

I tensed at once, knowing it was a dream. Devlin was dead, but that didn't affect his persistence. His arms tightened around me, keeping me close when I tried to roll away. Over and over again his lips silently caressed my cheek, my jaw and the side of my throat, asking for forgiveness and permission until my body relented under the gentle assault. In a dream there were no promises, no hearts to be broken, so I let my inhibitions slip. Indulging in an erotic fantasy about a dead, cheating ex, beat the ones of watching his face explode any night of the week.

I tried to turn my head to encourage Devlin's mouth to work its way up to mine, but he stopped me by sinking the sharp edge of his teeth into the lobe of my ear. The small pain blossomed into pleasure when his tongue curled over the injured spot. One of his legs crept over mine, and a heavy arm trapped me as it slid over my chest, his broad hand resting lightly on my ribs. Devlin's breathing slowed against the back of my neck as he made every caress count.

"Close your eyes," he murmured against my ear, his voice smoked with arousal so deep it was almost unrecognizable. "And don't open them until I say so."

It was tempting to disobey him just to see what he'd do. Devlin had always tried to dominate me in bed, and I usually egged him on. Tonight, his entire approach was gentler than normal, and although I was curious about the change in his modus operandi, I let it go since his hands on my skin were a more interesting focal point right now.

My body mourned the loss of his heat when Devlin moved along the length of the bed, dropping rows of kisses down my belly. He stopped at my thighs, sliding his hands under my knees so he could pull my legs wider apart. I resisted for a moment, embarrassment warring with arousal. We didn't do this often; this slow exploration of hands and mouths. Part of it was time constraints, but past that, getting too close meant the fall would be harder when it came. War zones weren't a good place to cement happily ever afters.

Devlin was different in this dream. He trailed a slow slew of kisses along my hip like he had all the time in the world without worry about tomorrow intruding. It made my stupid throat tighten. Each caress from his questing mouth and fingers asked me for a little less resistance, and a little more trust on my part.

I wanted to give him what he wanted. But what he'd done to me, and what I'd done in retaliation lay between us. I wasn't confident we could cross the bridge I'd napalmed when I'd left him and Connor behind, but tonight's Devlin was patient. Wordless apologies were pressed into my skin as his hands glided over my body.

Hard hands and soft kisses were an incredible contradiction on their own, but with my eyes closed, every sensation Devlin fed me was heightened. Never touching my cock, he nonetheless made it very much a part of the equation each time his lips trailed down the inside of my thigh.

When he finally cupped my balls and gave them a light squeeze, I moaned. His smile teased my skin as I tried to encourage him back up to my mouth with impatient hands, only to have them pinned to either side of my hips hard. I protested, but Devlin refused to be rushed. Nibbling, taking his time, he worked his mouth down until the heat of his breath made my back arch in that direction.

"Devlin," I groaned, drawing his name out into a multisyllable purr. He showed his approval by licking my cock before swirling his tongue around the head like it was an ice cream cone. My teeth sank into my lower lip, less gentle than Devlin's had been as my hips undulated to meet every downward stroke of his mouth.

"Come on, man. Let go so I can return the favor."

He ignored me and sucked my entire length down till it hit the back of his own. He hummed under his breath, and my body went up in flames. For the first time tonight I was glad that my eyes were closed, because the firework display behind my eyelids was amazing.

"Just like that. I fucking love your mouth."

I wanted more. Needed it like a drug. We'd fucked dozens of times before, more enthusiastically than this, but not one of those encounters measured up to the intimate intensity we were building now.

Devlin didn't answer me. Instead he slid slick fingers through the crease between my cheeks. Somewhere around the time he'd been driving me out of my mind, his fingers had made the acquaintance of the lube. They forged a new friendship with my ass now. Devlin teased me higher, circling my entrance with a slow, wide arc until that intimate puckered skin gave beneath his touch. He was going to kill me at this rate, leaving nothing behind but ash when I burnt up for him.

My wrists flexed in his as I tried to move my hands without success. "Dev, please."

The familiar nickname curved his smile against my hip. I never begged. When we were together I made damn sure that he was the one who lost himself first, even if I gave him a false impression of control. I begged now though, swearing at him between endearments and promises. I wanted him in me. Soon. Now.

I got my wish when two fingers slid fully into my ass, twisting as he worked me open. It wasn't long before I writhed on the bed, damn near speaking in tongues as I fucked myself on his hand to try and push myself over the edge.

Devlin had other ideas.

When his grip on my wrists lifted, I was free to wind my arms around the strong column of his neck as he slithered up my body. We were pressed together so tight that when I exhaled, I could barely get a full rise to my chest where his crushed it.

As much as I wanted it, my body made one last stand at keeping him out when he probed. It gave up the good fight after a hard push that plunged Devlin into the depths of my core. He murmured encouragement I barely heard through the pounding pulse in my ears, and my own moans. I clenched hard when he bore down, giving me every inch.

"Harder."

I felt the tension rippling up Devlin's body where it connected to mine, satisfaction hitting me hard as I realized he wasn't as cool as he played it. I wanted to strip away the last bits of his control. Needed it as much as I needed to feel him stretching me apart.

"Please."

I was past having pride about begging. I just needed him to take us both home. Devlin's hands tightened on my hips hard enough to bruise before he traveled them higher to cover my own. Our fingers intertwined over my head in the sheets. I didn't fight him, just held on.

"Open your eyes, Sam."

I did, startled when I saw Benjamin Santiago smiling down at me.

Ben's mouth caught my confusion, swallowing it down as he finally began to move. He drove in hard, giving me everything I'd asked for and more. Damp with a faint sheen of sweat, his skin slid over mine, the friction warming every place we touched.

Each time I tried to speak, he smothered my words with hot, drugging kisses. There was no reason to protest anyway. I wanted him. When I'd thought it was Devlin, I felt like I'd die if he didn't touch me. Knowing it was Ben, even in a dream, made me sure I would.

My back arched when he rocked forward. The pace was too slow to make me come, but the deliberate intensity behind every stroke took my breath away.

Ben's focus was on my pleasure, but I could feel the way his body tightened against mine when I squeezed him tight from within. The sound of our bodies meeting filled the room, a driving beat underscored by Ben's constant erotic encouragement, and the creak of the bed frame.

A bead of sweat dropped from his forehead and dampened the skin between my shoulder blades. Leaning down, Ben licked it away, then led the trail right back to my mouth. He kissed me like I was oxygen he needed to breathe.

Being wanted like that, needed so much, put me over the edge.

My orgasm was hard enough to steal the last breaths Ben wasn't already claiming as his. I felt the hard exhale of his moan against my mouth just before his body tensed.

The world bled away, leaving me floating and aware only of the man who said my name like it was a benediction...

* * *

My hoarse shout lingered in my ears when I sat up, slick heat coating my belly and the sheets around me. For the first time in a long time, my waking in the middle of the night wasn't fueled by terror, and the shouted name on my lips wasn't Max's or Devlin's.

Exhaling hard, I rolled out of bed and padded into the bathroom to splash water on my face. My eyes in the mirror looked unfocused from the pleasure that'd left my body vibrating like I'd been shot with a thousand volts of electricity. Instead of going down, my cock was still rock hard, ready for round two. I could feel Ben's strong hands on my skin like he was in the room with me. I'd had wet dreams before, but few of them had been so realistic. Missing a man I barely knew was ridiculous, but it didn't make it any less true.

Shutting off the bathroom lights, I went back into the dark bedroom to pull on a pair of fresh sweats. The breeze off the balcony connected to my bedroom kissed my skin as I opened the French doors. Gleaming bright white under the moonlight, the curtains provided a start and return point for me as I made my way back into the room to grab my cell phone and the box of cigarettes I'd found tucked into the lining of my bag earlier—a small gift from Max. Apparently developing lung cancer was better than drinking myself stupid.

I closed the doors behind me to block the smoke as I settled into one of the wrought-iron bistro chairs outside. My lighter and the cigarette pack were left on the table after I tapped one out and lit up. Sofia would castrate me if she found out I was smoking near the house, but I was wired enough to set the worry of discovery on the back burner. One hard inhale drew the smoke deep into my lungs, and that first hit of nicotine was the best homecoming I'd had yet.

My eyes closed as I leaned back in the chair. Beneath the cigarette smoke, I could smell the salt and sand that defined all beach towns. It was a fragrance familiar to me even after so many years abroad in a world of sand and exotic spices. Alternating between drags of my cigarette and breathing in the scent of the sea, I slowly let the warm smell of Ben's skin and breath fade from my memory.

As a kid, the ocean had been a sanctuary for Connor and me. Our mom had taught us to swim almost as soon as we could walk. On the best days, when Dad didn't try and lose himself in the bottom of a bottle, we'd spent time together on the family boat; a loose definition for a bunch of rickety wood and scrap metal, fishing and singing along with his old boom box. Those memories were mostly happy; sunny days, bright blue water, and my mother's laughter.

If I closed my eyes, I could still see her face; beautiful and unmarred, backlit by the sun that brought out the same gold in her hair that it did mine. Those days became scarce after she died, and whenever it was safer to face the wrath of Mother Nature than that of our father, Connor and I would ride our bikes down to the water's edge.

I opened my eyes before I could stir my past up. Instead I looked at my cell phone resting on the center of the small bistro table. When I'd brought it out here with me, my objective had been to call Max. Instead I scanned through my newly programmed contacts until I found Ben's name.

From the frying pan into the fire.

It hadn't been my intention to keep his number, but the stealth tactics of my subconscious didn't seem to limit themselves to dreams. Like my whiskey flask, having Ben's number close made me feel better even if I didn't use it. The problem was that right now, I wanted to. Every second I didn't put the phone down increased the temptation to dial. He'd said I could call him anytime, but I doubted that he actually expected me to take him up on the offer.

The little devil on my left shoulder dropkicked the nagging Puritan on my right, pointing out that, in a way, Ben had interrupted my night first by infiltrating my sleep.

My flask was empty, so I couldn't even hide behind the excuse of a drunk dial. But I pushed send before I could chicken out. I wasn't even sure what I was going to say when he picked up. Couldn't quite take the "Hey, I just soaked my shorts dreaming about you" approach. With the ringing echoing in my ear, I settled back in my chair and focused on the glow of the stars. On the fourth ring, Ben's light accent wafted over the line. Startled, I stuttered and started babbling before I realized that his voice was too carefully monotone. The loud beep of his voicemail picking up in my ear gave me a millisecond to come up with perfection.

"Hey, Ben, it's Sam. Sorry to wake you. You said to call anytime, so this is me calling." Pause. "You don't have to call back."

After ending the call I sat back and waited. Two hours later, when my phone's screen remained dark, and the entire pack of cigarettes was depleted, I rolled to my feet and forced myself back into bed. All the while trying not to linger on the fact I'd had a harder time powering down my cell this time than when I'd known Max would call.