WILLA

I am having the best damn dream. I'm in a pizza parlor, shoving a big slice of sloppy pizza into a tub of ranch and then eating the white-coated tip. There's Dr. Pepper in my frosty mug, and country music plays on a jukebox in the corner. Across from me, Gren sits, scarfing down his own pizza and giving me heated looks from his side of the booth. My pussy aches just looking at him, because he's so big and sexy. The waitress comes over and hits on him—because who wouldn't?—but he pushes her away and reaches for my hand. I squeeze my thighs tight, and then he's on my side of the booth, his hand slipping between my thighs. "Willa," he murmurs. "Come."

"Oh boy, do I ever want to come." I rub up against his hand, and the jukebox goes silent, just as a marching band starts to pour in through the pizza palace's doors. The drummer sets down his kit and starts to beat in his drum right in front of our table, but I don't care, because Gren locks one arm around my shoulders, hugging me close even as his hand plays between my thighs. The drumming gets louder and louder, and I decide I'm going to tell them to fuck off…

Just as soon as Gren pulls his hand away.

"Come," he tells me again in that gruff voice of his, and I do. I come, my pussy squeezing hard over nothing at all, just the thought of him touching me again. He growls low with pleasure, and then just keeps growling—

I wake up, gasping, as the sound of his growling continues. I sit up, dizzy and disoriented. My hair is a tangled mop in my damn face, and I push it out of my eyes, squinting at the two figures by the fire.

Ashtar faces Gren, both men stiff with anger, and it looks as if a fight is about to break out.

"Is everything okay?" I ask, hesitant.

Gren's bristling stance shifts. He swiftly moves to my side, crouches low in front of me, and puts a hand behind him, as if shielding me from the other man. His growling continues, and I can't tell if he's saying something or issuing a warning. I put a hand on his lower back, reassuring him.

"I need water and food for Veronica," Ashtar says, his voice flat with cocky disapproval. "That one is very territorial. I would hate to destroy him with my claws, but if he blocks me from feeding my mate, I will do so."

I shake the last of the fuzziness from my head, pulling the blankets to my naked body and tugging on Gren's arm. "No one's going to destroy anyone. He's just being protective."

"As am I." Ashtar crosses his arms over his chest, and for the first time, I notice he's buck naked. Then again, so is Gren. I can't take my eyes off him, though, whereas Ashtar, I could care less about.

"Well, let me get you some food and water. Gren will calm down once he realizes that's all you want." I tug on Gren's arm again. "Gren, sugar, he needs to use this cave, too."

"Blessurhart," he manages around his fangs, and it turns into a hiss.

I will not laugh. I will not laugh. Instead, I just tuck the blankets around my body like a dress—since he tore apart my tunic—and get to my feet. Gren makes a displeased sound, but I lean over to give him a kiss of greeting on the cheek. "Food for friends." I say, and can't resist running my knuckles lightly along his fuzzy jaw. "Friends."

The drumming in my dream returns, and I realize it's coming from his chest. It sounds louder than ever—and mine is almost as loud, to boot. "Friends," he grits out, as if the word offends him. When I move forward, he remains at my side, his hand on my arm—not stopping me, just touching me, as if he needs to use me to keep himself sane.

"See? All better," I reassure Ashtar. One of the baskets of trail mix looks like it's been eaten down to the scraps, but there's a fresh one behind it in the corner, and I offer it to him. "Do you need the fire for melting some water? I guess we're hogging it."

The golden guy snorts, all arrogance. "Of course not."

"Sorry I asked," I murmur.

Ashtar tucks the basket under his arm, gives Gren a dismissive look, and then growls something that makes Gren jump to his feet. My guy snarls something back, and then Ashtar just laughs, saying more of the snarling words that sound ridiculous coming from his too-human mouth.

Gren doesn’t look pleased. He steps in front of me again, and his cootie is thrumming up a storm.

“What is it?” I ask, surprised. “What are you two saying? You can speak his language?”

Ashtar gives me another arrogant look. “Of course. I have a translator. Praxiian’s not common on this end of the galaxy, but I have run in their circles before. They do love their gladiators.”

The word—Praxiian—sounds like it’s half choked in his throat. “Is that his language? What did you say to him?”

Ashtar smirks. “I told him I am tired of listening to him covering you.”

I gasp. “That is extremely rude, sir.”

He shrugs. “Veronica may be able to sleep through it all, but I cannot.”

“You’re welcome to leave any time you like,” I tell the big golden man stiffly. “Go join the others by the fire at the base of the cliff.”

“And leave my mate up here alone?” He shakes his head. “Just pretend we are not here, human. So far you two have been good at that.”

I blush, because he’s not wrong. Ashtar was the least of my worries last night as we, ahem, slept together several times. I rub my face again, trying to compose myself. Sharing a cave with such close quarters—in such a sensitive timeframe—isn’t my favorite, but we owe Veronica and Ashtar. It’s just bad timing.

Actually, I don’t even mind the timing. I just mind him reminding us that he’s there.

Gren spits a few growled words after Ashtar, who just laughs, retreating to the far end of the cave and disappearing into the shadows again. Then, he looks at me, his eyes still narrowed. He pulls me against him, his big arms going around my body, and he nuzzles at my throat.

My cootie goes wild. So does my pussy. Heat floods between my legs and I moan, shocked at how strong the sensation is. I thought resonance faded? Right now it feels even stronger than before. “Whoa,” I tell him, even as he licks at the cords of my neck and makes my body pulse with need. “I need to eat before we start again. Food, Gren.”

“Food,” he admits grudgingly, and then murmurs, “Gren food Willa.” And then he licks my throat.

I hope that means he’s telling me he likes my taste. I caress his bushy jaw, plant a kiss on that mouth of his, and then go digging in the food supplies.

There are plenty of roots and herbs, and they all smell great and would probably make a fantastic stew, but that would take time. I’m not interested in a slow-simmered meal. I’m interested in crawling back under the furs with Gren, because the need for him feels overwhelming. “Hope you’re ready for round two, Ashtar,” I murmur under my breath. “Because your ears are about to be destroyed.”

I manage a few handfuls of the meaty trail-mix, and Gren eats twice as much as I do. It occurs to me we’re plowing through the supplies in this cave at a rapid pace, but Gren still needs to heal, and well, I need to rub on Gren. My cootie’s singing so loud that my entire chest feels as if it’s vibrating, and it makes it hard to concentrate on anything except reaching over and touching my man.

I eat, messily. I choke down some water, too, because I’m feeling pretty dehydrated after last night’s intense cardio. My cheeks get hot at the thought, and I notice Gren’s drinking a fair amount of water, too, his gaze locked on me. We’re probably thinking the same thing, and that makes me get all hot and bothered. Shoot, right now, everything gets me hot and bothered. It’s like I could think about the unsexiest things ever—like, say, cooties, and survivalism—and I’d get wet between the thighs because I’d think about Gren.

After food is done, I wash my hands, take a few more swigs of water, and then consider our sleeping arrangements. We’re right by the fire, which means we’re practically shining a spotlight on our nocturnal activities. With that in mind, I eye the supplies stacked against the wall, then begin to drag some of the largest baskets over to the far side of our bedding. Gren watches me, puzzled, but when I finish the first basket and grab another, he pushes my hands aside and does it for me. After that, I point at objects and he moves them, until we have a little fort to give us a bit of privacy while we lie down.

And I do want Gren to lie down. I’m not entirely convinced he’s at a hundred percent. It seems too soon, and he was far too close to death. He didn’t get much rest last night, either. Not like I did. I have vague memories of him cleaning me between my thighs, and I guess I was too tired or crashed out to be shy. I’m shy now, though. I wonder if he realizes I was a virgin? There wasn’t time to discuss it, and things didn’t hurt like I thought they would. There were a few uncomfortable moments, but nothing worth screaming over.

I loved all of it, even the fumbling.

As if my cootie has decided to broadcast to the world that I’m still thinking about sex, it begins to hum even louder, and I feel the singing vibration all the way down to my thighs. Gren’s gaze grows heated as he watches me, and I blush. “I guess there’s no hiding what I’m thinking.”

He touches his chest and says something, then reaches out to point at mine, a question in his eyes.

No one ever told him about resonance, did they? He has no idea what’s going on, and I want to shake every single well-meaning person in that blue-skinned tribe for being so woefully clueless.

“It’s normal,” I tell him, keeping my expression encouraging. “Actually, it’s not all that normal. It’s something special for you and me.” My voice drops and I scoot a little closer to him on the blankets. “Willa and Gren.”

“Willa and Gren,” he echoes, and then reaches out and caresses my jaw, his gaze devouring me.

I shiver at that delicate touch, unable to take my eyes off of him. I love how he is so massive, so strong and dangerous, but he’s never been anything but gentle to me. “I love you,” I whisper to him. “I don’t know how we managed to find each other in all this mess, but I’m glad we did.”

“Willa,” he murmurs, and traces his claw down the column of my neck. I shiver again, and it occurs to me that I’m naked under this blanket because he ripped all of my clothing. I don’t mind, though, because his claw keeps traveling lower, until it hits the edge of the fur blanket that I’m clutching to my breasts. He looks up at me, heat in his eyes, and then pulls it away, tossing it aside.

I’m suddenly glad for the basket fort. Every freckle on my skin seems to glow in the firelight, and my body prickles in response, goosebumps rising on my arms. I don’t know what to do with myself—cover my boobs? Cross my legs? Preen and show off for him? This is all still new to me, though, so I do what feels natural…I reach for him.

He snags my hand before I can touch him, and pulls my palm to his mouth, then gently rubs his mouth against it. His teeth brush against my skin, but it’s still the tenderest of gestures and I love it. He licks my palm, making me squirm, and then pulls me into his arms. My breasts brush against his chest fur and I bite back a moan.

Gren watches my face intently, and then leans in and nuzzles at the side of my neck. More goosebumps skitter up and down my arms, and my breasts tighten in response. I’m panting as he licks at my neck, teasing my tender skin. It’s like I feel every brush of his tongue deep between my thighs, and I’m clenching reflexively every time he touches me.

“Gren,” I moan when he caresses my throat, and then his hand skims lower, to my breast.

I know I should be quieter, considering we're not in the cave alone, but when he cups my breast, I can't help myself. I whimper, pushing against his big hand. His touch feels so good that it makes me forget everything but the heat of his big body next to mine and the endless humming of our cooties. I'm half-straddling him in the furs, my thighs slung over his lap as he caresses my breast, and I can feel the enormous, hard heat of his cock pushing against the side of my leg. Where he was ravenous last night, it seems that today he's slowing things down, taking a more thoughtful approach. The expression on his face is that of utter concentration as he touches my breast, and it's like he's focused all that he is into learning my body.

That thought makes me so aroused that I can hardly stand it.

"Oh," I breathe when he looks up at me and grazes my nipple with his thumb. His gaze locks onto mine, and as he begins to toy with it, he leans in and nips at my lower lip in one of our playful almost-kisses. It sends a pulse of need straight through me and I forget all about being quiet. I moan against him, welcoming his tongue as it slicks into my mouth, even as he teases my breast into an aching point.

He murmurs something low under his breath, and then inhales deeply, closing his eyes. I wonder what it is he smells. He breaks our wild kiss, rubs his nose against mine, and then lowers me gently onto the furs.

Oh. I can't help but tremble with anticipation, lying back and watching him as he looms over me like some sort of dark god. He's gorgeous. I don't care that his face isn't entirely human or his teeth are strange. His eyes are shining with intelligence and pleasure, and he's my Gren. I love his big, furry body and his strong shoulders and careful, oversized hands. I love all of him. "You're perfect to me," I whisper as he regards my body, watching me reverently as if I'm some work of art spread underneath his hands.

He caresses my breast again, and when I arch and reach for him, he lowers his head and hesitantly flicks his tongue against my freckled skin, then glances up to see my reaction.

Ooooh. Is it possible for me to get more aroused than I already am? I arch up against the blankets, nodding at him. "Yes, that's good. You can do that. Actually, please, please do that." I decide to avoid being delicate and show him how much I want that. I tangle my fingers in his thick, black mane, and drag his head down to my breast to indicate just how badly I want more.

The rumble of his laughter sends even more pleasure through me, and I'm smiling myself. Then, he leans down and rubs his face in the valley of my breasts, and I forget all about laughing. I moan again, clinging to him, because he feels so strange and yet so damn good. He nuzzles his way across the mound of one breast and then grazes over my nipple.

I nearly come out of my skin, crying out. My fingers tighten in his hair and I'm panting again. "Yes. More."

His growl takes on a sexy, feral edge and then he runs his tongue along my nipple, circling it before latching on and tugging with lips and mouth. I cry out all over again, lost in sensation. Is it possible to feel this much pleasure just from a touch? God, I love it.

Over and over, he teases my breast, alternating between little nips of skin and rubbing his mouth against me, then more licking and sucking. I can't predict what he's going to do, and it makes me crazy. I'm barely conscious of how loud I'm panting, or how much I'm pleading his name, my heels digging into the furs as I writhe underneath him. All I know is that this is the best, most delicious torture and I both want it to end and I want it to go on forever.

"Gren," I moan. "Gren. Gren. Gren."

He hisses as he lifts my head, but I don't panic. His hisses are just another way he communicates, and I know they don't mean he's angry. I reach for him, wanting to touch him like he touches me. My hands move from his hair down to his shoulders, and then I try to find his nipples in his dense chest hair.

Gren catches my hands and sits up, pulling them to his mouth and pressing a kiss to my grabby palms before pushing them back down to the blanket and over my head. His response is clear—no touching, not right now. I remember how many times it took for him to gain even a smidgen of control last night and nod, breathless. Part of me wants to see him lose control, but a greedy, needy part of me wants to see where he's going with this. So I obediently cross my wrists over my head and gaze down at him, nodding.

He groans, his big hands sliding to both of my breasts, and he plays with them, caressing both nipples until they're stiff peaks. Then, he tenderly leans in and licks the spot over my heart, where my cootie is singing the loudest. "Willa," he murmurs, and I don't know if that's the sweetest thing I've ever seen, but it might be up there.

Then, he moves lower, flicking his tongue down my belly, and I forget all about sweetness.

I make little needy cries as he goes down my torso at an excruciatingly slow pace. My entire body shivers with need, and I’m so damn wet and achy between my thighs that I feel as if I’ll splinter if he touches me there. But, oh god, I need him to touch me there. I need it so badly I could scream.

He pauses over my belly button and lifts his head. He stares down at it so hard, his dark brow furrowed, that it’s almost comical. It reminds me that he doesn’t have one, and I want to ask about it, but we still don’t have the words. Just like I don’t have the words for “Fuck me now” and “Go down on me” and “Hurry and put your mouth there.”

This language barrier is a real pain in my ass.

But then he flicks his tongue over it and is moving lower again, and I moan with anticipation. My thighs feel tight and yet my blood seems to be throbbing as if centered entirely in that region. As he migrates downward, I let my thighs slide apart, and the breath catches in my throat when he hooks one big hand around one leg and pushes it apart from the other. He moves lower, and as he does, he spreads my legs, his big hand on one knee, and then gazes at my soaked, needy pussy that’s bared before his hungry eyes.

He just stares at me for so long, inches away from my aching flesh, and doesn’t move. I start to worry that something’s wrong, that I look completely different from females of his kind, or maybe he doesn’t like what he’s seeing…all kinds of anxious thoughts start to pop up in my head. I watch him intently, holding my breath, and when Gren inhales, it’s no more than a delicate flare of his nostrils.

Then, he groans deep and plunges his mouth between my thighs.

I choke as he does, utterly startled, and then I’m gasping for air as he begins to ravenously work my pussy with his tongue. Did I think all the urgency worked its way out of him last night? Clearly I was wrong, because it’s back, and the new focus is between my thighs. Big teeth scrape delicately over my folds, framing the seeking, licking, teasing tongue that seems to be everywhere at once. Gren’s utterly careful with me, his mouth moving all over as if he can’t get enough of how wet I am. It’s like he wants to lick every fold of skin, delve into every crevice, and taste me all over. He’s forgotten how to take his time, too. There’s a hungry need moving through him as he devours my pussy, and the groans he’s making tell me that he finds the taste of it incredible.

And god, it feels good. I’m squirming under the ministrations of his mouth, and it takes everything I have to keep my hands pinned over my head and in place, just like he wanted them. His big hands are locked around my spread thighs, holding me against his mouth as he works me over, and I can’t seem to stop quivering. The sound of my cootie is like an impossibly loud drone in my ears, and I’m resonating so fiercely that it’s adding another layer of pleasure to what already exists. There’s a low, insistent vibration that adds to every touch and gives it a bit of added oomph.

It’s as if Gren remembers to pace himself. He slows down, drags his tongue over my slick flesh, murmuring my name, and gives me a sultry look as he glances up. “Willa.”

“I’m here,” I manage, though I feel like I’m falling apart, piece by piece.

He leans down and presses a hot, hungry kiss to my pussy, his gaze still locked on mine, and I swear I feel that in my soul. I shudder with the intensity of it. I don’t think I’ll be able to take much more.

Even as he watches me, I see his tongue flick out, and then it strokes ever so lightly over my clit.

Everything in me explodes. The cry I make reverberates through the cave, but I don’t care if Ashtar or everyone on the beach hears me. Nothing has ever felt so damn good.

I give one incoherent cry after another as he continues to work my clit, licking and sucking and dragging that amazing tongue over it. I'm so sensitized that even the slightest touch feels as if it's making me come, and as he works my pussy, it feels like I'm just climaxing over and over again in the world's longest orgasm. My pussy floods with wetness and he growls, pleased, lapping it up as if I've just rewarded him for his efforts.

When I can no longer stand my legs clenching with every stroke of his tongue and I'm so sensitive I feel as if I'll crawl out of my own skin if he touches my clit again, I pant his name and push his head away. He nips at the inside of my thigh and my muscles twitch in response. "Willa," he murmurs, and there's such a look of fierce possessiveness that my entire body prickles with heat at the sight. I love how he watches me, like I'm the best thing he's ever seen and he'll destroy anyone who dares to breathe my air.

"I'm here," I manage again, and then I cling to him as he moves over me, his big body pressing against mine. I love the tickle of his chest fur as his flesh rubs against mine, love the hard length of him as he thrusts into my aching heat. I grab two fistfuls of his fur and hold on as he begins to pound into me, all of his patience vanishing the moment he sinks into my body. I love the snarls he makes against my throat. I don't know if they're more of his strange language or just him losing control, but I love all of it, and I dig my heels into his backside as he thrusts wildly into me. He comes with a savage cry after a few moments, and another pleasurable quiver—like the world's most languid orgasm—adds to my already overloaded senses.

I lie under him on the ground, like a big dopey human-sized ball of mush, smiling up at the rocky ceiling.

If this is what resonance is, no wonder Harlow and Liz (and Veronica) seem so happy to be on this planet. I wrap my arms around Gren's sweaty neck, holding him close as he catches his breath. I'm happy to be here, too. It's different, it's cold, and it's not easy, but…I love being with Gren.

I feel like the luckiest woman alive right now.

"Willa," Gren murmurs, nuzzling at my neck, and I sigh happily.

Heck, I know I'm the luckiest woman alive.